A Sense of Timing

I write, but very few read the translation.  I play music, but only a handful dance.  I talk, but only a couple can hear.  So I question what good it is to write, play and talk when the world is full of so much information it is a virtual data overload.  Where and what we choose are our priorities determines what we choose to read, watch and listen too.  Thank you for taking the time to visit this blog post.

I too read, watch and listen….and it is the listening and the watching that inspires me the most.  Written words are often hollow and meanings can be lost in interpretation.  But when you see and hear something in a special moment in time…it has special meaning and is not as soon forgotten as black ink on white paper.  I hope to share just a couple examples of special moments with you in this post.

We have six common senses.  What… you say I only know of touch, see, hear, smell and taste; the five common senses of a whole body.  When one is compromised, others take over in efforts to fully understand our surroundings.  When it is dark, we rely on our ears to hear the trouble that may wait in the darkness.  Before we taste we often smell for assurance.  But what sense do you rely on when all of them have been compromised?

Forget about reading you cannot see, forget about listening you cannot hear, your tongue and nose have lost their senses and your hands are numb so no feelings do you gather.  Like an amoeba you drift at the mercy of your surroundings, unable to steer your own way you drift on the tides of life, a gelatos mass of molecular light searching, but seldom finding.  Such is the way of the spirits, adrift with no senses as we know them, but they have other ways to interpret their surroundings.

There are other senses that can help in your journey; senses that take years for most people to explore and find, whereas some others seem to connect to them at an early age.

Here are two I am familiar with and are easy to describe.  I have seen others connect to them and I have been blessed to share in that connection on several occasions.  Some may discount these senses as mere fantasy; these are people that have yet to connect fully with their five given senses.  You will never know the sixth and seventh senses, until you cherish and use the five that were given you at birth.

I feel there are even more than seven senses, kind of depends on your definition of “sense”…let me elaborate:  The dictionary defines it as “a faculty by which the body perceives an external stimulus.”

1 thru 5 you know about….the sixth sense you’ve heard and know about.  It is your instincts, your memories and your totality as a person that influences some of your decisions…it’s that gut feeling.  Ever had it, I’m sure you have.  Did you follow it?  If you’re like me… if I did, things worked out OK, if I didn’t, well not so much.  Your sixth sense is learned over time through your experiences and your ability to remember them, even if subconsciously, to guide you into making good decisions.

The seventh sense is the ability to capitalize on being in the moment, or right place at the right time.  For lack of a better term I’ll call it….a sense of timing.  Let me explain…ever heard of an athlete being in the zone?  Where almost any move he or she makes, no matter what shot is taken, or pass thrown there’s a connection, a made shot and a completed pass.  We’ve seen it in Michael Jordan and Brett Favre. 

I distinctly remember Jordan had a touch of the flu that night…and well Brett…his father had just passed on.  The timing displayed those nights can be described in athletic terms as magical, one in a million and a prime example of how our mind can be utilized to connect in perfect timing…you could say in anticipation of not only the opponent, but your teammates as well.  With your teammates you practice, but when you have a step on your opponent it is that crucial sense of timing that assures victory.

History is made of such moments.  Time… it is the basis of our reality, without it reason has little meaning.  Throughout my life I have heard that our ability to reason separates us from the beasts of the earth.  I must say lately I surely question the reasoning of some of our fellow humans out there…I’d rather take my chances reasoning with a dolphin, crow or chimpanzee than some of the wretched excuses for human kind that exists out there today.

People have a hard time when you try to discuss something out of the norm of our regular senses.  But think about your sense of timing…it is a sense.  Being able to anticipate the future even if for just a split second can be the difference between life and death.  Ever had a close call with death?  Think about the timing of it…one or two seconds either way….you may not be reading this.  Since you are reading this maybe it would be a good time to thank God and His angels for helping to bring you through that…after all He is the Master Time Keeper…and we all hope to have a few guardian angels clearing our paths.

There’s another sense of timing.  It is the unexpected acts that happen throughout your life on any given day at any given moment…that make you pause and say…hum that was interesting.  I spend a great deal of time on this blog talking about music and it obviously has a sense of timing to it.  When I play the harmonica I try to anticipate the next note, the next chord, even in a song I’ve never heard before.  I have had many private moments that leave me thanking God for the pleasure gifted my senses.  You can get in the zone playing music as well and like an athletic experience there’s nothing like it…it’s better than any drug induced high…because it is the natural expression of your God given abilities.

Timing, in a sense, can also come out of nowhere.  There’s an old Kansas song called “Miracles Out Of Nowhere” that I think of when little “acts” of timing happen that make you take note and pause.  Certainly not a miracle in the grand miracle scheme of things but here’s one act of timing that uplifted my senses today.  I was reading the Old Testament Book of Micah this afternoon and had my phone nearby.  The house was quiet, TV and stereo off…and as I was just starting to read Chapter 7 verse 8 my phone goes off with some sound I’ve never heard before.  I looked at the phone and it was a You Tube feed for “Amazing Grace” done on bagpipes.  I was like… what….anyway I pushed the red arrow and of course an ad came up…skipped that and a beautiful rendition of “Amazing Grace” with nature videos and bag pipes starting playing.  I continued to finish reading as Micah is only seven chapters and between the Word and the song I had tears in my eyes as my soul thanked God for His sense of timing.

I don’t know if I communicate this very well.  I hope it makes some sense to you and I hope that you have experienced 100’s of such acts of timing in your life, no matter how big or small they may be.  They are there to remind us, they are there to help us and they are there to confuse your opponents. 

So there you have it…seven senses to consider, six you knew about, the seventh…a sense of timing…  you can now reason about…all our Father God asks in return is found in...

Micah Chapter 6 verse 8.    Have a fabulous New Day.     

 

Faith's Timeline

I am a bit confused over conflicting thoughts I’ve had for years. What confuses me are the common beliefs of where we are in a history yet to be written.  Where are we in the timeline of creation, where are we in the countdown to destruction?  Questions that have been asked for over 2000 years and questions that none of us have the answers to.

But clues remain and the Word is there to teach and guide us on this journey of creation, destruction, and rebuilding.  The problem is the Words were written long ago and the meanings of the Word have existed since the beginning of time.  So we are left, mortal men and women, we are left to decipher these meanings, to use the Word to answer the questions of where we are in God’s timeline.

Throughout history generations have thought they were the last, or the first.  You see the greatest mystery is when will the Heavens be split and the White Rider, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords return to end all this madness around us.  When will the mysteries of who and what Babylon represents be answered?  Many have tried to put a date on God’s timeline…foolish men, God is the master time-keeper, with Him and only Him resides the hour glass with the sands of life and death, of creation and destruction.  Foolish to try and read God’s mind, for He already knows your intent. 

So in my confusion, I pray and ask for direction, for guidance, for truth and understanding.  I am not a sinless man and I am not an learned scholar, but I am a believer in the Lord God almighty and His Son Jesus Christ and thru all things He makes possible if only you ask and have faith…and faith has limitless patience, or it is merely a false hope.

My dreams are based on faith, not hope.  You see hope has a measure of maybe to it…maybe it will or maybe it won’t…but I hope so.  Faith does not work that way…for faith the answer is simply…it will.

Here is my faith…that this world will not perish before our eyes, but rather it will be uplifted to see all the glory you could ever imagine.  Picture your vision of Heaven…do you see it?  Picture in your mind the most perfect scenario possible for you and your loved ones and the world around you.  Can you do that?

If you can’t than you need to search yourself and ask a simple truth…do you believe, or not?  If you are a believer than picturing Heaven is not a problem, you’ve probably done it 1000’s of times.  If you struggle to picture it than I suggest you go for a quiet walk in nature, open your heart and mind and let the loving spirit show you the majesty that awaits His believers.  It will give hope to the doubter, a hope that will turn to faith as you continue your walk.  If your walk is too burdensome, sit and look around, do you see the greatness around you?  Do you see there is more to this life than money, cars, fancy houses and earthly lavishes that are a mere temptations towards a false hope.   

Enjoy the bounties of life, but don’t ever lose faith in something better no matter how good or bad your life may be.  

That is my faith, that one day there will be Heaven on Earth and throughout my life when times were bad, I held to this faith and when times were good, I knew it was only a glimpse of something better…that is my faith…a faith that I serve a loving and caring Master, that even in the devil’s domain the serpent is powerless against the faithful.  It is this domain, this ungodly and unrighteous torture chamber of pain that will be destroyed in the end…not the beauty that was created from nothing and has thrived for thousands of generations, even in some of the most wretched and tormented areas of our world.

My faith includes forgiveness, thankfulness and the undeniable fact that there is something bigger and better out there that we can not always see…but we can certainly hear and feel.  My faith includes the belief that this world will not perish, but be transformed into Heaven on Earth…my faith does not hope…my faith knows it will.

I can not begin to detail all the experiences and research that has gone into making these next comments. All I can say is that it is based on faith…a faith that has been tested but is unwavering.

To answer the question where are we in the sands of time is simple…we are right where we’re supposed to be, why question it to begin with…you can not change what has been pre-destined.  What you say, that is no answer…well it is if you ask the question to someone without the answer.  You see there is only One who knows this answer and to Him I place my faith…so don’t ask mortal men, they do not have the answer…the answer lies with and at the right hand of the Father and on the left hand is the hour glass of our world.  Like a chess match between good and evil, the darkness knows it fights a losing battle.  With all its armies it tries to shift the sands of time to their advantage, but it serves no purpose.

I am not anything but just another soul on this planet longing for answers, many of which I have found, but others remain.  But here is what my faith tells me:  If time were to stop for even three seconds, and in that three seconds every man, woman and child that has been exposed to the Word of God and the life of Christ was asked a simple question…Do you believe or not?...You have three seconds to answer…the hour glass only has four grains of sand left, so you do not have time to think…your heart, mind, body and soul will guide your spirit to this answer.  You have three seconds…do you believe?

Here is what my faith has revealed to me…those that answer no in that three seconds will perish from this earth and it won’t just be them that are gone…it will be everything that they have ever done as well.  Their history will be no more; their destiny will be of fire, for they have chosen a false and corrupt legacy.  Their soul has been so polluted that their spirit is a dark concoction of hate and distrust…of divisiveness instead of understanding and compromise.  They would rather stir the pot of misfortune than see the glory of a faith filled life.  They have put their hope in disbelief, or even worse in evil and their hope has no chance against our faith…hope is a maybe…faith is a certainty.

For those that answer yes I do believe….your faith is answered and your dreams of Heaven on Earth are a reality.  Why…read the previous paragraph…all the bad will be GONE!!!  In an instant the world will be transformed and all the good will prevail and all the bad will be vanquished.  For the faithful it will be Heaven on Earth…exactly what the closing chapters of the Word describes to us.

How you may ask is this ever going to happen.  I am a simple man with simple beliefs based of simple truths, it is this world that distracts and confuses us and makes things more complicated than they need to be.  Search yourself and ask the question…Do you think our loving Creator would destroy all He created...Never, unless we as a world lose all faith…then there are other chapters that deal with that.

Have faith that this world will one day be transformed into Heaven on Earth….and it will be so.

Revelations Chapters 21-22  

Our Faith is more than hope, Our Faith is the timeless reality of God’s Word.

Kenny's Revenge

The following is a hunting story...or two.  It is a rather long read compared to my usual posts, but it is a story that for those that know it already I promised I would post.  With hunting season approaching I thought now was a good time to remember my friend Kenny and some of the memories we share.

Kenny's Revenge

I had never had a fried bologna sandwich before.  And I’ll be damned if it wasn’t pretty good, especially with a swash of mustard.  Kenny loved mustard, but not as much as he loved his chickens.  He’d spend time every day tending to them; hours somedays just talking, watching, protecting.

But above fried bologna sandwiches and chickens Kenny loved to hunt.  That’s how we met. He was wearing a camo T-shirt, with a little mustard stain, while I cut his plywood at the store.  I have an inquisitive nature and couldn’t help but ask, being new to the area…”Do you hunt sir?” and from there our conversation started.  A conversation that I admit started from the selfish desire on my part to hunt.  “Why yes I do” and from there our bond started.  A bond formed between two hunters; one almost old enough to be the others father.

But that didn’t matter.  You see Kenny had desires too.  His current hunting partner, Alec, was a big rig driver and was over the road a lot.  Kenny was pushing seventy then, may have already been. So although he enjoyed the solitude of nature, he also was a careful hunter and knew his limits.  I guess I was just in the right place at the right time to be offered an invite to hunt their tract in Fort Mill.  I was so excited.  I had found someone to hunt with that had access to forty acres with four stands in the air, each with its own gravity feeder, and it was only forty minutes or so away. It had been too long since I wore hunting camo and tested my stealth, skill and nerve against one of nature’s more plentiful but elusive creatures, and if cooked right, was pretty tasty.

Just as cool was that Kenny lived five minutes from the store, his partner Nancy had several acres there that allowed us to sight in our guns before the hunt.  Kenny tended to pull to the right so he often had me shoot his black powder or rifled slug gun.  He explained he was always like that when shooting paper, but when a live target was in the sights instead of being nervous, his Army training took over and steadied his aim.

I visited Nancy and him that first week as hunting season was approaching and fell in love with his Harrington & Richardson rifled slug gun.  Shooting Hornady 300 grain SST slugs at 2000 feet per second it packs a heck of a punch…more than many standard rifles.  I had to have one for the upcoming season and I found a used one for sale that has a beautiful in laid grain pattern.  Coupled with a Nikon ProStaff scope its accuracy and knock down power would pay off when counted upon.

The hunting tract is in Mecklenburg County, North Carolina…just inside the South Carolina border.  Regulations require only black powder or shotgun can be used, no standard rifles at any time.  The property has a seventy five yard wide high power tension line running through it, which made for an excellent transition from field to forest where deer often travel.  Kenny’s stand was a four legged tri pod, skirted and with a camo roof on the edge of the forest.  It was well positioned at the far end of the property overlooking a gravity feeder across the tension line.  The stand that I usually hunted from was at the front end of the property on the opposite side of the tension line.  Its feeder was about thirty-five yards to the left as you sat in a traditional ladder stand with several game trails around.  On quiet windless mornings when the temperature was just right you could hear the electricity crackling thru the thick wires high above that were connected by towers of steel where buzzards and the occasional lone hawk would perch for a better view.  But electricity was not the sound I was listening for.

For those that have ever deer hunted before in an area full of squirrels you can relate to the frustration the pesky little varmints cause running and jumping from tree to tree.  Silence is a hunter’s best friend and squirrels do their best to disrupt the silence of the woods and the hunter’s concentration as he tries to pick out the steady pace of a deer, rather than the sporadic adventures of a squirrel.

Kenny and I hunted together for the past six years.  Every year except one we put meat in the freezer.  They were usually smaller bucks or large older does.  But we occasionally saw sign of something bigger in the area.  In our fourth year Kenny saw a big eight point during black powder season.  It was by the stand I usually hunted, but that morning I was in one of the stands set back in the woods.  He took the long shot and missed as the 260 grain bullet dropped more than expected.  But he’d see that deer again.

Two years ago at the beginning of gun season we got in our stands well before daylight.  I decided to hunt an enclosed stand back in the woods with a highly traveled game trail just down and opposite of Kenny’s stand.  It was pitch black in the calm of the early pre-dawn.  It was quiet, so quiet because the forest animals had yet to scramble from their homes.  It was probably ten minutes or so before first light when I heard something.  Something was awake and it was big and on a steady pace.  I strained my eyes and got my H&R at the ready.  Whatever it was it passed about fifteen yards the other side of my feeder that was thirty yards out and I never did see it.  My heart was pounding and my breaths were shallow as I sat motionless hoping it would return.  For ten minutes or so I waited as dark turned to light…then I heard the shot.

The deer had come out on the edge of the field, turned left and made a bee line for Kenny’s feeder.  He couldn’t get a clear shot because of the darkness.  A few minutes passed and the deer turned to head back the way it came but by now it was just light enough for Kenny to squeeze off a shot and drop a beautiful 155 pound typical eight point buck.  Neither of us thought there was a deer like this in the area anymore as development was encroaching on the hunting tract.  But then we remembered the eight point he saw the previous year and realized this was probably the same deer.  He was so excited and I was so glad one of us got a shot at what we thought was surely the biggest deer in the area, but we were wrong.    

This is a picture of Kenny with his 8 point.

I have been hunting on and off for thirty-six years and I can honestly say that the memories of this past years experiences will never be forgotten…there is no way to forget two first time life experiences in the same month.  Black powder season starts in October here.  So as usual Kenny and I sighted our guns and loaded the feeders in anticipation of the first hunt of the fresh season.  Alec and Kenny had bush hogged the field a month or so earlier, so the sight lines were perfect. 

Alec was on the road so it was just Kenny and I that first day of black powder season.  It was a crisp fall morning as we walked towards his stand in the darkness.  It wasn’t a long walk, maybe 300 yards or so to Kenny’s stand and as usual he was a bit out of breath but got settled in and I walked to my stand.  That morning I decided to hunt the open ladder stand at the front part of the property.  It is across the field from Kenny’s stand and about 200 yards up from his.  We can see each other’s stands and it makes for an awesome set up.  Kenny’s stand is wrapped with fabric so you can only see thru a six inch area that wraps around the stand at eye level as you sit in a plastic folding and bolted down chair.

Kenny liked to use a grunt call to attract dominant bucks or inquisitive does.  I heard him use the call about every ten minutes or so from first light until about 8:30 AM.  That’s when a small buck came in through the woods behind me.  I never did get a clean shot so he soon disappeared from my view.  About 2o minutes later, just before 9AM I heard something coming thru the woods that sounded awful familiar.  It was no squirrel; it was the steady pace of a heavy deer, one that I only caught a glimpse of its hind quarters as it headed towards Kenny’s stand but back in the woods on my side of the field.  I motioned for Kenny to keep an eye out several times as I thought whatever it was might come out at his feeder.  And then all was quiet again as I waited for a shot that I never heard, unfortunately.

It was about 9:40 AM and I heard a sound like metal clanging against metal in the area of Kenny’s stand.  Confused I got my mini binoculars out and checked over his stand.  I didn’t see anything unusual, but I had a bad gut feeling.  About five minutes later I called him over silenced but vibrating phones, no answer.  We usually hunt until about 10AM…it was about 9:50 now and I couldn’t take it anymore as I just had this bad gut feeling.  I walked towards his stand expecting to see his gun being lowered…nothing.  Now I was really feeling uneasy and as I got to the base of his stand my worst fears were realized.  I could see his left hand and watch sticking out the back side of the stand.  I frantically climbed up the ladder and found him on the stands floor, crumbled in a fetal position. 

Kenny is a diabetic, so I shook and slapped him trying to get some response.  His face was a bluish pale and his tongue was barely sticking out.  I knew it was too late but I pounded on his chest and felt for any sign of life…none was found.  I felt helpless to help my friend, he laid there with his eyes closed, but he looked at peace.  A peace that I was powerless to break as I said “Kenny, Kenny, No, No” and tears clouded my eyes.  I had never been that close to death before, but I knew I had to do something.

I climbed down and ran to the house that is on the property.  The lady answered and we called 911.  They were able to triangulate the area and actually see the field and Kenny’s stand.  Soon emergency crews arrived and the three and half hour ordeal of getting Kenny down from the stand began.  It was heartbreaking watching him being lowered by a makeshift A-frame.  Kenny was no small man; I think he was around 265 pounds.  The emergency crews did a great job, treated him with respect and consoled me occasionally.  More than one of the fireman told me that he died doing what he loved and although that may be true, I’d still rather have my hunting buddy back to share stories with.

Approaching 1PM one of the officers asked me to identify his belongings as they searched his pockets and backpack.  It was at that time I asked how the next of kin was notified.  Kenny lived in Huntersville about forty minutes away and they said the local police would do it.  I asked if I could instead and they had no problem with that.  I didn’t want to tell Nancy over the phone and I didn’t want a stranger to tell her so I met the wife and we drove over to Nancy’s together.

I could tell she knew something was wrong when she answered the door and the wife and I were standing there, instead of Kenny.  I told her as gently and calmly as I could that Kenny passed away in his stand…and then I lost my composure and found myself being the comforted instead of the comforter.  We waited for family to show up and then we left.  I was in a daze and to this day can still see his face as he laid there in the peace that death brings to those comforted in the arms of the angels.  

I called Alec later that day and told him the sad news.  He was in shock too as I told him how everything unfolded.  Hunting the rest of the season was far from our minds as we remembered the times spent with our friend and hunting partner.  Kenny’s funeral was well attended and at his parents grave site.  Everyone there knew how Kenny passed, but only a few knew that I was the one with him that fateful morning.  Time heals many wounds and I was strong as the pastor gave his eulogy which included “A Hunter’s Prayer” which is something I wrote in dedication to Kenny and gave to Nancy and his daughter.  I was glad the eulogy included things about Kenny I didn’t know, including his real name, Peter.  As the small crowd dispersed I had to stay.  I wanted to be with my friend as long as I could and I wanted to play a song or two for him.  I put the first handful of dirt on his marble coffin that contained his cremated remains and sat quietly as the staffers began to fill the void in the earth that would soon envelope my friend.  I played “Amazing Grace” and hoped he heard it…I know he did.

I didn’t hunt black powder season on that tract again, but Alec and I decided to pay it a visit before gun season.  The fire department had removed the roof area of Kenny’s stand and torn all the fabric away leaving just the lower frame.  I put up two layers of camo burlap around the lower frame but the roof was beyond repair.  Still an able and functioning stand I had no doubt which stand I would hunt in the upcoming weeks.  With feeders full we waited for the opening day of gun season, a week away and inside a month from Kenny’s passing.

The night before that hunt I woke up several times during a restless night’s sleep.  I awoke early and got my gear ready as I dressed in all camo.  The wife often had early morning dreams and that morning was no different.  She was screaming in her sleep, frightened of some unknown entity.  I came in the room to wake and comfort her and asked what the nightmare was about.  She said someone was standing at the back door, knocking on the door and they were dressed in camo.  I had my thoughts but remained quiet and laid her back to rest.  A few minutes later I got my hunting boots, which were at the back door, filled my coffee cup and started my drive to the hunting tract in Fort Mill, North Carolina.

I met Alec well before first light.  He decided to hunt the stand that is back in the woods about three- hundred yards in front of Kenny’s stand.  I was in Kenny’s stand in observation of the entire field and the feeder directly across.  Alec loved to use grunt calls, bleep boxes and rattling horns to attract a dominant buck.  I preferred the quiet approach, using scent wicks in strategic areas in the hopes the wind would carry the scent to a curious buck.  So we had a perfect set-up…scent wicks around the field with feeders, grunt calls and rattling a bit off in the woods…all in the same general area. 

About 8 AM a doe came into the field.  She was small and the hunt was early so I let her mill around.  Now it was really choice…I had a live decoy in the field.  She wandered around for about a half hour, never did go to the feeder and then eventually casually bounded off into the woods.  I was getting bored so I put the H&R slug gun down and got out the phone.  About 8:40 AM as I was breaking one of the hunting Ten Commandments…Never Be Distracted…looking at Facebook… I heard a noise, or maybe it was just my peripheral vison picking up something across the field.  Whatever sense it was that caused me to pause I don’t know, but what I looked up to was a sight I will never forget.  He came out right between the feeder and a scent wick I had out on that side of the field…he was big…and he was pissed.

I don’t know if it was the scent wicks, the rattling or the grunting but something had this big boy ready to either fight or have sex.  He charged into the field and stopped half way with his ears pointed and his nose in the air.  I didn’t have time to do anything but react as I thought he would be gone any instant.

As he strode into the field I calmly put the phone down, picked up my slug gun and rested it on the frame of the stand.  He was on the opposite side of a high power tension tower to my left looking right at me, but I had a clear shot of his vitals.  I squeezed off the only shot in the barrel and his back end dropped…I knew I hit him good.  I fully expected him to run, but instead he crumpled to one side, ran in circles a bit, and lay there motionless his heart stopped…as my heart tried to pound its way out of my chest.  The first thing I did was bow my head and think of Kenny, then I said a prayer…a prayer of thanks.

Alec called about 20 minutes later…I told him it was big…just not sure how big.  After a half hour I couldn’t take it anymore…I called him and said I was getting down to check him out.  He was a monster for these parts, a typical 10 point that was the biggest deer I have ever seen with gun in hand.  He was surely a deer of a lifetime for someone with limited finances and hunting opportunities.  I couldn’t help but think that maybe this was the deer I heard behind me the morning Kenny died.  That maybe this deer came out in the same spot and got Kenny’s heart rate and adrenalin up and his heart couldn’t take it.  I’ll never know for sure, but it is certainly a plausible explanation.

We loaded up the buck and I drove him home first for the wife to see.  It was then that I shared my thoughts from her early morning nightmare.  I told her…"you know who that man in camo was standing at the back door in your dream was this morning don’t you?"  She looked at me quizzically as she tried to remember the details… I said, "you didn’t need to be afraid of him…it was Kenny."

I had the big deer processed, he weighed 176 pounds and there was no doubt I was going to have him mounted.  There was too much to the story of this deer to not have a tangible memory.  I had him mounted by Joe Mull who did a fantastic job.  The deer has two scars on his left ear that Joe preserved and most people would find a way to use that identifying mark to name the deer.  Something like Two-Scars or something…but no this is Kenny’s deer, so I had to think of something better than that.

It didn’t take long… “Kenny’s Revenge”…and he hangs proudly on my living room wall.  I still have the spent shotgun shell from the slug gun that took down my deer of a lifetime.  But even though I have memories of a perfect hunt, a magnificent mount that scored 145 5/8 and meat in the freezer, I’d rather not have the sad memories that involved Kenny’s Revenge.  I’d rather have Kenny and an upcoming hunting season of fried baloney sandwiches and the crisp morning air. 

From “A Hunter’s Prayer”:

Keep us safe and in Your care, as we add to memories we hold dear

And if by some fate we don’t return home, guide our souls to greater glories known.
Dedicated to my friend and hunting partner Pete “Kenny” Cline
Who passed doing what he loved best 10/28/2017.

BAS 7/14/2018…Til we hunt again…Psalm 23 

 

Ancient Skies

They sat and stared at the lights in the sky, 

Twinkling embers of distant worlds set on high.

Wondering where our world resides in the sands of time,

Are we young, are we old, or in the middle of this rhyme?

A young scout and an ancient warrior, one dreams of the future

The other contemplates the past, knowing it can’t be changed.

But he searches the memories for things different next time around.

The ancient warrior has won every battle he ever fought,

But the scars run deep and it is these he can’t forget.

For the young… life is full of adventure and hope.

For the ancient… it is just another turn of the wheel.

The young scout sees everything as new and fresh,

The ancient warrior remembers how it used to be.

His world now polluted with the stains of population,

He longs for empty spaces and far less faces.

The young knows no better, memories yet to distant.

But for the ancient it was just yesterday the embers glowed.

His memories remember the first lightning strike,

That sent a young world on its way to today.

The scout sees the stars as simple twinkling embers,

The ancient remembers holding the embers of that first fire.

An ancient warrior and a young scout sharing time

And then the sunrise comes into view as the moon sets

Off the hood of the car they scramble to see it better

For the young it is the hope of the future,

For the ancient…well it’s good to see it shine once again.

The cushioned seats remind the ancient of a worn saddle.

He remembers a time of horse and feather,

Rather than the falseness of synthetic leather.

The young scout turns the key and the engine churns.

The ancient warrior cherishes the silence,

But this chariot makes too much noise.

He opens the door and leaves the car,

The young scout wonders what’s wrong

As the ancient warrior waves a simple good-bye.

He’d rather walk and find his horse,

Than ride in some modern jalopy.

As the sky brightens to a new day,

The ancient has nothing left to say.

The young, he drives away forgetting the sun,

While the ancient basks in the glory of its rays.

The young on a freeway of transportation,

Fails to see the clues to his misfortune.

While the ancient walks fields of a green sea,

To pastures of loco weed where his horse may be.

And there amidst a herd of fillies, his steed awaits

To take him to his special place

Where he can once again wait for the sun to set

And the moon to rise with the promise of new worlds to see.

And a new scout to try and train…in the ways of Thee.