Call of the Wild...Right

I've been attending a men's Bible study the last few weeks entitled "Spiritual Outdoor Adventures." I get up at the crack of dawn, literally, the last few Thursdays -- me and a handful of other guys who couldn't make the other two sessions offered at normal human hours.

The study focuses on Biblical principles from outdoor activities, namely hunting. We watch a 20-minute or so video and then spend the rest of the time discussing aspects presented in the video. So far there have been sessions involving deer hunting, caribou hunting and, this morning, duck hunting.

It's all great and I love the fellowship and discussion, but... the videos are like a whole new world to me. That's because I don't hunt. I don't own a gun, actually -- although I do believe it's my American right to own one if I want to for all you liberals out there!!!!

Whew. Glad to get that out of the way. Back to the story. There once was a time in my life where I actually wanted to hunt. I actually craved sitting out in the cold woods watching nature live its life around me and hoping that an unlucky stray buck might wander into my sight line.

That's the problem, though. The only deer I've ever seen up close are the ones who graze on the side of the highway on my way home. That's a huge problem for a deer hunter, by the way. The deer are supposed to be in the woods, not out by the road laughing at the trucks that go by on the way to a deer lease.

The last time I hunted was on Jan. 1, 1983. I'll never forget that day because I remember going home and watching the Cotton Bowl. A friend from church had offered to let me go hunting with him. My dad never had an interest in it at all, and as I grew up there was some kind of interest at some point but I never could understand Dad's total indifference towards hunting.

Now I know. I had sat in a handful of deer stands before and had never seen one single, cotton-picking deer. Nothing. Not one! On this New Year's Day in 1983, the friend took me to a deer stand on his lease and set me up all by my lonesome with a 30.06 (I believe that's what it was) and left me there to kill.

One big problem, however. Two actually. He left me there in a temperature of about 30 degrees or so, at least with the wind chill. And he left me there in a steady, pouring rain. Cold rain! Great deer hunting conditions, I was told.

I'd have had more luck on a snipe hunt. For those who might not know, snipe don't really exist. You take some loser on a snipe hunt, give him a trash bag or something and stick him in the middle of a field. Then you tell him you're going to go over in the woods and rustle up some imaginary ground bird called a "snipe," and said imaginary bird will magically fly toward the bag in the middle of this large, empty field. You then calmly walk into the woods and leave the poor sap in the darkness, waiting on a fowl that will never, ever appear. It's a great, great way to have a huge laugh at someone else's expense. Trust me, I've been on both ends of it.

Anyway, a snipe hunt is like every deer hunt I've ever been on. I don't think a deer exists, at least when I'm the one sitting in a stand in the middle of a freezing rain. I froze my tootsie off that day in '83, and at some point while the rain soaked my layers of clothing I made a somewhat audible prayer to God.

I promised that if God would allow me to get out of those woods alive and not suffer frostbite, I'd never, ever be foolish enough to sit out in the middle of the thicket and hunt deer. As always, He provided, and I have kept my end of the bargain. I've never been in the woods on a hunt since, and I don't plan on starting.

But I see these videos in Bible study of these guys having all this fun, and I wonder -- how long did it take to actually shoot the film, because every scene has something dying in it. It's like, did you ever wonder why you didn't catch the same amount of fish as someone on those fishing shows? It doesn't happen like that, folks. You don't catch a fish every time you throw the line into the water.

And for me, hunting is like that. There's too much other stuff I could be doing than sitting out there wondering if Bambi is going to grace me with his presence today. Or tomorrow. Or anytime.

All I ask is that he stay off the road when I drive by.