While I Was Hunting
I hear a shot, I wish it was me but then I think, was it my uncle Albie who is hunting about 1/2 mile away from me where the cabin used to be?
Or could it have been my dad, considering how the deer flock to him as if he was one of their own.
There was a sudden gust of wind; a chill runs over my body. I was not properly clothed for the temperatures I was faced with. My stand shakes.
I better be still. I listen quietly and noticed the obvious things we generally overlook.
Then I start to think. Perhaps the greatest thing of hunting is being with nature alone, although not completely, the Lord is always with you.
While I was thinking something hit me like a bolt of lightning. I only have one bullet. Options run through my head.
Do I walk to the truck and hope there in there? I can see the truck minimally through the thick brush. Do I call my dad on the radio?
He probably doesn't have it turned on. Should I take my chances with the one bullet? I'm not a very good shot.
What if I shoot and miss and it just stands there and looks at me as if it knows I'm out of bullets. What do I do then? Is this a win for the deer?
This was written by my grandson whom I love dearly.
