Tails from the Woods

By Rick Gordon

Welcome to Tails from the Woods! This compilation of short stories is about one man's lifetime of experiences hunting and camping alone or with family and friends. These stories contain memories ranging from early childhood to late adulthood that land the author in many different predicaments from which lessons are learned through successes and failures. These lessons, combined with scriptures from the Bible, helped the author to better understand God's Word and His will for our lives. Some of these stories might help novice hunters increase their hunting skills. But most focus on the mistakes that come from inexperience or carelessness that can lead to hilarious and unwanted outcomes. Maybe you're a seasoned hunter. Maybe you are just starting your hunting career. Or maybe you just like to spend time in God's glorious creation. Hopefully, Rick Gordon's stories, combined with thought-provoking scripture, will bring a smile to your face and help you avoid pitfalls in the woods or in your walk with Christ and all His creation!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781638747765

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Tails from the Woods

Rick Gordon

ISBN 978-1-63874-775-8 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63874-777-2 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-63874-776-5 (digital)

Copyright © 2022 by Rick Gordon

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Preface

Chapter 1

In the Beginning

Chapter 2

Run Rick, Run!

Chapter 3

Suiting Up

Chapter 4

Pruning Your Tree

Chapter 5

Practice, Practice, Practice

Chapter 6

Where Did You Say the Stand Was?

Chapter 7

Blind Leading the Blind

Chapter 8

Whose Antler Is This?

Chapter 9

Playing the Wind

Chapter 10

Peace Be Still

Chapter 11

Patterning Your Prey

Chapter 12

An Eye to See and an Ear to Hear

Chapter 13

Going to the Camp with Hunting Buddies

Chapter 14

Who's Afraid of Coyotes?

Chapter 15

My Deer Know My Voice

Chapter 16

The Law Is the Law: Hunting Regulations

Chapter 17

Signs of the Seasons: Excitement Begins

Chapter 18

Teaching a Young Buck

Chapter 19

Be Still

My Son Says What?

Chapter 20

Father and Son

Chapter 21

One More Before You Go

Chapter 22

Planting a Food Plot

Chapter 23

There May Be Blood

Chapter 24

Scouting and Treestands

Chapter 25

The Weak Things to Confound the Mighty

Chapter 26

A Virtuous Wife

Chapter 27

A Savory Stew

Chapter 28

Be Sure Your Sins Will Find You Out

Chapter 29

Just Be the Tree

Chapter 30

Me and My Big Mouth

Chapter 31

So You Think You're Well Hidden

Chapter 32

Lost Arrows

Chapter 33

Serpents in the Garden

Chapter 34

You're in the Wrong Place

Chapter 35

Some Day It Will All Be Theirs

Acknowledgments

About the Author

To my wife, Beth. All my love.

Preface

We all have memories we share with family and friends as we gather during group outings, holidays, and other social events. We have so many stories about the good times spent with family and friends and continually repeat them over time. In this way, our loved ones are always with us whether they live close by, at great distance, or have passed on to be with the Lord. The stories always make us laugh and smile and remember good times, recent and long ago. So, I wrote this book in hopes that the events and people contained within will not be forgotten with the passage of time, allowing future generations to laugh and smile long after we are all gone.

Some may wonder why I intentionally misspelled tales in the title. I hope readers will indulge my use of tails as that's what I think of when headed to the woods. There is little that can compare to the grace of several whitetail deer crossing a field with those white tails flagging or the majesty of a full-grown tom turkey in full strut with his tail feathers creating a large fan as he attempts to attract a hen.

This is not a book about how to hunt although it does contain a lot of what I've learned over my years of hunting. It's not a book on all my successful hunting trips and what I did to bag my trophies, but there are stories about some of my successes while hunting. My intention was to write a book that both hunters and nonhunters alike would enjoy. I write a lot about how I hunt and how a person might improve their hunting skills. But I am, by no means, an expert hunter and don't want to be perceived as such.

There are many more skilled and experienced hunters who might read this book and disagree with some of the content. They may have greater knowledge and skills of their own that would have them shaking their heads over my advice. To those hunters, I say you have my deepest honor and respect. I would enjoy spending time with you to gain from your knowledge to improve my own skills.

Many hunting and biblical lessons were revealed to me during my trips to the woods. God taught me lessons from multiple opportunities for mistakes I made during my years chasing deer and turkey. Hopefully these lessons will be helpful examples to new hunters so they won't fall into the same blunders I made while learning to enjoy hunting. Also, I hope it may help new and older Christians who might read something in these pages to help them have a closer walk with God!

In this book, I reminisce about some good times hunting with my family and friends. These wonderful people chipped in to create a wealth of knowledge back in my early days. They helped me learn how to hunt and continued to add to the riches of times spent in the woods throughout the years that followed.

Most of all, these are stories looking back on my walk with God and how my years in the outdoors helped me know Him better while gaining a deeper understanding of the scriptures. I include scriptures relevant to the stories to help bring the Bible alive in our daily walk with Christ. The stories are all real with some spatters of embellished conversation as my memory of the events cannot be completely accurate for what was said during a particular episode. I'm not sure anyone can remember everything said years ago word for word. I also include Scriptures to go with those lessons learned.

You will read about controversial topics concerning faith in God and hunting, which may be offensive or disturbing to some individuals. It is by no means meant to be either. However, if you are opposed to such topics, this book is probably not for you.

I don't know your walk through life. Maybe you've made similar mistakes and never had anybody to talk with about them for fear of ridicule by friends and fellow hunters. But if any of this helps you get through the rest of your days, it will be well worth the time to sit down and write. So, get ready. It's time to read or put the book down.

Chapter 1

In the Beginning

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, let there be light: and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good.

—Genesis 1:1–4 (KJV)

Everything needs a beginning. My hunting career felt like it began similar to the above, especially the part about being without form and void. I started out with a couple of stories from hunting when I was a kid tramping in the woods with friends. Later, I didn't see many deer as a young adult mostly because nobody really taught me how to find them.

The early stories were unconnected and just kind of floating around without any direction. Without instruction, I had no idea what to bring to the hunt in the way of skills and equipment to increase my odds for success. In essence, my outdoor sporting career was as shapeless as the face of the deep that God's face passed over eventually creating and forming our planet.

Without guidance to learn to love the outdoors and the joys that come with hunting with family and friends, I drifted away to other interests such as sports, cars, and dating. As a young man, dating turned to marriage and all the responsibilities that go with starting a new life with another person becoming one in Christ. I didn't return to hunting until 1998 when I turned thirty-eight years old. My friends at church kept encouraging me to get involved as a way of sharing in a common interest. I have to admit, the stories they told of time spent hunting could range from exciting to humorous and sometimes downright frightening. But they always seemed to skip the parts where they would just sit for hours without seeing a single thing beyond birds and squirrels. The most they would get those days were sticks and tree limbs to the face as they walked to a blind or a hunting stand in pitch dark.

I say I returned to hunting when I was thirty-eight because, in my youth, I played around at it in the woods without really knowing what I was supposed to be doing. I had an older sister and two older brothers who were into their own lives that didn't include taking an annoying little brother with them. To be fair, I had a younger sister and brother I felt the same way about. I didn't want to take them with me when I hung out with my friends.

Just like many others, I began my hunting career with a popgun that shot cork attached to a string from a barrel so that it was easy to reload. I also had a bow and arrow set with sucker cups attached to the arrow tips to make them stick to a wall. They were relatively harmless when a young boy unskilled in the knowledge of right and wrong shot the dog or cat. But those episodes soon taught me lessons that would help sharpen my ability to skillfully discern right and wrong as I got my bottom tanned by my mother or father who saw me shoot at the dog or cat.

Many young hunters relished the day that they were given the first meaningful weapon that could actually fire a projectile and make a hole in a target. Mine was a Daisy Red Ryder BB Gun. Ah yes, the Red Ryder was a beauty! I loved that BB gun dearly, except for the time I wanted to know what would happen if you pulled the trigger with cocking arm open.

To children everywhere, I say never do this! Ever! The cocking arm came back hard enough to split my thumbnail open as it returned to a closed position on the rifle. I didn't love my BB gun so much in that moment. But I did learn respect for it! My respect for the weapon increased as I decided to take it out into the yard to hunt something. When I got tired of shooting at a red, white, and blue ringed target that showed my shooting accuracy, I started looking for other things to shoot.

Little plastic army men became my next target of choice as they flew backward with every shot of the Red Ryder. But soon I got bored with this as well.

What about the cat or dog? I thought to myself for just a split second. But then I visualized a future where a good butt whopping would be on the way. Not to mention, I would make lifelong enemies with the dog and cat. And since I liked both of them, I quickly discarded them from my thoughts of possible targets.

So, I continued running around the yard looking for suitable prey. Just then, I spotted the beasts beside the front doorstep. Their large, green, heart-shaped ears moved slightly with the gentle breeze.

Elephants! my young twelve-year-old mind exclaimed.

I was now on safari. I moved around the rock wall leading up to the little herd. I found a place where they could not detect my presence and placed the barrel of the trusty Red Ryder on the rock wall to steady my aim.

I shot at least four or five of those beasts, placing at least two to three shots in each one before I decided to move on to other targets in the yard. I had completely forgotten about the safari when I heard my mother shouting, Eric Lloyd Gordon! Where are you? You come here this instant!

Oh no! The dreaded three name command to come here. Not only was it the three name, but she used my formal name, Eric! I go by Rick to all my family and friends, so I knew this was gonna be real bad.

Yeah, Mama! I shouted coming around the corner of the house and out of breath. You don't dare do anything but run to her as commanded when she used the three name.

What do you see here? she demanded as she pointed to her prize elephant ear plants.

Some plants, I replied in my ignorance about plants.

These are my elephant ears. Look at them! Where'd those holes come from?

From time to time, I look back on those events such as shooting the elephant ears, stepping in mud puddles while wearing my good black leather Sunday shoes, knocking my brother off the handlebars of my bike, causing him to break his arm because I didn't want him to ride with me, getting a bad report card, etc. They all helped me to understand the true meaning behind Numbers 32:23 where it says,

But if you fail to do this, you will be sinning against the Lord; and you may be sure that your sins will find you out.

I was caught like a mouse in a trap. What could I say as I stood there with the offending Red Ryder hanging in my hands by my side? Maybe some bugs ate holes in them, I suggested.

Do those bugs lay little shiny eggs that look like this? Mom asked, holding out the evidence of my crime. How foolish I was not to collect my brass.

There was nothing my mind could contrive to say. I could only stand there, giving her the blank stare of some beast caught in the act of tearing up my mom's flowers.

Give me that! Mom said, reaching for my beloved Red Ryder. It wasn't the Red Ryder's fault. It was mine. I had betrayed it, and now we would both have to pay the price for my sinful behavior. Would she destroy it? Sell it? Give it away? I feared I would never see my beloved Red Ryder again.

I held out the weapon, and Mom took it. Then came the obligatory hide tanning earned by those who disobeyed their parents. I wasn't worried about the hide tanning. It wasn't my first and wouldn't be my last.

But once again, my mind struggled with the question of greatest concern. What would become of the Red Ryder? Then I heard her speak words of hope and encouragement. You'll get this back once you've learned your lesson, and I can be sure this will never happen again! Mom said as she took my BB gun inside.

It seemed like an eternity before I was reunited with my Red Ryder, but in actuality, it was probably about a week or two. Then I was off on more adventures with my trusty friend.

Once I got my BB gun back from my mother, there came a day when I killed my first real prey. It was the one and only hapless duck I would kill. My friends and I were out running around when we came across some ducks swimming in a creek. I was carrying my Daisy BB gun, and they both carried CO2 pellet rifles. I secretly admired those pellet rifles.

They looked like something you could carry off to war, taking out the enemy on some mission to capture a hill. In contrast, my Red Ryder looked like something you carried to ride the range and herd cattle. But my Red Ryder had the advantage of being able to be pumped full of air to fire. When the twins' rifles ran out of CO2, they became useless.

I'm pretty sure kids under sixteen years old didn't need a license to duck hunt. Or maybe that just applied to fishing. It was during the late summer of 1972, so looking back at that time, I realize now I shot the duck out of season. So, license or not, we shouldn't have been shooting at them.

But as I said, my friends and I were running around near the creek behind my grandparents' home when we came across some unsuspecting ducks paddling in the creek below a steep bank. We had our BB guns, and without thinking, we did what many kids in our day would have done and started shooting.

I felt surprised, shocked, and admittedly saddened by what I had done. But my friends were there, cheering me on. I had to fake bravado at the deed and act like I was happy about it. So, there was nothing left to do but take the hapless duck home and show it to my dad. He didn't lecture me about it. He didn't even give me a butt whooping. Dad just took the duck, gutted it out, and removed the feathers for me before putting it in the freezer.

I'm pretty sure my mom was unhappy about it, but she didn't say anything either. We later ate that duck for Thanksgiving along with turkey and all the other fixings. Maybe it was the way it was cooked or maybe my guilt tainted my enjoyment, but I decided I didn't like the taste of duck.

I was a teenager of thirteen to fourteen years old in the early to mid-1970s. Back then, I would run around my hometown of Heber Springs, Arkansas, carrying a .410, and sometimes a 12-gauge shotgun, heading out to the woods to go hunting in the fall. I would start my hunting trips by walking down my neighborhood street, through the middle of town. Next, I met my friends, Rick and Dick, at their home located on the east end of town. They were the twins with the fancy pellet rifles.

Rick and Dick were twins I liked to hang out with, especially when they got mad at each other. When they did, they'd go to punching and wrestling until one or the other would cry, Uncle! The twins would get their guns and away we'd go walking toward Sugarloaf Mountain to look for deer. By now, the twins had upgraded to bolt action .410 shotguns while I carried a single shot .410 with a lever action breakdown. It still looked like they were headed off to war while I rode the range.

During one trip with the twins, another boy went with us. His name was Travis. I don't rightly remember what type of weapon Travis carried or if he carried one at all. But it didn't matter. We were all willing to share.

Back in my youth, there were no terroristic acts that would make anyone think we might be a threat to homeland security. In fact, during the town's fall festival, grown men and older boys would carry shotguns loaded with blanks and fire them off right down by the courthouse square. They would also carry guns while riding in a parade on floats and trailers. Some of the floats carried washtubs containing catfish with their heads and tails sticking out both sides as men and fish rode down through Main Street hootin' and hollerin'.

We had to walk about three miles to get to Sugarloaf Mountain. But as kids, we had tons of energy and never seemed to realize how far distances actually were. This was especially true since it was a round-trip of six miles. As we walked along, I was always thrilled to be out in the countryside. The air was warm. The sun was bright on those blue-sky days. Dirt roads wound lazily through the Ozark Mountain countryside surrounded by steep banks and tall trees. Dry flies, or what most folks call cicadas, buzzed their mating calls while huge dragonflies glided lazily in the air above our heads. The sweet smell of honeysuckle filled the air making breathing a joy and not just a requirement.

When my friends and I got to the end of our long walk out to our huntin' spot, we didn't really know what to do, so we ended up shooting at cans, marks on trees or fish in the local sewer ponds. Turns out, those fish were a type of carp that helped in processing stuff I won't mention here. At some point, around the time we were completely bored from shooting at the sewer ponds and trees, we noticed the sun was starting to get lower on the horizon. It was time we began to head back home. Heaven help us if we got back home by the time the streetlights came on!

As we walked along, Travis suddenly stopped and put his hand on one of the twins' arm to alert him. Do you hear that? he asked, sounding a little panicked. We all strained to hear what Travis's superior hearing had detected.

I don't hear anything, I said out loud, earning me a stern look and a shh! from Travis. We all went back to straining our ears. Then Travis whispered with awe and fear in his voice.

There! There it is again! Travis now said, dropping to all fours to hide in the thick brush beside the dirt road. Black bear! he cried in a loud voice that startled us all.

Now Travis had our attention. We all froze as ice began to replace the blood in our veins. There were black bears in the region in the distant past. But there were no reports of any black bear by the time we were all kids. This was a fact that the twins and I didn't know.

Where? one of the twins whispered back with a lot of concern in his voice. By now, we had all dropped to our hands and knees beside Travis. Our various weapons were lying beside us. We kept our hands on our shotguns ready to get up and shoot if we had to!

That way! Travis hissed, pointing to the north. We stared hard for a minute in the direction Travis was pointing. All we could see was the tall yellow and green grass in the field that led down a wide, gentle sloping hill near the woods north of our position.

A kind of silence, so quiet you could almost feel it, hung heavy in the air. After a minute or two of straining to hear something, anything, I swear I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. Something made a loud cracking sound in the woods, and we all grabbed our weapons and jumped up as if stung by bees! We began running west in the direction of home. Travis and one of the twins were faster than me. But I had a twin behind me, so I felt a little safer.

We covered a mile before we all fell to our knees to catch our breath. But we knew we couldn't stay down long. That bear was still out there! Do you think we got away? Dick asked Travis through his deep panting.

I don't know, Travis replied, gasping to catch his breath. He could still be back there!

A limb fell crashing to the ground from a distant tree, and we were all up and running again. We ran for another mile and a half, stumbling and occasionally falling along the way. Finally, we outran the bear and reached the creek behind my grandparents' house where we collapsed along the bank. The house was still about one hundred yards away, but we began to feel safe on family land.

We were all laughing and congratulating each other on outrunning the bear. But as our laughter began to subside and the sun was almost set, Travis suddenly sat up with his head jerking this way and that. Did you hear that? he exclaimed with the same urgency we heard in his voice when he told us about the bear. We all rose to our knees once again as we waited for Travis to tell us what he thought he heard.

What now? Dick's twin brother, Rick, asked, fearing the bear had caught up to us.

Travis held up a hand with the palm facing Rick. He paused with a look on his face like that of a wise old pioneer staring off at the hills that surrounded our town. Then jumping to his feet with fists balled up and arms held tight down against his sides, he cried, Wolves!

Fear caused adrenalin to surge through all of us once again. We got nervously to our feet and stood shoulder to shoulder in a row beside Travis. Then Dick said, I don't hear anything, with an obvious quiver to his voice. We suddenly felt the need for fight or flight, well, mostly just flight!

This time, it was Dick's turn to gain the reproachful stare and shh from Travis. Listen! Travis said with a stern whisper. We all strained but heard nothing except the soft babbling of the water in the creek beside us. We could only see shadows tinted by gold on the surrounding hillsides in the low light of the setting sun. A breeze ruffled our hair as we stood like four Easter Island statues staring up at Round Mountain rising high above our town.

Then finally after a moment or two, we heard it. Sure enough, there was the sound of a faint, distant howl coming from the east in the direction we had run from the bear.

I think I hear it, I whispered struggling to get past the growing lump in my throat.

Me too! said Rick with obvious fear in his eyes. Then we heard another howl accompanied by several yips and yipes! More howls joined in. Now at that time, there were as many reports of wolves as there were of bear in the area. But we did have coyotes. Unfortunately for our little band of brothers, we didn't know the difference between the howl of a wolf and that of a coyote.

One more howl and we were turning tail to sprint the last hundred yards to my grandparents' house. Only this time, I was at the back of the pack. Here now, here! my granddad said as we came rushing up to his house interrupting his yard work. He was raking leaves and burning them in piles as the sun was giving up the last rays of its light.

I knew I wouldn't be in any trouble with my parents since I could check in at my grandparents before the streetlights came on. I would just have to call my parents to let them know I'd be home soon.

What's going on with you, Peckerwoods? Granddad asked using the term he would call people who acted foolishly.

Wolves are after us! I cried out with my last breath before collapsing to my knees.

Yeah, and a bear too. Dick gasped out as he fell down beside me. Travis and Rick fell to their backs, lying on the ground without a word.

Wolves and bears, Granddad said, looking at us, as if trying to decide whether to tan our hides or burst out laughing. Where'd you get a fool notion there was a bear and wolves after you? Granddad asked as he went back to raking leaves. We haven't had any of those since the panthers disappeared in these parts years ago! I suppose next you'll be telling me you heard a panther scream.

That's right. There had been bear, wolves, and panthers in the area when my grandfather was a child. Granddad had some hair-raising tales of his own. These included stories about hearing panthers scream when he and his family returned from working in the fields. So, a body might be forgiven to believe bear and wolves were still around ready to eat unsuspecting young teenagers.

But we heard them! I cried in protest.

Yeah! Rick and Dick chimed in.

You heard harmless coyotes. Granddad chuckled as he couldn't contain his laughter anymore. Where'd you get the idea you heard a bear?

We all looked over at Travis who was now grinning from ear to ear. What a bunch of dummies! he said, laughing at us. Travis knew all along there were no bears but took morbid joy at scaring the daylights out of us.

However, his joy soon turned to regret as the twins jumped on him and began punching and pounding. Though I wanted to, I couldn't join in while my granddad was standing there with his hand on my shoulder.

Here now! Stop all that! he said with a stern voice as he grabbed both Rick and Dick by the backs of their shirts and lifted them off Travis. You boys need to learn to take a joke, and this yayhoo got you good. Now shake hands and be friends! We stood there for a moment with the twins and Travis wiping dirt and leaves off their faces and clothes. Then we all began to laugh before we shook hands to put it behind us as was the custom of the day.

Now you better go in and call your folks, Granddad said turning to me. The streetlights will be on soon, and they may get worried about where you've been.

Sure thing, Granddad, I said smiling as I ran into the house to use their phone. As I thought about it, those sure were funny tricks Travis had pulled on us. I wished I could come up with stuff like that. After I hung up with my folks, the twins and Travis called their own parents to avoid getting into trouble. I had a lot of fun with these friends back then before we all lost touch and went our separate ways. I haven't heard from them in the long years since.

As a kid, there were only three animals I killed with a weapon. The first was the duck I shot with a BB gun. Then I shot a hapless black snake with a .410-gauge shotgun because I thought for sure he was a rattler. And finally, I shot an unfortunate squirrel.

I shot the black snake when we spooked each other while I was walking through the woods squirrel hunting on Round Mountain above town. I was walking quietly through the woods, staring up in the trees looking for squirrels. Suddenly, I stepped on the poor snake, and it let out a hiss as it struck at my shoe. I jumped back, pointed the .410 shotgun at the serpent, and pulled the trigger. It was only after I shot the snake that I realized my mistake. Truth is, while I might have stepped on a copperhead in those woods, it was unlikely I would have come across a rattlesnake. I had a lot of imagination back then.

The duck was the one my dad gutted and cleaned for me, and my mother cooked the following Thanksgiving. Remember, that's when I found out I didn't like duck. No, I didn't try the black snake, and the unfortunate squirrel is something I don't talk about much.

Now I guess I may have made you curious about the unfortunate squirrel I shot when I said I didn't talk about it much. So, here goes. The first time I went squirrel hunting happened long before the black snake fiasco. I went with a family friend and church youth leader named John when I was about thirteen years old. I remember following him as we walked down a frost-covered dirt road before reaching the woods. Once in the woods, I remember both of us looking up, trying to catch the motion of a squirrel running from tree to tree or its tail wiggling as it sat on a branch.

We finally came to a tree with a large squirrel nest perched high above in its branches. That's when I made my third mistake of the day. The first mistake was bringing the 12 gauge. The second mistake was accidently loading it with a slug instead of seven shot as I hurried out of the house. Of course, the third mistake was pulling the trigger. John pointed out a squirrel I should shoot. We both went through a lot of emotions after I pulled the trigger, hitting my mark. We didn't find much that remained of that poor squirrel, at least nothing you could eat. This may be the reason I don't really enjoy squirrel hunting to this day.

When my friends and I got old enough to drive, five or six of us began to take trips out to a friend's parents' cabin where we would spend the night. We had great intentions of getting up the next day to hunt deer. If I close my eyes, I can still smell the smoke of the fire in the fireplace and hear us all joking about each other's hunting skills or mostly the lack thereof. While the days were still warm, the nights would get chilly, causing us to take turns getting up in the night to stoke the fire with a few more logs.

The trip usually ended with us staying up way too late. We would get up in the morning and make eggs, bacon, and biscuits. Then we would wash it all down with hot coffee. Finally, we would go out around noon to see if any deer were outside just waiting for us to shoot them. Inevitably, the deer would fail to show up because we were too noisy. Or they were most likely bedded down by the time we would head out hunting. After a while of not seeing deer, we would get bored. That's when we would find the usual suspects to shoot at, including trees, cans, and, I'm ashamed to say, street signs.

Many of us might have felt overwhelmed when we began our hunting careers if we didn't have a mentor. Somebody needed to show us the ropes. Without instruction, we stumbled through the woods, disappointed that we didn't see any game. We might eventually see an animal we were after. However, we didn't know how to take a stealthy shot. In the end, we would get busted by the animal as it ran off, leaving us wondering what we did wrong.

Some of us may have been successful on our first hunting trip because a friend put us in a great place. It seemed too easy, so we get bored and didn't see the allure of hunting. We didn't go back, or we waited years and maybe decades before we went again. But maybe one day, a friend or relative spiked our interest once again, and we got back into hunting. However, this time, we were not just taken to a place and told to shoot game. We were taught all the things we needed to do to be successful.

Those friends most likely supervised us as we went out to the woods. We found a good location. We chose a tree based on the sign in the area. Our mentors approved or disapproved of our choices. We finally saw the reasons a true sportsman goes out to the woods in the first place. Being out in nature and becoming part of it, we saw and heard things we never noticed before.

We may start our Christian walk just like the disjointed stories from my youth. Maybe a fellow Christian shared the Word of God with us. Perhaps they gave us a Bible and told us to start reading in Genesis or the book of Luke. That individual may have been new in their attempts to tell us about God. It might have been overwhelming for them as they felt inadequate providing much detail about salvation. So, they ended up handing us a Bible and told us to just go read it. Maybe that person went on to encourage somebody else, leaving us standing there with a Bible and no understanding of its importance. The Bible is a large book. Sometimes the stories just seemed boring or too hard to understand. The stories appeared to have no life context that matched with our own. Without the Spirit of God living in us to provide us with understanding, we have difficulty putting all the pieces together. It may take loving parents, other family members, old or new friends, or a complete stranger to say something about a scripture or story in the Bible for the Word of God to begin to sink in and take hold.

Without further instruction, we stumble through the pages, hoping to make sense of words such as thee, thou, therefore, etc., if we are reading the King James Version. That version also adds th to the ends of many words. Many people lose interest in reading the Bible since most of us no longer talk like that.

As our interest and success in the outdoors grows, we go beyond the instruction of friends or family and pick up books or magazines that contain words of wisdom that can help hone the skills necessary to bring home that first deer. Similarly, as a new Christian, we get excited about living our lives with God and fellowshipping with others who love Him.

We want to learn more and more from our fellow believers. But there is only so much a family member, Sunday school teacher and preacher can do to help us understand the great depths of who God is. We need to learn what He means to us and what we mean to Him. So, we read the actual Word of God and receive instructions necessary to live a life pleasing to Him and beneficial to our souls. There are also books we can pick up that will help us with difficult parts of Scripture.

But not all the books say the same thing. Many of them just add to the confusion. As we mature in our faith, we begin to see which books actually reflect what is in the Bible and which ones misinterpret or misrepresent God's Word. Misleading books are written by people who did not write according to the Spirit of God. Sometimes these writings can have disastrous consequences, resulting in more confusion rather than answering earnest questions regarding God, His nature, and His plan for our salvation.

Discernment gets easier the more we read our Bibles and pray for understanding. Also, as my friend Tim used to say, Iron sharpens iron. Talking with others about what you read in God's Word will shed light on what is said in the Bible. Defending something you just said out loud in front of a men's prayer group lets you see if it is wisdom or foolishness as you put it under the microscope of scripture.

In Romans 10:17 (NASB), we read, So faith comes from hearing, and hearing by the word of Christ. We hear God's words and begin to put together the story of the greatness of His being as seen when He created all things, including us. He is the great I Am. Without Him, nothing was, is, or is to come.

We read about God's demonstration of love when He sent His Son as a sacrifice to pay the price for all sin brought into the world when mankind fell from grace. Christ's story continues with the wonder and miracle of His resurrection from the grave. Then with the power only God possesses, He demonstrates forgiveness and grace by offering us the opportunity to become His children.

We only need to accept God's authority as Creator and Ruler over all creation, confessing that we are fallen from His grace, living in sin in a world of sin. We must accept and believe that as our God and Father, He loved us so much that He sent His Son to die as a sacrifice for us. However, Jesus did not just die for us. God's only begotten Son was also beaten for our transgressions before He was led to die on the cross as the ultimate sacrifice for our sins.

Thankfully, the story did not end there. Christ went on to conquer death when He arose from the grave in three days and now sits at the right hand of God. But Christ did not leave us alone when He arose! He sent the Holy Spirit to comfort and dwell in us to help us grow and become more like Him.

Yes, every story has a beginning. If you are a hunter, maybe you can see yourself in some of these stories. If not, try to remember how it was when you first began hunting. If you are a Christian, I encourage you to continue your walk with God. Both of these life events have many tales to be experienced and told as God takes you on your journey through life!

Chapter 2

Run Rick, Run!

Teach me, O Lord, the way of thy statutes; and I shall keep it unto the end. Give me understanding, and I shall keep thy law; yea, I shall observe it with my whole heart. Make me to go in the path of thy commandments; for therein do I delight. Incline my heart unto thy testimonies, and not to covetousness. Turn away mine eyes from beholding vanity; and quicken thou me in thy way. Stablish thy word unto thy servant, who is devoted to thy fear. Turn away my reproach which I fear: for thy judgments are good. Behold, I have longed after thy precepts: quicken me in thy righteousness.

—Psalm 119:33–40 (KJV)

Acceptance of Christ as our Savior is only the beginning. As with anything we do in life, we go on to gain wisdom from God through our walk with Him as a loving Father. We experience lessons only He can teach us at a personal, individual level tailored for the purpose He has for each of His children. These lessons may be painful or joyful. However, they will all be memorable as they add to the skill levels we each have when facing the world and all that is in it.

I was fortunate enough to grow up in a home where I had a father who taught me many things on the way to becoming an adult. Dad taught his children to love the Lord, pray, and read His Word. I even had my dad as a Sunday school teacher as I was growing up.

Dad taught his children to love the outdoors as he and Mom would take us out on long drives through the country and walks in the woods. During the summer months, there was nothing better in the world than spend a day with them swimming at the lake. This was followed by a trip to Dairy Queen to cool us down after all the time spent in the sun.

My late father taught me early lessons about hunting. He used to talk about how he and his brothers would hunt deer in his youth. My late mother told me that dad used to get excited as deer season approached. He and his brothers and friends would all take off from school on opening day of hunting season and head to the woods. Dad and his family were so serious about hunting they only took one bullet each with them. They strongly believed it was a one shot, one kill thing. This may also be due, in part, to the times in which my father grew up. Being born in the 1930's meant he lived his younger years while a World War took place. Rationing caused things to be tight for all aspects of life. But Dad's family also felt that you should know your weapon and your skills. If you didn't practice enough to be sure you could ethically take a deer with one shot, you shouldn't be in the woods.

Sadly, my father's enthusiasm for hunting diminished long before he met my mother. One of his older brothers was shot and killed in a hunting accident. He didn't talk about it much, and I never asked questions. I got most of the story from my mother. Due to the painful situation, that story will remain untold except among immediate family.

I only remember Dad taking me hunting once. I think I was about fourteen or fifteen years old. Those ages stick in my mind because I also ran high and low hurdles for our high school track team around that same time. That will factor into the story later.

My father got me up early that cold November morning. I remember the frost on the grass and my breath hanging in the air. That day, Dad took the single shot 12-gauge shotgun. I took my single-shot, lever action breakdown Ithaca .410 shotgun out to the driveway and placed it in Dad's station wagon. Then off we went to the woods out near Wilburn, Arkansas.

Back then, my dad taught me deer stalking which meant I followed him to where he thought we might find some deer. We walked the edges of fields, keeping close to the trees and brush looking for deer trails and a place where we could set up an ambush.

As the sun got higher, the sky got brighter, and the temperature began to slightly go up. With the rising sun, birds of various types began singing. The trees exploded with vibrant colors including red, yellow, orange, brown, and various shades of green. Earthy smells filled my nostrils. The scent of evergreens made me take long, deep breaths that I enjoyed as I slowly inhaled. As I exhaled, white mist formed and curled about my face and head in the cold November air.

My excitement and expectation stayed high throughout the morning. However, my attention to my surroundings was lower than it should have been. Suddenly, I felt my father's hand on my arm and heard him say in a soft, urgent voice, Deer! I looked up just in time to see several does go on full alert with ears and eyes fixed squarely on the two of us. It was a small herd of four or five doe.

As time and I, stood still, I hesitated way too long to bring up my gun. My father's next words broke me