Steve Chapman - Stories from the Deer Stand: A Hunters Wisdom on What Really Matters

HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS

EUGENE, OREGON

Unless otherwise indicated, Scripture verses are taken from the New American Standard Bible, 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.

Verses marked KJV are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

Cover photo Charles Alsheimer

Cover by Koechel Peterson & Associates, Inc., Minneapolis, Minnesota

STORIES FROM THE DEER STAND

Formerly titled A Hunter Sets His Sights

Copyright 2000 by Paul Stephen Chapman (text and illustrations)

Published 2013 by Harvest House Publishers

Eugene, Oregon 97402

www.harvesthousepublishers.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Chapman, Steve.

[A hunter sets his sights] Stories from the deer stand / Steve Chapman.

p. cm.

Originally published: A hunter sets his sights. Eugene, Or: Harvest House Publishers 2000.

Includes bibliographical references.

ISBN 978-0-7369-4829-6 (pbk.)

ISBN 978-0-7369-4830-2 (eBook)

1. HuntingReligious aspectsChristianity. 2. HuntingAnecdotes. I. Title.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meanselectronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any otherexcept for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

To my sweet wife, Annie, who most appreciates what I bring home from the hunters woods.
I love her with all my heart.

I f you say the words the moment of truth to a hunter, more than likely his or her eyes will immediately light up and sparkle with exuberance. Why? Because it describes the thrilling moment when effort and opportunity converge in the woods or in the field. The effort is the work, practice, planning, and strategy a hunter puts into pursuing and outsmarting an elusive creature such as a whitetail deer, bear, elk, or wild turkey. The opportunity is the sudden sighting of the game of choice and the nerve-testing realization that it has come close enough to be in range of a shot that might result in taking the trophy home.

One of my unforgettable moments of truth includes the mountains of Montana, two friends, three horses, and a .270 caliber rifle. It also includes one large black bear. In my four decades of hunting, I had never pursued a bear. In fact, I had never even seen one in the wild! For that reason I was especially pumped about heading west for a Springtime hunt.

On day three of a planned five-day trip, my advance efforts met with opportunity. As my friend Eddy, our guide, Randy, and I rode horseback into the lower side of a beautiful lush green meadow around midday, we got a fleeting glimpse of a portion of something coal-black in a ditch about 75 yards up the mountain. Randy quietly called us to a halt and quickly put his binoculars to his eyes. Suddenly I heard him say words that made my hands tremble and my breathing rapid.

Steve, thats a lone bear, and hes a nice one. Get your gun and slip up to this tree!

I hurriedly pulled the rifle out of the scabbard, handed my video camera to Eddy, and joined Randy next to a sizable pine. In the same instant, the bear came up out of the ditch and took a commanding stance facing downhill. As the huge beast stared in our direction, I very slowly raised my .270 and rested it against the solid trunk of the big pine. I placed the crosshairs of the scope just behind the right shoulder of the massive body.

Then, being careful not to allow the safety to make a metallic sound that might spook the animal, I gingerly pushed the lever forward into the firing position with my thumb. The bear stood motionless, still looking toward us. He was slightly quartered enough to reveal a perfect heart shot. As I slowly put pressure on the trigger, effort and opportunity collided.

Ready...Aim... CLICK!

Oh, no! I screamed inside my head. I forgot to chamber a bullet! (And the film is rolling.) When I had slipped the rifle out of the scabbard I had allowed myself to get so caught up in the excitement that I forgot to work the bolt and load the gun. Duh! I quickly loaded the gun.

I hoped the bear hadnt disappeared. Amazingly, when I resighted, he hadnt moved. To minimize the movement and the noise, I chambered a bullet as slowly...and yet as quickly...as I could and once again took aim. I couldnt believe I was about to get a second chance. Within a few long seconds the mountainside roared with the report of my high-powered rifle. Seventy-five yards away the unbelievable result of my personal moment of truth awaited my inspection.

He was huge...as was the cost of the rug that now graces my home! In its now permanent reclined pose, the big black bear stares intently at whoever enters its territory. And his daunting, toothy expression reminds me of the thrilling moment when he and I met in the tall mountains.

The years have yielded miles of hunting yarns that I could spin about other awesome moments just like the one with my first bear. While many of them have ended with the satisfaction of taking home the evidence of success, there is a host of other tales that feature a different type of trophy. Waiting to be found right in the same woods where the animals I love to hunt choose to live are life-changing insights. The opportunity to discover these trophies of truth comes when the conscious effort is made to look for them. I sincerely enjoy the discovery of truth, and Im not alone in this quest. Deep in the hearts of many hunters is the desire to find something out there that is more than just food for their freezers or impressive wall hangers.

I discovered one truth trophy while hunting with my son, Nathan, during his first Tennessee gobbler hunt. The morning was slow in terms of action. After sitting and calling in one place for about two hours with no results, we decided to group up with my son-in-law, Emmitt. The three of us would walk and talk turkey with my loud box-call. The game plan was to skirt the field edges and about every hundred yards stop and send out an inviting call of a love-sick hen. Our hope was to connect with an amorous tom that might be hiding back in the timber.

Within 30 minutes, while the three of us slipped along single file at the edge of a narrow field, the connection was made. A mere 50 yards away, just over the crest of the hill and out of sight to our left, an old male turkey responded with a gobble that rattled the earth.

Emmitt had some previous experience with the sudden shock of a gobbling turkey so he knew what to do. He quickly hid himself in the brush, sat down to reduce his silhouette and rested his shotgun up on his knee, ready to shoot. Nathan, however, having never been close to a huge bird and having never been suddenly shaken by its boisterous call, froze at the sound of the birds big voice. He was paralyzed by the unknown.

Realizing he had no idea what to do, I grabbed my stunned son by his belt and pulled him into the brush. I quickly pointed out a tree for him to lean against, instructed him to sit down and point his gun into the field with his finger on the safety button. A mere minute or so later the brilliant white head of the frisky gobbler appeared in the tall grass about 40 yards away. I quietly whispered (as I thankfully filmed the entire scene), Whenever you have a shot, take him! Boom! The deal was done.