The Hunting Trip

The two climbed the ladder to the top of the tree together.  Clayton held both twenty-two rifles as his son, Chipper, situated himself comfortably in the stand.  Once he was settled, Clayton handed him his gun and sat down.  “Are you excited?” Clayton asked his son.  “Yeah dad,” the ten-year old boy said as he pulled out his favorite snack, a bag of trail mix. 

Clayton and his wife finally came to an agreement earlier in the week that Chipper was ready to go on his first hunting trip.  In fact, it was opening day, five o’clock in the morning while the sun was still rising above the night sky and the dew still sat thickly upon the leaves.  A few birds chirped here and there, but other than that, all was calm.

Clayton noticed that his son exhaled deeply as he watched his breath dissipate into the air.  “Are you cold?” Clayton asked Chipper.  “No I’m fine,” replied the boy.  “How long will it take?  You know, for the deer to show up.”  Clayton answered, “They could show up in just a few minutes, or it could take a few hours.  There may be two, three, or maybe even just one.”

Clayton could tell that Chipper was tired.  He hoped that Chipper was as excited about hunting as he was taking him.  Clayton had always dreamed of having a son and getting opportunities to bond with him on hunting and fishing trips just as his dad had done with him.  Out in the wild is where he learned about life and it was out in the wild that he would share with his son what his dad had shared with him.

“Hey dad, you know what I want to do?” asked Chipper.  Clayton turned to look at his son and asked, “What’s that son?”  “I want to kill a big ole’ ten point and mount ‘em above my bed!” Chipper said excitingly.  Clayton replied, “I’ll tell ya what, the first buck that walks into that opening is yours.”  Chipper turned and smiled and looked through his new pair of binoculars.  Clayton leaned back, stretched his long legs out, and rubbed his rugged face as they both waited for a deer to step out from the brush.

“Son, look around you…at the trees, the grass, the birds, the squirrels, the fresh air.  What do you think?”  Clayton asked with purpose.  “It’s really pretty dad,” Chipper answered.  Clayton looked at his son and said, “God made all of this.  He breathed life into the plants of these woods and the birds of the air.  He designed all of it.  Hunting is real fine thing son.  When I come out here, I always thank God for providing, for he puts the food on the table.  Also, hunting provides us the opportunity to enjoy and marvel at God’s creation.  It helps me see how truly amazing he is son.”  Clayton watched as his son looked up at him with a half smile.  Chipper replied, “That’s pretty cool.  I’ve never thought of it like that.”  Clayton felt warm in his heart as he watched his son look off into the woods pondering that thought.

An hour, maybe two had passed and they still hadn’t seen a thing.  Clayton looked over at his boy and in his deep voice said, “It’s time to call.”  He handed chipper the quad grunt call.  Chipper slowly slid the o-ring to “doe.”  He puffed a few short breaths into the tube, just as his dad had taught him.  “How was that?”  Chipper asked.  “Sounded great Chipper.  Do it a couple of more times,” Clayton said.  He did as his dad told him and then they both sat there and continued to wait.

A few minutes later, some disturbance in the bushes could be heard.  Chipper whispered very enthusiastically, “What was that?”  Clayton helped his son get his gun ready as he said, “hand me the call and I’ll blow it a few times.  Keep your safety on until I give you the signal.”  Chipper propped his gun up on the side of the hunting stand, with his finger hovering over the safety.  Clayton blew once.  The rustling of bushes crept closer.  He blew again.  Chipper was impatiently staring the opening down, about fifty yards away, through his scope.  Clayton blew a third time and about that time, a curious twelve-point stepped out into the opening searching for the doe in heat.  Clayton looked over at Chipper and nodded.  Chipper slowly pressed the safety off and lined up the shoulder of the deer in the cross hairs.  He slowly tightened his finger on the trigger, pressing the stock of the gun firmly into his shoulder.  He fired.  Birds quickly rushed into the air from the protective covering of the trees.  The deer raced off into the woods about twenty yards until he fell dead.  "God provided," Chipper spoke softly.  Clayton looked down at his son, and his son up at him and they both smiled.