A Not-so-Graceful Hunt

As the sun broke in orange and purple hues over the horizon of the open-sky country in which I grew up, my heart stirred with excitement. Today would be the day that I was sure to kill my very first deer. I am in my thirties and have never in all my life taken a game animal from the field barring land fowl. For some reason my dad never took me with him and my brother became the avid hunter while I pursued other interests, not the least of which was making a general wreck of my life. I missed out on a decade of relations with my family because of the enemy's foothold. Oh, but the joy of restoration has been sweet and I am covered by the white robe of Christ. I love guns and enjoy hunting, I guess I just never made them a priority. Today both guns and hunting are more important to me than ever, and this for reasons that surpass hobby or obsession. My passions are God and family and ministry....yes, in that order. What concerns me today is the severe decline of importance of these things in our culture and the consequent symptoms of centralized government, unjust war, militarization of police, dependency on the state for provision, and loss of freedoms previously viewed as inherent. These thoughts and more ran through my mind as I watched the sun rise. I remarked at the Lord's handi-work to my wife, and my brother took the opportunity to throw open the thin curtain and exclaim that the sun came up every morning and promptly inquired if we had seen it before. He is not only an early riser but a continuous joker.
We finished breakfast and small talk. Our wives were off to church while Ben and I secured weapons, ammo, licenses and headed out at around 8am on this very still October morning. I had made an effort to consecrate Saturday to the Lord with prayer, Bible reading, and worship knowing that I would miss Sunday morning services for this hunt. My communion with the Lord during the previous week had brought a peace to me that it was well I go hunting with my brother on a Sunday. I was determined to give the hunting experience entirely into God's hands and trust that He would be glorified.

"Whether, then, you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God"
1 Corinthians 10:31

The place we chose to hunt was entirely Ben's decision. His knowledge of the area and past experiences with sure hunts had my blood pumping. I would love to tell you where, but then I would have to kill you. Of course, that would prove difficult in all the tracking you down and wasting time on the Internet. So let's suffice it to say that it was in Idaho. All kidding aside, I am very thankful for my younger brother and his unwavering passion for the hunt and all things related. He has many kills of deer and elk and is sharp-shooter material. It is always a joy and pleasure to spend time with him shooting our guns. I was so glad to be heading out with him on the opening day of deer season and had high hopes for our success. Ben had plans to take his horses to another spot for an extended deer hunt and is in fact there as I write this, so this was strictly my hunt even though he carried his rife. I was carrying my dad's .243 rifle and Ben had our great-granddad's 30.06. As we got out of the pickup I slung the gun over my head with the strap across my chest. Ben thought he heard rocks falling and looked around for the source of the sound. Nothing. I hadn't even got my door shut when immediately, my brother said, "There he is. Shoot him. Kill him Dan." He said it matter-of-factly and with little emotion. We were looking up at a canyon face and just at the rim there was a nice 1x4 buck looking down at us. He was quite a picture in the crisp morning light contrasted with the darker shadows created by the high canyon walls below him. I had a clear shot although he was about 200 yards away. I moved to rest on the window sill of the truck door. Too late, before I got a shot off, he leisurely mosied along the rim for a few steps only to vanish from our sight. I was only slightly put out by my decision not to shoot, as I knew if I had missed we would have slim chances to get one as the shot caused them to bolt out through the prairies of the plain above the canyon and beyond. Now we had a hunt ahead of us with a proven target and a real opportunity to place ourselves between the buck and his freedom. I prayed for readiness. A craggy gorge broke up through the canyon wall eventually ramping up in a gentle slope to the plain above. All we had to do was walk it and make our way as far into the plain as necessary, circling back around on top moving towards the canyon rim, hopefully trapping him against the sheer drop.

As Ben and I walked we whispered and moved though the brush as silently and slowly as possible. When we were over half way into the gorge we decided to scale an easy escarpment up onto the open ground. As we took a break at the top of the canyon we quietly remarked on the zero wind factor and the surprising warmth for October. We got up to move and further on, as we approached closer to the rim, there was a slight depression in the plain that prevented us from seeing on the other side. We moved more slowly, but it was to no avail as we were spotted by a doe and her fawn before we saw them. We froze and lowered ourselves onto our haunches. Soon enough the mother deer shot her head up above the knoll so she could get a better view. She promptly disappeared and before Ben could finish telling me that she was circling around our flank, there she was. She watched and considered us for some time obviously upset that she was unable to perceive our scent. She decided she had seen enough and began to bound away with her fawn eventually heeding the doe's lead. We continued on. As we got closer to the canyon rim the ground sank down and rocks sprouted up around us in clumps and whole crags. Just as we came to the table top of a formation of rock, Ben exclaimed that the buck was coming up on the other side. By that time the buck had seen us and was slowly bounding away at about 60 yards. I took my shot and missed. I took a second shot following through with his pace across my scope hitting him in the leg. He careened wildly in circles with his now useless leg making rotations in ways that it shouldn't. While I watched him through my scope my brother shouted out to shoot him, however I wanted to keep from damaging any meat and thought he may go down. Now here is where my obvious inexperience is displayed. I still cannot believe that in all my years in Idaho and knowing the men I've known I have never been in a position to kill a deer. There have been endless varmint and bird hunting, but never a true big game hunt. My adrenaline surged and all I could think of was how successful the hunt had been.....only I was in the middle of taking the shot. Yeah, that's buck fever and it had more of an effect on me than I had thought it would, plus I was out of practice with the rifle. This, all coupled with shortness of breath contributed to a misplaced shot. I also neglected to remember that damaging a little meat with a bullet was far preferable to the deer running hard in fear for who knows how long and thereby causing adrenaline to rankin the meat. As the deer turned for the canyon wall where the small gorge was I took a final shot which landed well behind the fleeing animal.

Now I looked at my brother and wondered how far we would have to search. He had not followed through with a kill shot to help me because he knew it was my first deer and wanted me to bring it down alone. We ran to the cliff edge and Ben again said he thought he heard a distant rustle of rock. When we reached the edge we remained motionless, scanning the area for any sign...sound, dust, a flicker of horn or hair...nothing...nothing but silence. We waited holding our breaths. If we couldn't find it that would mean a grueling search in country that barely betrays mark or track worth counting on. The deer was wounded and needed finding as soon as we could. We looked around seeing no sign, eventually settling on the fact that the deer had doubled back where he was unseen and headed out across the plain to take cover. We went that way and never found a thing. We searched a vast area of desert and then made our way back to the sight of the initial struggle, actually finding the exact spot that the deer took the bullet. Tendon, hair, and blood were spattered on a rock and one single drop of blood trailed away toward the canyon. The track disappeared but we went back to the place that we lost sight of him and then followed the gorge rim out into the desert. The sun beat down upon the back of my black sweater and I thought of what the deer must be going through. A rattlesnake sunned himself on a rock as I passed by and did me no favor of warning me. I saw him sitting there and stopped, thinking he was a sure sign that the panicked deer had not come through here. I moved toward him and now he wanted to shake his rattle. Oh well, better left alone. Hoping for the best,we moved on and made our way to the furthest end of where the gorge started down into the canyon from the open grasslands.

Ben commented that he should have taken the kill shot for me. I told him not to worry about it, it was an easy shot and I should have had the kill immediately. I knew we were both thinking about the wounded deer and the wastefulness of never finding him. I started to ask God what it was that He wanted me to know from the loss of a shot deer. My mind actually wandered toward thoughts of the great evils we see around us in this 'ol world. I started thinking about this blog post that I wanted to write and I thought of how I would speak of the sanctity of life and how the holocaust of unborn children should matter more to us than the sufferings of a buck deer, but doesn't. All things come from God, evil is not a thing. It is a corruption of that which God has made and He always uses it to the glory of His own plan. Of course, I would say that the Father in heaven takes care of the beasts of the field and I thought of the fine meal that would await starving coyotes. In fact, as we rested part way through the canyon I confessed to Ben that I was feeling more destructive than productive. I said that I hoped to find the deer but that I was asking God how losing the deer glorified him. My brother said that a pack of starving coyote pups just might get a choice meal from God. We smiled and moved on.

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? 26 Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? 27 And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? [7] 28 And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, 29 yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. 30 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? 31 Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. 33 But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.

34 “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.
Matthew 6:25-34


As we passed many overhangs and brushy outcroppings that seemed good cover for a buck in distress yet hid no buck, we began to wonder if we ever would find him. Then, as we stepped up high on a point of the trail, there he was. He was laying down behind a rock with only his head popping up and his right eye straining to see back behind himself at our sound. I was so relieved to see him. I lifted the gun to my shoulder for a shot to his neck. The shot thundered around us off the steep canyon walls and he slumped down. When we got to him he was taking ragged breaths, and Ben ended his life with a sharp knife to his throat. The hunt took all of 3 hours and God had provided.

I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert.
The wild beasts will honor me,the jackals and the ostriches,
for I give water in the wilderness,rivers in the desert,
to give drink to my chosen people,
Isaiah 43:19b-20

At that point I went to my knees and thanked the Creator of the universe for answering my prayers and the gift of the mule deer. I acknowledged His sovereignty over the bullets and over the animal. I took joy in His free grace over my brother and I and in His bountiful provision of such a fine harvest of meat. What a specimen the animal was, the biggest we could take from the area eventually weighing in at 130 lbs. of skinned animal. We dragged the deer back to the truck and it was a true physical effort to do so, however my brother remarked quite sharply, "Remember this one. This is the easiest it will ever get."