Today was one of those days with a marginal weather forecast. Last night, the chance of rain was predicted at 70%, with references to showers and scattered strong storms. My brother and I conferred, and decided that unless the forecast improved dramatically overnight, we didn’t want to hunt in probable rain.
This morning, the forecast hadn’t changed. Conditions were absolutely gorgeous at 6 AM, but the forecast hadn’t changed, and the radar showed the stuff out there headed this way. So I went to work instead of taking a vacation day to get myself and my tack soaked.
Once I’ve made the decision not to hunt, it’s always a dilemma whether to hope it really does rain so I don’t feel bad about making the wrong decision, or whether to hope it clears up so that even if I’m not enjoying it, my friends can. I must be selfish; I felt gratified to look out my office window and see it raining on and off all afternoon.