In the world of hunting, there is a very specific kind of math. It involves season dates, bag limits, and the strategic conservation of “tags.” Most hunters treat their tags like gold—rationing them out, waiting for the “perfect” moment, always keeping one in their pocket just in case a legendary buck appears on the final day of the season.
But Will Roberts doesn’t play by the rules of “just in case.” Will plays by the rules of “right now.”
The Phone Call Heard ‘Round the County
I was at home, still trying to mend from a 72-hour stomach bug that felt like it was personally recruited by the universe to keep me down, when my phone lit up. It was Will. Now, usually, a call from the field means one of two things: someone forgot the snacks, or someone just hit the jackpot.
Before I could even say hello, I heard the excitement in his voice. He wasn’t calling to ask for a Gatorade. He was calling to let me know that he had officially used up his three Alabama buck tags. For the uninitiated, that means he has hit his legal limit for the state. His season, by all technical accounts, was capped. Finished. Done.
As a mother who is constantly trying to manage the logistics of a very busy, very chaotic, and very high-energy household, my internal “logic brain” kicked in immediately.
“Well,” I said, unable to resist a little jab, “it sounds more to me like your deer season just ended, buddy!!!!”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. The kind of pause that only a teenager can deliver when they realize their mother has dared to bring “reality” into their moment of glory.
“Not funny, mom,” he replied, his tone as dry as a desert. “You’re not funny.”
The Lacey Dilemma
As I sat there (still feeling a bit green from the bug), I started thinking about the ethics of the deer stand. See, Will wasn’t out there alone. Lacey had been right there with him. She didn’t just drop him off; she sat with him all day. Anyone who has ever sat in a deer stand knows that it isn’t always a high-octane adrenaline rush. It’s a test of patience. It’s hours of sitting still, whispering, and freezing in the cold, waiting for a movement in the brush.
Lacey put in the time. She put in the work.
In my mind, the solution was simple: If Will was nearing his limit, he should have let Lacey take the shot! He could have let her claim the tag, saved his own for a later date, and they both would have walked away winners. It was a perfect tactical move. It was a gesture of chivalry. It was… apparently, not going to happen.
Will’s philosophy is much more direct. If a buck is in his sights, and the heart is pumping, and the moment is perfect—he’s taking the shot. He isn’t thinking about January. He isn’t thinking about “out-of-state” logistics yet. He is living entirely within the four inches of his scope.
Living for Today vs. Planning for Tomorrow
This small, funny argument over buck tags actually highlights something much deeper about Will’s spirit. For most of us, “living in the moment” is a trendy catchphrase we put on coffee mugs or yoga mats. We try to be present, but we are almost always distracted by tomorrow. We worry about our schedules, our budgets, our health, and our “tags” for the future.
Will doesn’t have that luxury, and perhaps because of that, he has developed a superpower: He is incapable of living for tomorrow.
To Will, a tag in the pocket is a wasted opportunity. A day spent “waiting” is a day lost. While I’m at home worrying about the next 72 hours of my recovery or the next 72 days of the winter, Will is out there squeezing every ounce of life out of the current hour.
It’s a “lifetime problem” of his, as I like to call it. He lives so intensely in the “now” that he often leaves the “later” to sort itself out. And while it drives me crazy as a parent trying to keep up with his out-of-state travel plans, I also realize that he is the one who has it right. None of us are promised tomorrow’s hunting season. We are only promised the buck that is standing in front of us right now.
The Out-of-State Ambition
So, what does a boy do when he’s out of tags but still has the fire in his belly? He looks at a map.
The fact that he’s already scouting hunts in other states tells you everything you need to know about his resilience. He isn’t going to sit on the couch and wait for next year. He’s going to find a way to keep the momentum going. He’s going to chase the adventure wherever it leads, even if it means crossing state lines and making his mother’s head spin with the logistics.
Jason sent me a photo shortly after the call, and it was clear they weren’t planning on coming home anytime soon. They were reveling in the win, ignoring the “Not Funny” mom at home, and probably already googling hunting regulations for neighboring states.
The Best Medicine
Even though I’m the one who is technically sick, Will’s antics are often the best medicine for me. His “Not Funny” comment made me laugh more than any sitcom could. Seeing him so focused on his passion—so healthy and vibrant that he’s literally “breaking the limit” of his season—is a miracle in itself.
I’ll gladly take the title of the “Unfunny Mom” if it means I get to watch my son live his absolute best life. I’ll keep trying to mend from this bug, and I’ll keep preparing for the next wall we need to build for his mounts.
Life with Will is a whirlwind. It’s a constant lesson in letting go of the plan and embracing the chaos. It’s about understanding that sometimes, the best way to honor life is to use all your tags as fast as you can, because the hunt is the reward—not the trophies we save for later.
So, Lacey, maybe next time you’ll get the shot. But knowing Will? You’d better be faster on the draw, because this kid doesn’t wait for anyone.
#WillStrong #LivingInTheMoment #HuntingLife #MomIsntFunny #TagOut #Resilience #FamilyVibes #StrongerEveryDay
