A Look at Life from a Deer Stand by Steve Chapman

Author:Steve Chapman
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780736948982
Publisher: Harvest House Publishers, Inc.

10

A Still Small Sound

As a participant in “Archery Camp” held at Maranatha Bible Camp near North Platte, Nebraska, I was privileged to be placed in a large and very comfortable treestand that I called the “Stoner Hilton.” It is named after Donn Stoner, who helped build the stand and extended the invitation for my son and me to enjoy a few days in a unique blending of hunting, tournament shooting, and fellowship. The DART System folks were there and provided some realistic scenarios for those who dared to try the big-screen type of target practice. It was a great experience. Plus, I had never seen so much testosterone gathered in one place. All the men were qualified to do the Home Improvement TV show “grunt” when they got out of their cars upon arrival.

The setting at Maranatha Bible Camp is prime deer country. It sits on a winding tributary of the North Platte River, and the surrounding woods are beautiful. The facilities were excellent and the camp staff were first-class from the gate to the supper table. The property we were planning to hunt sits along I-80 in central Nebraska, and the treestand placements made the interstate audible to those who were positioned on the north end of the acreage.

The wind was out of the southeast on that Thursday when we arrived, blowing about ten miles per hour. The conditions for the evening hunt couldn’t have been any better. We were blessed with sunny, beautiful weather. Donn led me to the “Hilton” treestand, and I settled in at 5 P.M. in the cottonwood. The stand was well-placed and it overlooked a logging road that meandered through the woods. A well-used trail crossed underneath. About 5:45, I got a glimpse of a big doe and fawn slowly moving down the road toward me. My adrenaline started to flow, and I was sure my heartbeat was audible. She and the little one disappeared behind a fat Nebraska pine. I knew in about seven to ten seconds they would step into view at about 20 yards from me. I had to make a decision quickly. Do I finish my weekend hunt, or do I let her go on by and hope for another opportunity with a large rack of horns? I stood motionless as the huge doe walked out into the small open road. Although I was above her nose, her eyes detected me. Silhouetted against the sky, I was an unusual form. She cautiously went on by, and my bow remained rested in my waist support. I chose to wait.

After a few minutes, my pulse rate returned to normal, and I scanned the woods below me again. The wind picked up a little, and the traffic on the interstate seemed to as well. The combined noises made it difficult to hear one of my favorite sounds in the world. While I love to hear the sweetness of Annie’s voice, the children saying “Dad,” a congregation singing “It Is Well with My Soul,”

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