The new tree stand

My dude got a new tree stand. The booger of the deal is that it did not come assembled. The last hunting accessory he bought, a feeder, was also not assembled. The box said "Easy Assembly", which was a complete and total lie. So, when we pulled all of the pieces for the tree stand out of the box, I was not hopeful that this would be a quick job.

Here's our system:  I read the directions and get parts ready, he assembles.

The first few steps went fairly easily.

Heave, ho!

Start tightening the nuts!

Padding is necessary for tender behinds.

Got the ladder attached!

And this, my friends, is where the job got tricky. The instructions call for three people to upright and move the whole kit-n-caboodle. There were two of us and one of us was not in any condition to be lifting or moving anything heavy. Normally, I would charge full steam ahead and show off my she-muscles, but due to recent events, I'm doing none of the sort. Read instructions. Get parts ready. These are my jobs. Not uprighting tree stands. So, for the most part he uprighted the contraption himself, then walked it over to the tree. I cannot remember a time that made me so nervous. I was afraid that it would either fall apart or that he'd lose his leverage on it and the whole thing would fall down on top of him. He finally got it over to the tree and then we had to figure out how to secure it because the tree was not especially cooperative. Don't you hate trees with an attitude? At first, one of us was going to climb the tree and get behind the stand to secure it, but neither of us could get up high enough to get our foot into a notch. It was a tall tree. He got it wedged up against the tree and I held it steady and he climbed up the ladder while I yelled at him what a bad idea it was and that I didn't want to be a widow today. My concerns fell on deaf ears, or prideful male ears, I'm not sure which. He shimmied up the ladder and got the stand secured while I had a heart attack.

There's the daredevil.

In his camo, he'll be well concealed.

Time to disguise the ladder.

And don't forget to cut off the tag!

On a side note, while heading to the hunting hole, we drove past a snake working on his tan. I screamed like a girl and hammered down on the gas. D tried to get off and play with it. Men. *smh*