Humor

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It all started when I was moving hogs (a.k.a. pigs, swine, "oinkers?") from a holding barn to the processing plants. My first job was to load the animals onto a trailer. I was to persuade the critters that it was better for them to step out from a warm comfy barn into a blast of cold steamy air where the temperature hovered at -40F.

The pigs weren't impressed and just stood there united together. UGH! Who said animals are stupid? Perhaps we Christians could learn a lesson from them—united we stand—divided . . . we wind up in the processing plant.

Well, eventually I delivered the pigs next door to Schneiders where you could find the best-tasting bacon and ham sandwiches around. One of the men working there, named Grant, was an avid goose hunter. His enthusiasm for the sport and his gifts of bagged geese for the table convinced me that hunting was for me.

You know the old saying, "birds of a feather flock together"? Well it wasn't long before I discovered three more hunters working at the pig barn. These guys encouraged me to go after bigger game—"More meat in the freezer," they said. That sounded good to me.

If I was going to hunt big game, I wanted the biggest gun. It wasn't long before my intelligent research (a synonym for my friends' unintelligent opinions) led me to a man who was selling his 30-year-old magnum rifle with a scope. I was so excited! I couldn't believe that I was getting the "best gun ever made." Maybe it was . . . 30 years ago. But that didn't matter. My research said it was the best gun ever and that settled it.

Anyways, on a friend's farm, I tested the rifle out with the gun owner right beside me. I took one shot. The explosion was so deafening, I was convinced this thing was more powerful than a Sherman tank. Never mind that I didn't hit the target just a few feet away. I bought the gun right on the spot, and the owner seemed only too pleased to part with it. He even gave me several boxes of his reload bullets for free. WHAT A DEAL! (I discovered later that the gun clip would fall out every time I pulled the trigger, and that some of his free bullets wouldn't fit into the chamber of the rifle. But that didn't matter—it was the "best gun ever made.")

Oh yes, I almost forgot. It was time to sight the gun in. Assured by the previous owner that this rifle had bull's eye accuracy, I was convinced that sighting the gun in at 100 yards was for amateurs. (He claimed to have shot 2 deer with 1 bullet at 1,000 yards—and I believed him.) So I decided to sight my gun in at 400 yards. With a roll of string, I paced off the distance, and wound up somewhere across a canyon on top of a rise. With a walkie-talkie in hand, I sat my son near the target. In hindsight, I can see that it may not have been such a good idea.

I settled down in a prone position, resting the barrel of my rifle on my brand new backpack. Looking through the scope, I could barely make out the target even at full magnification. I placed the jittering crosshairs on the mark and held my breath. I pulled the trigger and the cannon went off! Then I radioed my son—who was still alive fortunately. He looked through his binoculars but said he couldn't see any bullet holes in the target. I was certain I had hit it. Remember, this WAS the "best gun ever made." I told him to check it out in person, but alas, the results were the same.

I shot off 10 or 15 boxes of bullets that day (I lost count after 200 rounds) and never hit the target once. I couldn't understand it. Thankfully, my son got through unscathed, but unfortunately, my brand new backpack did not. It was full of holes and literally shredded apart as hundreds of bullets had ripped through it while I was blissfully unaware.

Now to my hunting experiences. For those of you who are faint of heart and shrink at the sight of blood, take courage: there are no gory details in the following adventures to spare you from.

We were all set. I had my hunting license, sandwiches, a brand new Buck Knife from S.I.R., and of course "the best gun ever made." I had polished this rifle so much that I felt confident the grateful gun would reward me with a trophy deer.

We arrived at the government crown land which was about an hour from home. Early signs of dawn had already started when I turned off the highway onto a gravel road and stopped. I shoved the clip into my gun, pulled the bolt back, and slid a bullet into the chamber. Even though I knew it was against the law to have a loaded gun in my vehicle, I did it anyways. After all, I wanted to be prepared for any surprise. And there was no authority around to see me. So . . . why not bend the rules?

I slowly drove my beater up the steeply ascending road through the beautiful forest. I had just reached the top of the hill when I suddenly stopped the vehicle. For there, in front of me, standing on the road, was the largest grey buck I had ever seen. It was not fifty feet away. My pulse quickened and my hands felt clammy as I grabbed my gun. "Be still," I said to my son, who was sitting in the front passenger seat watching me.

I slowly stepped out of the vehicle. The deer made no attempt to flee. I raised the gun and peered down the scope, my heart beating wildly in anticipation of bagging my first deer. To my surprise, I could not see the deer. I raised my head. Sure enough, the deer was still there. I lowered my eyes again to the scope . . . total blackness! What was going on? I raised my head the second time. The buck grunted and began to saunter away just when I realized that the dust caps protecting the scope were still on. By the time I removed the caps, the deer was out of sight.

I got back into the truck to explain embarrassingly to my son how the big one got away. My son just looked at me and said, "What deer?"

Astonished, I looked at him and said, "You didn't see the deer? It was standing right in front of us . . . you were looking right at it!"

The truth is, he did not see it; but I, his father, did. Likewise, I thought no one could see me when I ignored the law about having a loaded gun in my vehicle. Yet I had forgotten that my Heavenly Father sees all. And because I broke His law about obeying the laws of the land, God would not bless me that day. For I had set a terrible example to my son and God was not pleased.

"Therefore submit yourselves to every ordinance of man for the Lord's sake, whether to the king as supreme, or to governors, as to those who are sent by him for the punishment of evildoers and for the praise of those who do good" (1 Peter 2:13-14).

Now to the second story. When you own a big gun like the one I had, you want a big prize. I decided I was going after a bull moose. Though I hadn't shot anything with my gun yet (except for my backpack), I was certain fate would shine on me. I prepared for our trip by dragging my son to every sporting store, hoping to get free tips on hunting moose. I even had one store clerk doing horrendous moose calls in a megaphone made of tree bark. It was guaranteed to bring in the big one. So I bought it and practiced with it the night before the hunt, making nasal sounds and animal grunts.

Early in the morning I woke up my son who had grown less than enthusiastic about his father's infatuation with hunting. But like a trooper he came along, even though he was more afraid of seeing a moose than bagging one.

We finally arrived at our destination. I was prepared for any adversity. We donned hip waders when we realized it was quite marshy in the area. "Absolute silence," I told my son, as I blew my nose like a foghorn. I led the way down the trail with the "best gun ever made" proudly held across my chest.

Finally, my son and I came into a clearing that was very boggy indeed (kind of like walking on a water bed). To my left I noticed a hunter behind a bluff. And he noticed me. Of course, I did not want to appear that I was moving in on his territory (even though I was) and thought I should walk over to say hello. Looking like Bozo the clown with my bright orange hat and vest, I started to lead this great procession of my son and I toward the man. I was certain that he would be impressed with my big gun.

Looking straight ahead, I approached the "poor" hunter who was obviously not as blessed in the gun department as I was. "Hello," I said, "I'm—" Suddenly, I disappeared into a stream of ice-cold water up to my chest. The hunter, who had just reached out his hand horizontally to shake mine, now had to reach downward to pull me out of the miry swamp. Thankfully my gun was still dry. I had only gained about a hundred pounds from the influx of water trapped in my hip waders. I acted as nonchalant as possible . . . as if disappearing into a boggy stream was the usual thing for me.

Needless to say, I kept my visit quite short. My son and I quickly made our way to the far side of the swamp into the forest where I was certain we were out of sight. And there I hastily removed my waders (along with everything else) and prayed that my clothes would dry soon.

Eventually, the other hunter left, and we ventured out to the middle of the swamp where there was a clump of saplings growing. "We will set up a blind here," I said to my son. With no axe in hand, this "prepared" hunter attempted to break some very tough little saplings in order to string them together so we could hide behind them. Well, those little suckers refused to snap even when I bent them back and forth a hundred times. My son was having fun though. He would step on those saplings and start bouncing up and down, screaming with laughter as he sprang off. I didn't have the heart anymore to tell him to be quiet.

For you see, God had quieted me. I had been humbled . . . humiliated more like it. For in my pride, I thought I was superior to this other hunter. I had brand new hip waders, vest, hat, and carried the "best gun ever made." That other hunter was in raggedy clothes and his gun inferior to mine—or so I thought. Yet the scripture says, "Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall" (Proverbs 16:18). And boy, did I fall—all the way up to my chest in icy water. I was stripped of my clothes and my pride at the same time. "For God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble" (1 Peter 5:5b).

My hunting days are over at this point. The only thing I shoot with now is a camera. Thankfully, I sold the gun when I realized it wasn't so great after all. I hope I've learned my lesson. The tendency for our heart to be lifted up with pride is always around us. How careful we need to be.

"Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time" (1 Peter 5:6).

Blessings,
Paul Janz

(All Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New King James Version.)

"The Wannabe Hunter Within" Copyright © 2010 by Paul Janz.

Paul Janz is a mature aspiring author whose writings are based on personal experiences and issues that the Lord has laid on his heart. His wit, humor, maturity, and ability to tell a good story make him an ideal writer for any Christian magazine.

Contact him directly through his website: Heaven Inspired Movies

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