Hunting and God's Creation

Here is a little something I wrote, kind of inspired by the evening I went hunting with Dad. Here it is!

The woods seemed silent, save for the occasional call of a hawk, and the wind whistling through the trees. 

My attention was drawn to the hunter above me in a stand.  His eyes attentively scanning the forest, waiting for the telltale sign of a deer: the sleek body sliding through the trees, or a flip of the white tail. His gaze shifted to the left, ever looking. It was getting dark now, and I could only see his tall, silhouette standing tall, in the bright moonlight. 

The hunter was climbing down from his perch on the stand. I gathered my own equipment, and met him at the base of the tree.  We began to make our way out of the semi-darkened forest, listening to the coyotes howling at the moon, and rustling of the leaves under-foot.  As we neared the swamp, the pungent odor of mud, water and decaying matter filled my nostrils.  The wind cause ripples to form in the murky water, the only disturbance visible. We had brought a flashlight, but it lay unused in the hunter’s pocket  because of the bright moon.

I looked toward the moon, which was almost full.  The bright ball had drifted behind a group of spruce trees, but its’ rays still shown defiantly through the needles.  As we continued walking, the moon re-appeared, lighting our path, guiding us along through the dark forest.  

The hunter, my father had stopped, and I realized that we had already reached the truck. I relieved myself of the camouflage hunting coat and blaze orange vest.  I waited as the hunter loaded his stand, gun and coat into the vehicle, studying the dark, cold looking woods behind me, illuminated by the moon.  He finished, and we both climbed into the truck, the engine started, and we drove off, away from the woods…the moon still shining its’ silvery face upon us.