cigars and single malt,” he said, still smiling, and showed only modest displeasure when reporting: “My host provided only blended Scotch.”
Knowing Peabody’s affection for imported cigars and aged single malt Scotch, the Missouri turkey hunt must have been a disaster. I wondered why he was in such good spirits. Then it came to me. “The Poker Gods smiled on you?” I asked. Peabody gave me a stern look supported by a pained expression. He answered my question with the statement: “I believe that’s my luggage coming down the chute.” I felt it prudent not to pursue the subject.
As we drove to his apartment, the Major avoided comment about the Missouri hunt. Still, his demeanor was that of a happy and satisfied man. Curiosity was killing me. After parking the car and bringing his baggage into his quarters, I could stand it no longer. “I’m sorry the turkey hunt was a disappointment.” I expected the Major would describe the hunt and the disappointment and, thus, satisfy my curiosity.
Peabody was sitting in his wing backed chair next to the fireplace. “Disappointment? Disappointment?” he said, as if the thought never occurred to him. “I was in no way disappointed.” He reached for the humidor containing his H. Upmann cigars. “I believe you’ll find some of the Macallan under the sink,” he said, casually. I took the hint and soon returned from the kitchen with a brace of Scotch and waters.
“Disappointment,” he began, “is a product of improper expectation. ‘Hope springs eternal from within the human breast’ and when it is not fulfilled, hope ends in disappointment. A realist limits his expectations. Therefore, he limits his potential for disappointment. Hunters sometimes miss.” He looked at the tip of his cigar, indicated satisfaction with the way it was burning and amended his statement.
“No. That’s not right. Hunters often miss. They very often miss. Down deep, they don’t really expect to hit what they shoot at. They are, thus, not disappointed when they miss, but they are elated when they happen to hit whatever they’re shooting at.
“Duck hunters have learned to expect the worst. Even though the TV weathercaster has confidently promised a Saskatchewan Screamer bringing cold Canadian air, blustery winds and, probably, driving huge flight of late Bluebill before it, duck hunters go forth in pre-dawn November mornings expecting a day of calm, warm, bluebird weather.
“Turkey hunters, on the other hand, are always ready to experience the cold and the rain that keep them inside the cabin and the turkeys hunkered down, unmoving in the thickest of cover.” (Now I know what happened in Missouri.) “Only the most naïve hunter expects a weatherman to tell the truth.
“Hunters know the elements and the fates conspire against him. The smarter ones avoid the disappointments by expecting their forays to end in disaster or, at best, discomfort. Thus insulated, misfortune brings no disappointment and their occasional successes bring them great satisfaction. That is the reason for the truism; ‘All hunting trips are good. Some are better than others’.
“This does not mean the hunting fraternity sails through life without problems. I have been visited by bitter disappointment more than once. I embarked upon the sea of matrimony, expecting a calm and serene voyage. Soon buffeted by blackened skies, gale force winds and steep, angry swells, I suffered violent mal de mer.
“You may not believe this, but in my youth I harbored the insane expectation that the printed word was accurate. The particular text I have in mind appears on page 163 of the 1966 edition of The New Hunter’s Encyclopedia. I still remember it: ‘Experts claim that a skunk can be captured without danger of ejection if the tail is grasped and held down, possibly on the theory that the animal will not foul its own tail.’ I vividly recall my extreme disappointment when I tested the theory.
“To avoid the destroyed hope which, surely, will result if you believe newspapers or any written publication, I suggest you begin by refusing to read the Congressional Record. Personally, I’m never surprised by those in political office. I expect so little of them there is no outrage they can commit that might cause me to be disappointed in them.
“But you, Counselor, live in a lawyer’s world. You are constantly involved in planning to bamboozle judges, mislead juries, outwit tax collectors, and starve widows and orphans through manipulation of Spendthrift Trust provisions. What great expectations all of you must have. But, in every case, one lawyer wins and one lawyer loses. That means half the lawyers must be terribly disappointed when justice triumphs.”
Peabody set his empty glass on the stand beside his chair and prepared to rise. “As I said, disappointment is the product of improper expectation. For example, during last night’s unfortunate experience at the poker table, I was sustained by the knowledge that you fully expected to invite me to dinner. It is an entirely proper expectation and I won’t disappoint you.”
We went to Major Peabody’s favorite restaurant.
Women’s Rights
Never let it be said Major Nathaniel lacks proper respect for the female of the species. He neither derides their abilities nor considers them to be inferior to the male animal in any way. Frankly, I believe he is just a bit afraid of them. (Personally, I think men have good reason to be afraid of women.) His attitude may have been formed by the experiences he amassed during his short term marriage.
The Major’s election never to re-marry supports my thesis. I believe he fears a wife might insist he become a better man and change what she would most probably consider to be his errant way of life It almost happened during his first venture into what turned out to be a very stormy relationship.
During the marriage, Peabody’s Lefever 20 ga. gathered dust and complained of disuse. The Major was forced to start a savings account. In spite of the fact of his careful cleaning of the necklace after he retrieved it, his then wife insisted he get rid of his dog just because it had eaten that favorite bit of her jewelry. After the divorce Peabody felt like a slave who had been liberated. Undoubtedly, his ex felt the same way.
This does not mean the Major dislikes women. On the contrary, he enjoys their presence, but he has adopted the classic position enunciated by William Claude Dunkenfield who claimed: “A woman is like an elephant. I like to look at them but I wouldn’t want to own one.”
Major Peabody believes in the equality of the sexes. He treats women in the same way he treats his male associates. This gets him into serious trouble with some members of the opposing sex, but others enjoy his fairness and his company. A case in point is the desirable and somewhat unattainable, lovely Stephanie.
The lovely Stephanie’s family and the Peabody family have been friends for generations and she and I have been affianced for over five years. She is intelligent, independent and very committed to the causes of Women’s Rights. It is her insistence on independence which has, I believe, delayed any formal ceremony legalizing our union. I’m sure she believes marriage amounts to some sort of surrender.
It was Major Peabody who was instrumental in first bringing us together. He had been invited to participate in a Western Hemisphere shotgunning expedition. It was to start with goose shooting in Greenland and then move south to Labrador for duck. The succeeding stops were: Upper Michigan for Ruffed Grouse, Iowa for pheasant, Mexico and Colombia for dove, Uruguay for Perdiz, Argentina for goose, and then back to Philadelphia for recuperation.
The mere thought of such an expedition was enough to cause Major Peabody to salivate. It was a once-in-a-lifetime hunt and he intended to participate. Of course, it was a very expensive undertaking. Of course, the Major had no backlog of funds available to support the costs of the five week project. When he asked for an advance from his Spendthrift Trust, of
