The Bible still speaks

Well, in part to prove to my wife that my life consists of more than hunting (even in November!) I wanted to talk about something cool a few of us are doing. Two weeks ago Sandi and I invited 6 students, mostly Middle School age, to our house for some lunch. The purpose of the meeting was to talk about forming a Christian service group (called "Impact Team" that would have 3 goals:

1. To meet needs in our community with the resources that God has given us

2. To encourage one another in our spiritual growth

3. To pray for those we care about to be drawn closer to God

As part of #2 above we (I) decided that we would spend the next month or so reading the book of 1 John (a short letter written by the Apostle John located near the end of the New Testament - an artist's rendering of John is to the right). I asked the students to read the book several times through over the coming weeks and to even go so far as to re-tell the entire first chapter in their own words (this is due back to me by this coming Sunday).

At any rate, I also have been reading 1 John over the past couple of weeks. And while I was reading the other day in chapter 4 something really stood out to me - in fact, I would go so far as to say that God "spoke to me" through the text (how's that for all of you fellow cynics!)

Here is the passage that I am talking about:

"God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him. In this way, love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment, because in this world we are like him. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love."

What do I think God said to me through this passage? Well, I think he asked a question, and the question was, "Tom, what are you afraid of?"

This question caught me off guard. I mean, me man, me kill deer, me fear nothing (blah, blah, blah...). But after my initial denial, I started doing some reflecting on some of my earliest fears as a child. I won't go into all of the details of this, but suffice it to say that this prayerful reflection brought me to a new level of understanding and freedom (I hope) with some of the baggage that I have been carrying around with me for over 30 years - baggage that still affects my life, my marriage, and my work to this day.

I believe that God wanted me to finally speak this fear aloud, to name it, to see it for what it is. And once this fear is out in the open, confessed to those who know me and care about me, it can be "driven away" as the passage says - driven away by God's perfect love.

Yes, I believe that God still speaks today. The real question is, are any of us listening?

Howard's Buck

Yesterday, a good friend of mine named Howard came by for the afternoon to do a little hunting with his son. After a couple of hours the boy got antsy and ended up in front of a television screen playing video games. Howard, on the other hand, persevered.

I sent Howard to the stand closest to the river where I have seen several bucks this season. Within 5 minutes I see a group of turkey running liked they've been spooked, and then I hear "bang". I radio Howard on the two-way and he says "I got me a buck!". Ignoring for the moment his grammatical error, I got very excited and soon joined him over this nice, little 4-point. This was Howard's 4th deer, but his first experience with field dressing an animal. He did really well and we were soon back to the ranch where Howard got to tell his son "the story".

The story, that's what it's really all about. Those little details, the suspense, the mistakes, and the eventual triumph. I love hearing these stories, and as you know by now, I love telling them.

The interesting parts of this story? The turkey, and this buck, were spooked by some kayakers on the river (it was a very warm day, about 60 degrees). The buck ran right in front of Howard, and then came to a stop only about 30 yards out. What a gift. (I wonder if the guys in the kayak ducked when they heard the shot?)

Pay Dirt!

Well, after 54 days of hunting, after several missed opportunities, and after my wife started praying that I would finally get a deer so that we can get on with our lives, (and save all that money on counseling, lawyers, etc.) it finally happened. Here's the story.

I was in the stand (closest to the river) before sun up this morning. It was cold and calm. Didn't see a thing outside of squirrels and chipmunks for the first couple of hours. And then I glance back to the feeder (close to my other stand and the fort - which is a tree house for the kids that gets commandeered each fall) and I see about 5 deer milling around. So, I flip around in the stand to get ready for a shot and wait. After about 15 minutes a small doe walks past me at about 50 yards, but she is really little and I decide to hold off and see if a bigger deer might follow. Another 20 minutes goes by - nothing. I am now watching a lone deer still at the feeder, and she looks like the biggest one of the bunch.

After a few more minutes I see two toms (male turkey for the uninitiated) making their way to the feeder. They strut on over like they own the place and guess what? They chase the doe away from the feeder and towards me. She only comes as close as 75 yards or so, but she offers me a good shot and I take it. I can see right away that she's been hit, but to be sure I fire off another shell as she runs toward the river. At this moment I am cautiously optimistic.

I wait about 20 minutes or so and start tracking her. There is a good trail and I can see she is heading toward the river. As I come up to the bank I hear some noise and look across - and there she is standing on the other side. I position myself for another shot (my last shell) and she goes down. But now I've got a problem: how am I going to get to her? The river is high and the current moving pretty good. So, I decide to ask my neighbor for help and the use of his canoe. About 45 minutes later we come paddling down the river, me and our 14 year old neighbor. I have my shotgun with 2 more shells just in case. We go to where I last saw the deer - and she's gone. (This is when I started feeling like my entire hunting season has been secretly taped and being made into one of these reality TV shows. I can just hear the voice-over "and now let's see how Tom reacts when he can't find the deer. Will there be more tears? Will he throw his shotgun into the river? Will he forsake hunting for a calmer, gentler sport such as lawn bowling?"

Well, I get out of the canoe and follow the trail on the other side. And guess where it leads? Yep, you guessed it - right back into the river! Now I am in real trouble. The river is murky and deep and I can't see 6" below the surface. I didn't even know where to begin... So, we get back in the canoe and I am going to take my neighbor home when something catches my eye. There's a funny looking rock about 100' downstream, and we decide to check it out. But that's no rock, that's my deer! She crawled back into the river and floated downstream into a snag. I was so happy to shoot, and then actually locate a deer.

But now I've got another problem: how am I and my 14 year-old neighbor going to haul this deer (which we now see is a big deer) into our canoe? My first idea was to tie a rope around her and tow her upstream. Gong! Bad idea - we end up doing a weird version of the canoe-treadmill and get nowhere. My next idea is to take her to the bank and toss her into the canoe. And this we did with much difficulty and some very soggy socks, pants, underwear, cell phone and (well, you get the idea). Once we got her into the canoe she was sprawled out on top of the front seat (which in all of the excitement I thought was the back of the canoe). So, I climb in, and having nowhere else to sit I end up sitting on top of the deer. We then begin paddling upstream with the canoe oriented backwards, and end up going helter-skelter all over the place. What a sight we must have been! You talk about some red neck exploits! My ancestors would have been so proud. (There has to be a joke in here somewhere for Jeff Foxworthy, don't you think?)

Well, in the end we manage to get her back to the house, I manage to get dried off, and I can finally exhale. I tell you - nothing has come easy for me this hunting season, but I finally have something to show for it!

Close, but no cigar (so far)...

Well, I got a new toy this hunting season - it's called a "spy cam". The basic idea is that you hang this digital camera on a tree and when a deer, turkey, or even raccoon waddles on by it snaps a picture. Here is a nice 8-point buck I got a few pictures of in late October. I share this with you because it is the closest I have come yet to actually producing a real deer.

And once again, it is not because I have lacked opportunity. In fact, opening day I shot at a buck quite a bit larger than this one - missed clean at about 100 yards through some brush. I see him again a few days later (long story...) and end up very close to him. I wont say exactly how close, but let's put it this way, if I had a good squirt gun I could have doused him. I take the shot - I miss again. (This is the part of the story where I get a little weepy and consider selling my hunting equipment and diving into scrap booking...) I take my muzzle loader to the range the next day - just like I had done a couple of months ago - and discovered that I am 10" high at 100 yards! I don't know what happened to my scope, but my best guess is that some of my under-achieving hunting buddies are at work behind the scenes.

So, here I am with only a week or so left of firearm season (plus 17 days of muzzle loader in December - thank you God!) with an empty freezer, and a stomach full of humble pie. The only good thing that has come out of this season so far is an idea for a new book - "101 Ways How Not to Kill a Deer". It would be sort of like "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days" except with guns, tree stands and some doe pee...

I wonder how many hunters out there have ever had such a dry spell? (I'm not talking about not seeing deer, I'm talking about having them walk right up to your stand, putting both hooves in the air, yelling out "I surrender!", and then somehow still blowing the shot.) This sort of thing makes me ponder some of the deeper things of life. Questions like, "Does God really hear the prayer of the deer hunter?" come to mind. Along with the follow up "do deer pray - and if so, which prayer is God more likely to answer?" I realize these are the types of questions philosophers and theologians have debated down through the ages and wont be resolved anytime soon, but I can't help but wonder.

But my most urgent question - will I get one last opportunity this season? And if I do, will my prayer get answered first? I guess we'll find out soon enough...

Too Cute to be Scary!

A buck-toothed hillbilly, a green dragon, and an escaped convict - what a sight! It's like the cast of "O, Brother Where Art Thou?" paid a guest visit to Barney or something.

Well, we had a very nice Halloween. Sandi and the kids headed out into the black, cold night with some of our neighbors, and I hung back at the house and dished out candy. (I think this was my first time staying home in years - but definitely something I could get used to.) We only had a few groups of kids come by trick-or-treating this year. Not sure where all the neighborhood kids went to, but they probably went into town where the houses are closer together and the candy flows like a river.

I think next year I'll dress up as a 40 year old, out of shape, cranky old fart who can't keep up with the kids as they run from house to house. And as soon as I eat some potato chips and a pop tart or two I'm going to start working on that costume.

The World's Smallest Whitetail...

Well, deer hunting season officially opened on October 1st in these parts. That means I have had 5 full weeks to fill my tags during our archery season. But the truth is that I have had a miserable hunting season so far. Oh, I've seen lots of deer. And yes, I've already seen a few decent bucks. In fact, I've let an arrow or two fly... but have nothing to show for it.

I would talk more about this, but my therapist has advised me against what he calls "obsessive-compulsive speech" when it comes to my hunting addiction. (You would like my therapist, he dresses in camo head to toe and answers all questions with a grunt call...three grunts for "yes", one grunt for "no", and two grunts for "I need to go potty".) We get along just great!

Where was I?...Oh yes, this is all leading up to my one great achievement of this bow season. I shot a turkey! Yep, as I was busy striking out with all of those bucks I kept noticing this group of turkeys coming to the same spot in our woods each morning. So, one morning I loaded my shotgun, waited in my blind, and squeezed off a "turkey load" at the first bird that stuck its head high into the air. This took all of 90 minutes, and we had some delicious turkey jerky in a few days. (Notice the peculiar look on my face in this picture - my facial muscles were a bit frozen and I couldn't quite eek out a decent smile... but I was happy on the inside!)

If only hunting Whitetail with bow and arrow were so simple...