|I'd follow this man anywhere|
Monday, April 6, 2020
Call us crazy, but Gary and I went tromping through the woods today. Together. For fun. And for a very good reason--at least to my dear husband. Me? I was just happy to be in the mountains.
With a beautiful day at hand, we hopped in the car and headed across the valley to the mountains.
Once on the picturesque Blue Ridge Parkway, he steered the car northward in search of his “spot.” The goal was to scout for turkey sign as a precursor to the start of the upcoming season in short six days. He is beyond excited at the prospect of hunting more than normal now that the world seems to have closed up shop due to Corvid-19. Less work=hunt more.
Here’s the back story. Hunting turkeys is a favorite pastime for this husband of mine. For years he ventured into the national forest for a chance to call in a big ‘ol turkey before blasting pellets into the bird. He often took friends with him, parking in the dark, wee hours of the morning, bushwhacking up the mountainside, and positioning himself to outwit a gobbler in search of love by replicating the irritating yelp of the female. Many of his hunts proved successful. An unproductive Elmer Fudd he is not.
The hike along said trails led us first to a relatively flat area that he frequented when he hunted this area in years past. He told me stories of how his dad shot a bird 25 years ago, and how a friend missed one that Gary called in. We abandoned the easy trail and began to look for sign in the woods. “I’ll head to the left and you look to the right,” Gary instructed. “You know what you’re looking for, right?”
Good question. Turns out that turkeys love to scratch around in leaves in their quest for bugs or whatever it is they find tasty. “So I’m looking for messy leaves?” Hum. This should be interesting in a forest with a leaf-covered floor. He showed me an example of a scratch, but I wasn't convinced. I tried hard to find an obvious sign of gathered turkeys. Nevertheless, I think I was concentrating more on not tripping over dead-fall than I was in finding sign.
It wasn’t until we checked out another area of open hardwoods that I really caught on. I began to
So think about this. If wild turkey routinely leave signs, I’m wondering how hard it should be for our presence as Christ-followers to be identified?
It seems to me that we should be making a difference wherever we are. People should be able to say, “Look. A Christian has obviously been here. We can tell."
A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another. John 13:34, 35
By the time I finish most races, I've figured out at least the first paragraph of my post-race story. This was one of the few where the ...
I was on a mission. Mind you, a mission is not a goal. A mission grows roots that reach to the depths, providing an anchor to render the mis...
I swept the 35 miles of the Promise Land 50K trail. If you have a picture of a white-haired old gal with broom in hand whisking away sticks...
Pulling into the driveway at 0345, Rachel quickly made her way to the car. The prepared bag of extra clothes and snacks went into the back s...