Anyone who enjoys the outdoors should be delighted that women are getting more involved in outdoor sports. Wildlife agencies in many states are sponsoring programs to help women learn about sports such as hunting, fishing and fly-tying.

I’m happy to see the value of such instruction is finally being recognized. If a fellow could get his wife to attend a program like this, she might become interested in fishing and hunting – or learn how to tie up a few Carey Specials in the lantern light of the old fishing cabin.

Sponsors are quick to point out these outdoor programs are not just for wives; they’re for any woman who wants to become more involved in outdoor sports. Women don’t attend just because husbands want them to, either.

That doesn’t surprise me. Experts tell us many women don’t enjoy taking suggestions from their husbands.

I’m reminded of a woman describing her job to my wife a few years ago: “This is the worst job I’ve ever had,” she said. “Everyone is always telling me what to do and then complaining about the way I do it. It’s like going fishing with your husband.”

My wife thought that was hilarious, but I didn’t. Sometimes her sense of humor leaves me baffled.

Don’t get me wrong, I think outdoor programs for women are a great idea – married or unmarried. I would expect single men are asking for the graduation list. The class offerings are excellent. The weekend program I read about includes game calling, working dogs, rappelling, wilderness medicine and kayaking.

I questioned the rappelling and kayaking at first, but I suppose these have some value. I can think of several instances where I’ve dropped a bird over a cliff, and someone who was good at rappelling would be a fine companion in those situations.

Kayaking skills would come in handy if a bear was swimming toward your boat and the little woman was obliged to use the oars on him. Or, for those times when a person is camped in the swamp and someone has to swat mosquitoes with her canoe paddle.

I was especially happy to see the class on wilderness medicine. The value of this subject was impressed upon me and some elk-hunting friends many years ago. My two friends and I arrived in camp with two tents and one stove. We somehow decided to put the stove in the cook tent and sleep in the cold, clammy one.

Then, we pitched our sleeping tent with the door uphill so the melting snow would trickle in and float our sleeping bags. Next, I got out some steaks for dinner, with the plan of cooking them outside under the tent flap.

The cold rain and snow turned my steak-grilling job into a two-hour ordeal. Dinner was late that evening, and Happy Hour was longer than usual.

My friends and I laugh about that outing nearly every time we see each other. Even after all of these years, everyone agrees – we should have been thankful for the wilderness medicine we packed into camp.

Readers with questions or comments for Roger Pond may write to him in care of this publication.