Early Saturday afternoon Christopher and I arrived at the primitive camp ground and parked the airstream. After a long hike through the woods, we climbed separate trees and settled in for the hunt. Chris caught my attention and informed me he had seen two turkeys. Other than the sighting of the two birds and with the exception of one squirrel, we didn't see anything else for the rest of the day.
After a good night's rest we headed back to the wood, climbed our trees and got settled in our stands twenty minutes before daylight. At ten o'clock Chris saw two doe leap across a lane cut through the pine tree plantation. He tells me to use the deer call. I picked up the doe call and bleat to them about four times. Three minutes later, I spotted two young deer coming our way and about to step out into the lane. I saw Chris looking the other way and knew he had no clue deer were so close. I had to get his attention without spooking the deer.
"Chris," I softly whispered.
He turned his head and made eye contact. I held up two fingers and pointed toward the deer.
"Two deer, get ready," I tell him. And he gives me this incredible look, as if to say, "You've got to be kidding me."
I couldn't believe it! I did everything I could except shout to make him believe me and he finally looked to where I was frantically pointing, begging him to shoot. He saw the first deer step out, raised his rifle and shot, dropping it on the spot! He told me later how he really did think I was pulling his leg.
During the long hike out of the woods, he caught my attention and told me had to take a break to rest. His request filled me with a sense of self-satisfaction since, it was only last November that it was I demanding the breaks. And it was Chris and Matthew calling me the old man. Folks, let me tell you, the walking has paid off big time! It'll be a while before I hear the boys picking on me again. So, if you can, take a few minutes out of each day and do some walking. Once you get past the first step, you've got it made. And get outdoors where good memories and strong bonds are formed.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
WRITING NEWS
Jerry Wise of Wise Printing has possession of the written manuscript of "MY Father's Gift." I nervously await the completion and the outcome of his reading and/or editing. The book is taking a critical first step in becoming a self-published reality. I continue to recieve much needed encouragement and prayers from family and friends.
In other news I recieved an unexpected visit from the owner of the "Christian Star Magazine." She asked if I'd be interested in writing an outdoor column. She and I are to have a secondary meeting to discuss further details.
I've also spoken to Thomas, who is drawing the illustrations for the book. He too is in need of prayer, for health issues.
And I've met a professional photographer named Jim George while walking. He took the portraits of me to be used on the cover of the book, with no charge. So, as you can see, the prayers continue to be answered in unexpected ways. Thanks and if you don't mind, please continue.
In other news I recieved an unexpected visit from the owner of the "Christian Star Magazine." She asked if I'd be interested in writing an outdoor column. She and I are to have a secondary meeting to discuss further details.
I've also spoken to Thomas, who is drawing the illustrations for the book. He too is in need of prayer, for health issues.
And I've met a professional photographer named Jim George while walking. He took the portraits of me to be used on the cover of the book, with no charge. So, as you can see, the prayers continue to be answered in unexpected ways. Thanks and if you don't mind, please continue.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Chris and I went to a youth hunt at one of my favorite places where I had experienced several grand adventures in the past. It's called Red Dirt wma. If you look for it on a map of Louisiana you will find it located in the heart of the Kisatchie National Forest, just south and west of the historic city of Natchitoches. The last time I can recall visiting the tall wooded ridges sprinkled with scattered boulders was way back in the year 1997, when I downed the largest racked buck of my life. During the drive for this special trip with my son I envisioned him doing the same. I should have known better.
My first clue things wouldn't be as I thought came shortly after arriving at the ranger's check-in station, a requirement. I informed the ranger where I intended to set up camp and he said that would be okay, but I may want to reconsider. During the ensuing conservation he told me of a 580acre forest fire burning nearby and all of the firefighters battling the blaze were using my camping spot as a base for operations!
Not knowing where else to go, Chris and I set up camp a short distance away from all of the firemen and their equipment and left for the Saturday evening hunt. I parked the truck off of the road and looked north, where the fire was located. A thick column of wood smoke billowed upward, about a half mile away. The pine scented-aromatic smoke was all around us, filling the sky and covering the land, somewhat reminding me of a foggy morning. The ranger didn't tell us not to hunt there, so we figured everything would be okay and entered the woods. DUH!
We spent the rest of that evening and the next morning waiting for the stampede of animals fleeing the fire. The whole while white and black ashes drifted down from the shy and landed softly on the ground all around us. The drone of the fire fighting airplanes buzzing the sky filled the airwaves. We didn't see any animals other than an overweight squirrel too big to flee and one hawk. I spent the entire hunt wondering if the fire would jump the road, consume my truck and then, us. I thank God it didn't happen.
Of course, we came home empty handed and unscorched. There was no venison in the ice chest. But we did come home with something much more precious than gold or venison, a shared memory of another great outdoor adventure in God's forest. And just when I thought I had seen it all!
My first clue things wouldn't be as I thought came shortly after arriving at the ranger's check-in station, a requirement. I informed the ranger where I intended to set up camp and he said that would be okay, but I may want to reconsider. During the ensuing conservation he told me of a 580acre forest fire burning nearby and all of the firefighters battling the blaze were using my camping spot as a base for operations!
Not knowing where else to go, Chris and I set up camp a short distance away from all of the firemen and their equipment and left for the Saturday evening hunt. I parked the truck off of the road and looked north, where the fire was located. A thick column of wood smoke billowed upward, about a half mile away. The pine scented-aromatic smoke was all around us, filling the sky and covering the land, somewhat reminding me of a foggy morning. The ranger didn't tell us not to hunt there, so we figured everything would be okay and entered the woods. DUH!
We spent the rest of that evening and the next morning waiting for the stampede of animals fleeing the fire. The whole while white and black ashes drifted down from the shy and landed softly on the ground all around us. The drone of the fire fighting airplanes buzzing the sky filled the airwaves. We didn't see any animals other than an overweight squirrel too big to flee and one hawk. I spent the entire hunt wondering if the fire would jump the road, consume my truck and then, us. I thank God it didn't happen.
Of course, we came home empty handed and unscorched. There was no venison in the ice chest. But we did come home with something much more precious than gold or venison, a shared memory of another great outdoor adventure in God's forest. And just when I thought I had seen it all!
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Update
I wasn't with them so I can't properly tell any stories, but my new-old buddies Shannon and Ian have had some success with their blackpowder rifles. Ian brought home the venison by putting down a tender doe. Shannon shot a monster boar hog (300lbs.) and donated it to feed the hungry.
Meanwhile, I've met wtih a publisher. The first step has been taken to see the book "My Father's Gift" become a reality!
Meanwhile, I've met wtih a publisher. The first step has been taken to see the book "My Father's Gift" become a reality!
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Opening Day- Saturday Evening
The three of us returned to the old airstream to eat sandwiches for lunch and discuss our options for the evening hunt. Everything was proceeding smoothly until Ian and I discovered Shannon trying to conceal a stash of oatmeal cookies. To make a long story short, we all had oatmeal cookies after the dust settled.
Two o'clock found us parting ways in the woods to search for our own tree to climb, far away from where we had originally began the day. We had scouted the area weeks ago and found a lot of promising deer sign, our hopes were high.
I found what I thought was the perfect tree to climb and attached my climbing stand to it for the hunt. After settling down and getting comfortable the only thing left for me to do was to sit and wait for the appearance of the wily-old whitetail. The uneventful wait dragged on and on and spanned over the next five hours.
The sun was sinking to meet the horizon, time gained speed was quickly expiring. The high level of confidence I began the hunt with took a corresponding nose dive with the disappearing orb. A saving grace was the fact the sunset was really very beautiful and I wouldn't have seen this gift of God's artwork by sitting on the couch.
A few minutes later, the weakening sun was almost out of sight and darkness was approaching. All of the birds were preparing to roost for the night and the woods were becoming unaturally quite. The moment had arrived for me to start thinking of the exit from the woods.
And then . . .A stick cracked behind me and sent the loud sound of a rifle shot through the high volume setting of the hearing aid residing in my left ear. I'm glad the large trunk of the pine tree I was sitting in blocked the view of whatever was behind me. Otherwise, I'm certain it would have seen me jump. I slowly turned my head to see what invader had the gall to interrupt my peace. I discovered not one, but two does and they were less than fifteen yards away!
The moment of truth was at hand and I ever so slowly twisted my body to face the animals and drew the bowstring all the way back to my ear. My right eye peered through the sight and placed it on the larger animal's shoulder, but I had one small problem. The arrow would have to pass through a small obstruction of tiny tree limbs. I found an opening, about eight inches in diameter. After years of practicing to hit a one inch bull'seye at thirty yards, it was much more than I needed. My index finger gently squeezed the trigger of the release. My eyes locked onto the bight colors of the fletching and watched it fly true. They saw the broadhead pass through the center of the opening exposing the unsuspecting deer's shoulder and then lost sight of it. A loud CRAAACK! filled the air at the same time of the broadhead's passing through the opening.
Pandemonium broke loose! The two startled deer (one of which I knew to be mortally wounded), crashed through the woods with their white tails waving in the air, in a gesture of defiance and blowing out insults to the nut sitting in the tree (you guessed it, me).
Hey, don't get upset, it's really alright, since I knew I'd have the last laugh at the dinner table. Why, it was so close to dinner time, with a little imagination I could already smell the venison sausage cooking.
Darkness soon enveloped the woods and the small portable radio in my pocket sqawked to life. It was No Primer Shannon.
"Hey Rodney, did I hear you shoot?" he asked.
"Yea, you sure did," I responded, my shaky voice betraying my excitement.
"What was it? I saw two does pass by me after you shot," he responded.
"I shot a doe."
"Did you make a good shot?"
"Hold on a minute. Think about who you're talking to here. Now really, a second place finisher in a statewide archery tournament, and you're asking me if I made a good shot? It was only fifteen yards away." I was still high on adrenaline and was having some fun at Shannon's expense.
"Whoa! I'm sorry Deadeye. I'll get down and come help you look for her."
"Thanks partner. I'll see you soon."
After the brief conversation ended, I climbed down from the tree and went to search for the bloody arrow. I found half an arrow instead. The half containing the broadhead. I held it in my hand and my unbelieving eyes examined it in detail in the bright beam of light generated by my headlamp. I went into temporary shock when my brain finally accepted the truth the eyes were relaying. It's still painful to admit, but here it is, THE BROKEN ARROW WAS CLEAN. Which of course meant that I had somehow MISSED and THE DEER HAD HAD THE LAST LAUGH AFTER ALL!
I tromped through the woods holding onto the clean-broken arrow to intercept Shannon and Ian and to save them from walking to meet me. Of course, I had to eat crow and offer my most sincere apologies to Shannon for ridiculing him for questioning my shot placement. I will always be grateful to him for graciously accepting it, but the gleam in his eyes and the curled lip tells me I haven't heard the end of it.
The consensus is, the downward trajectory of the arrow caused the rear half of the shaft to glance off of one of the small limbs. The result was to throw the arrow radically off to the side into a tree. The violent impact had thus, broken the arrow in two.
Until next time . . . THE END.
Two o'clock found us parting ways in the woods to search for our own tree to climb, far away from where we had originally began the day. We had scouted the area weeks ago and found a lot of promising deer sign, our hopes were high.
I found what I thought was the perfect tree to climb and attached my climbing stand to it for the hunt. After settling down and getting comfortable the only thing left for me to do was to sit and wait for the appearance of the wily-old whitetail. The uneventful wait dragged on and on and spanned over the next five hours.
The sun was sinking to meet the horizon, time gained speed was quickly expiring. The high level of confidence I began the hunt with took a corresponding nose dive with the disappearing orb. A saving grace was the fact the sunset was really very beautiful and I wouldn't have seen this gift of God's artwork by sitting on the couch.
A few minutes later, the weakening sun was almost out of sight and darkness was approaching. All of the birds were preparing to roost for the night and the woods were becoming unaturally quite. The moment had arrived for me to start thinking of the exit from the woods.
And then . . .A stick cracked behind me and sent the loud sound of a rifle shot through the high volume setting of the hearing aid residing in my left ear. I'm glad the large trunk of the pine tree I was sitting in blocked the view of whatever was behind me. Otherwise, I'm certain it would have seen me jump. I slowly turned my head to see what invader had the gall to interrupt my peace. I discovered not one, but two does and they were less than fifteen yards away!
The moment of truth was at hand and I ever so slowly twisted my body to face the animals and drew the bowstring all the way back to my ear. My right eye peered through the sight and placed it on the larger animal's shoulder, but I had one small problem. The arrow would have to pass through a small obstruction of tiny tree limbs. I found an opening, about eight inches in diameter. After years of practicing to hit a one inch bull'seye at thirty yards, it was much more than I needed. My index finger gently squeezed the trigger of the release. My eyes locked onto the bight colors of the fletching and watched it fly true. They saw the broadhead pass through the center of the opening exposing the unsuspecting deer's shoulder and then lost sight of it. A loud CRAAACK! filled the air at the same time of the broadhead's passing through the opening.
Pandemonium broke loose! The two startled deer (one of which I knew to be mortally wounded), crashed through the woods with their white tails waving in the air, in a gesture of defiance and blowing out insults to the nut sitting in the tree (you guessed it, me).
Hey, don't get upset, it's really alright, since I knew I'd have the last laugh at the dinner table. Why, it was so close to dinner time, with a little imagination I could already smell the venison sausage cooking.
Darkness soon enveloped the woods and the small portable radio in my pocket sqawked to life. It was No Primer Shannon.
"Hey Rodney, did I hear you shoot?" he asked.
"Yea, you sure did," I responded, my shaky voice betraying my excitement.
"What was it? I saw two does pass by me after you shot," he responded.
"I shot a doe."
"Did you make a good shot?"
"Hold on a minute. Think about who you're talking to here. Now really, a second place finisher in a statewide archery tournament, and you're asking me if I made a good shot? It was only fifteen yards away." I was still high on adrenaline and was having some fun at Shannon's expense.
"Whoa! I'm sorry Deadeye. I'll get down and come help you look for her."
"Thanks partner. I'll see you soon."
After the brief conversation ended, I climbed down from the tree and went to search for the bloody arrow. I found half an arrow instead. The half containing the broadhead. I held it in my hand and my unbelieving eyes examined it in detail in the bright beam of light generated by my headlamp. I went into temporary shock when my brain finally accepted the truth the eyes were relaying. It's still painful to admit, but here it is, THE BROKEN ARROW WAS CLEAN. Which of course meant that I had somehow MISSED and THE DEER HAD HAD THE LAST LAUGH AFTER ALL!
I tromped through the woods holding onto the clean-broken arrow to intercept Shannon and Ian and to save them from walking to meet me. Of course, I had to eat crow and offer my most sincere apologies to Shannon for ridiculing him for questioning my shot placement. I will always be grateful to him for graciously accepting it, but the gleam in his eyes and the curled lip tells me I haven't heard the end of it.
The consensus is, the downward trajectory of the arrow caused the rear half of the shaft to glance off of one of the small limbs. The result was to throw the arrow radically off to the side into a tree. The violent impact had thus, broken the arrow in two.
Until next time . . . THE END.