The day began just as most Sundays do around our house. I woke with the dawn to open up the chicken coop while everyone else slept in a bit longer. It was a cold November morning and there was a thin sheet of ice on the lid of the garbage can I use to hold the cracked corn we feed the chickens. I felt good this morning and I enjoyed watching our growing flock of 32 birds as they each aroused in turn and made their appearance from the coop. Some hens jumped out immediately and went for those golden specks of grain that they so enjoy, while the roosters chased them around and did everything in their power to make them temporarily forget about their breakfast.
When my fingers and toes began to feel numb from the cold I headed to the house. Sometimes I nod off back to sleep in my recliner at this point, but I am always more pleased when I spend some time in God’s Word. I was blessed with about an hour of quiet prayer and Bible reading before my growing family of blessings began to arouse from their warm beds. Things tend to begin moving pretty quickly on Sunday mornings after everyone gets going; breakfasts, showers, baths, find matching socks, “where’s my shoes”, get the diaper bag together and Timothy ready, move the car that is blocking the van, warm up the van, and off to church.
We had a nice worship service and a nice long visit afterwards with the folks who lingered. It was almost 2:00 by the time we got home so our Sunday dinner wasn’t finished until about 3:30. It was time to feed the pigs and it had become a pretty nice afternoon. Matthew and I had a thought about this being the last weekend for modern gun deer season. Maybe we would take our guns with us to the barn and then keep on going up the mountain after chores? Would there be any use to try one more time?
Personally, I did not grow up hunting and my only hunting knowledge comes from books and videos. The last few years the idea of deer hunting has really grown on me and I have tried unsuccessfully several times. I never had a “real” rifle before; just a muzzle-loader and a .410 shotgun shooting a rifled slug. I had seen deer, and even fired at them once, but to no avail.
I set out several months ago determining that this year was going to be different! For one thing, we now know how to dress a deer and fix it all up for the freezer. Previous years we would have had to call for help, but we successfully butchered a deer last month that we traded a feeder pig for. This year we would also have better tools to dispatch a deer with. I had traded some goats for a nice Marlin 30-30 rifle, which is a good deer rifle for our kind of terrain and brush. My other ace in the hole was that Matthew was now more interested in getting a deer and he knows how to shoot!
So we expected to get a deer the first morning of modern gun season last Saturday. And we expected it that evening. And again the next evening. As well as several more times through the week. I’m not sure how many times we went up in our hollow between the two of us. Sometimes I went by myself, and sometimes Matthew went by himself, and a few times we were both in the mountains at the same time, but at separate locations. With our expectations so high, each successive unfruitful outing felt like a sledge-hammer blow to our hopeful, but fragile, dream of shooting our first deer.
I saw two deer at the clearing one night, but it was too dark to see them except for their white tails bounding along the trail. I also startled a deer behind the school house one evening as I was heading to feed the chickens down in the ravine. Matthew saw three deer one evening and one was a nice sized buck, but he wasn’t able to get a shot off at them. One morning he did get a shot off at one and drew blood, but it ran up the mountain. Matt tracked it up the mountain all the way to the top of the ridge and from there he could see the deer going up and over the next ridge. We had started to wonder if that would be the closest thing to bagging our first deer either one of us would get this year.
Going up in the hollow to hunt one more time this particular ordinary Sunday afternoon was almost an after-thought. Our hopes had been all but shattered by this time. Still, it would be an enjoyable way to spend the last hours of daylight on this nice Sunday evening, I thought. One thing I’ve re-learned this week is that it is easy to feel close to God sitting in the peaceful woods, still and quiet, listening to a multitude of forest sounds as unseen birds and small woodland creatures scurry and scamper through the crisp, crunchy fallen leaves. The darkening scarlet sky and the setting sun which changes the colors and shadows of the forest hues points toward a Master artist! A cool gentle breeze in my face whispers to me that God is real; He is here. Experiencing God’s nature allows one to recognize the beauty and majesty of God’s creation. Not getting the hoped for deer was disappointing, but spending these hours in the woods this week have not been wasted.
Still and quiet I sat under a half-fallen pine tree waiting and watching for the elusive deer to move into my view. I must admit that I had dozed off to sleep in this peaceful wonderland that I call home on this early Sunday evening. My ill-timed slumber was shattered with the crack of a gunshot not more than 150 yards further up the hollow where Matthew was staked out!
As I arrived past the clearing on the fern trail, this was the scene:
He had pulled off an expert shot from the hill above the clearing to the hill on the other side of the gully leading to the fern trail. The deer had stumbled down the hill and fallen near the creek. Since it was trying to get up Matthew decided to put one more bullet through the neck to be sure that it would not run off like the deer a week earlier had done.
We used his 4-wheeler and a rope to pull the carcass up to the level fern trail. We loaded it on the back of the 4-wheeler and then joyfully transported it down to the house to gut and hang.
We were primarily interested in the meat this animal would provide for our family, but the fact that it was a trophy buck was an extra blessing! It was a 9 point with the inside rack measuring 12 3/4 inches!
Hanging the carcass on the swingset and going through the gutting process was a memorable family experience:
Admiring his work:
The triumphant hunter, Mathew the Mighty, with our 9 point buck hanging to cool:
Needless to say, we are very proud of Matthew and of this accomplishment. I am pleased that he recorded our first deer kill at Pure Water Hollow. I’m sure there will be many more to come in the future.
Both Simon and Christina are waiting in the wings for the year when they will have a chance to bring in some venison for the family table, and one of these days I’m sure I will get one, too. We will give God the glory for providing both the wild game as well as the domestic animals for our sustinance and well-being. It all comes from Him, and I am thankful that He is allowing us to benefit from such abundant blessings!
Every day we are thankful for so many things at Pure Water Hollow Homestead, but this past week I was especially thankful for the hunt!
God bless, and may everyone have a blessed Thanksgiving Holiday this week!
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3 comments
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jrejhkids on November 24, 2009 at 11:09 am
I enjoyed reading your entry. I can picture some of the area now as I have been back to Kentucky. I took my son back to Berea for college in August.
He has also seen different areas of Kentucky and sent us pictures. He went to Stinking Creek for a field trip. The pictures he sent are beautiful.
It is wonderful how God provides more than we need. I love seeing the beauty of God's handiwork.
Have a great week with your family.
~jrejhkids
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Purewater on November 24, 2009 at 12:22 pm
Hey jrejhkids – Good hearing from you again.
If it was the Stinking Creek in Knox County, that was the country my father-in-law was born and raised.
Small world!
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Schatzi on November 24, 2009 at 3:03 pm
Wow, now that is excitement around your place…say congratulations to your son..and next time it WILL be you!!!
Have a blessed Thanksgiving.
Connie
