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A confession about deer hunting

Struttin’ Time:

Another hunting season is almost gone. It has been a thrill, to say the least. We have hunted in 10 states, killed some game that we don’t usually get a chance to hunt, and had fun doing it.

The hunt I just came from, hunting black bear in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, was a trip that is only told in stories. It was a wonderful hunt.

Although I had a chance to take a nice buck in the over 140-pound class, I let him walk. I was there to hunt black bear. I stopped and searched my heart and mind and brought forth the truth that I have known for some time; I am not a deer hunter. Now that I have told the whole world, please forgive me if over the years I have misled you by thinking I was.

I have killed many deer, but for some time now have had less and less interest doing so. I never got a black bear this trip, but I saw two. I just never had a good ethical shot, so that means no shot. I went the farthest into the big mountain that I have ever gone. I was more than 5,000 feet high, according to my GPS, and in a week’s time walked over 22 miles. In all that time, six days of hunting and all that travel, not once did I see another human, hear one dog bark, or hear one noisy car or truck. Jesus takes his vacation there I am sure.

When I returned home, I was greeted with some more good news — I had been chosen to hunt turkey on December 10 at the Bluegrass Army Depot. This is my second year straight for that honor.

We will be signing off in a couple of weeks until 2017. It has humbled me to know how dedicated readers you are. Will we be able to hunt 10 states next year? Will we be able to go the distance? I hope so. You and I are a team.



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