The Hunt

As the new hunting season has emerged, I am thrilled for many reasons.   Exploring the nook and crannies of the woods never gets old.  Autumn brought many new adventures.  See what I mean as I travel back to memories in northern lower Michigan:  (NOTE:  This time frame reflects fall of 2015...when I was still hunting (and trapping).  I'm now a "watcher" instead of a "warrior".)  

...As I opened the door of the cramped cabin to leave, I looked around.  I was leaving it in good stead.  Venison chili simmered hot on the working wood stove, our aging cattle dog, Zip, sighed and gave a look of resignation as I hoisted the crossbow, closed the door and headed out onto the carpet of leaves that would be my path.  Autumn had arrived.  And with it began my quest for our winter meat.

I curved around the back of the cabin, skirting the silhouetting trees that lined the dog yard.  No sled dogs murmured or whined, as they have become accustomed to my daily solo trek. 

I stopped at the same spot where the previous week I had surprised a coyote.  The other morning, as I headed out to do the morning check of our trap line, I walked through a dense area and came out into a clearing overlooking a vista.  I always stop in this particular spot to peruse the land, looking for anything out of place, or perhaps to catch a glimpse of a critter traveling through.  As I was looking, a massive coyote climbed up out of a hollow in front of me.  He also stood, looking about, scanning the perimeter.  As his head was on swivel to the left, he spotted me out of the corner of his eye and jolted with the knowledge.  Upon confirming me standing there, he shot off and sped across the land, making a wide arch, actually returning to our property, in particular the area of our sled dog kennel.  I only had my side arm on me that day.  But this opportunity also gave me time to admire his thick coat, and compare it to several of our thick coated Siberians, which reside in the dog yard.  Coy-dog perhaps?  He was no typical coyote.  Today, however, no coyote in sight.

Although the Barnett crossbow was a heavy tote, I opted to take the long route back to my “blind”.  Rain was spitting, but the threat didn’t appear to be long-suffering.  I had my “hot seat” looped on my belt, so I knew I’d have a dry seat upon arrival.  No worries.

Hearing geese overhead brought a smile.  I stopped to watch.  Today it was two gaggles, flying side by side.  Soon, a couple geese broke off from their original flight and joined a gaggle that split off and headed southwest.  Who knows why.  Perhaps they knew of a good landing zone the others who continued south didn’t appreciate. 

I put the crossbow on my shoulder and trudged on. 

The woods always change…from morning to night, and every hour in between.  The lighting makes the woods a new adventure each time I enter.  Using the sled dog trails from years past, I have a well-traveled path.  Deer and coyote tracks dominate.  As I carefully monitor each step, I feel so blessed.  I am thankful for Russ, who appreciates my love of being in the woods.  Night after night of me coming home in the dark makes for an abnormal dinner hour, but we both embrace this time of year and the opportunities it offers. 

As I walk on, a ruffed grouse whistles, alerting me to the fact that wings will soon explode in flight, creating a startled noise in the quiet of the woods.  Many times, my heart would beat madly when these birds caught me unaware. 

I think back to earlier this August, when checking the trap line was always met with a spider web forming upon my face when going through brush.  So many spider webs I’ve sported this year.  I would always smile when I saw “widow leaves” – those leaves that appear to be dancing on air – spooky – until you realize they are being held by a spider web. 

I finally arrive at my “chair”.  It’s a chair in the woods.  A wooden, hand carved swivel chair, made by Russ.  I had him pull it out of one of our cabins, making a perfect site for me, sitting under a huge beech tree, at the massive base.  We built up the perimeter a bit, and the deer have no problem appearing in the clearing as I sit in the chair. 

As I snuggled in for the long haul, I took inventory of my surroundings.  Many pro hunters don’t factor in wind.  I do. 

Many do factor in scent.  As for me, I have a theory about scent control.  I control it by putting my scent out year ‘round.  Every kernel of the non-GMO corn I feed has run through my hands, putting my scent on feed.  They know me.  They associate me with feed.  I recall hearing about Iditarod Champion, Susan Butcher, feeding her Alaskan pups this way, smooshing her hands into the meaty mixture to get her scent mixed in.  Whatever you do with regard to scent – be consistent. 

I also hunt without any fuss.  I know folks who bring coffee and eats to a blind.  Coffee leads to elimination.  Another issue.  All bring unwanted scent. 

As for cell phones and such.  No.  Never.  If I were to bring anything, it would be a book.  But I can’t even imagine doing that.  I go to the woods to hear and see the sounds that are ever changing.  I delight in the change of noise…the woods are never silent.  Especially if you sit under a beech tree in the fall.  The woods has so much to teach us. 

One last thing.  Look up.  Cougars are here.  You just never know when one might be in your neck of the woods. 

This year, there were less skeeters. 

This fall, in September during the “early Anterless hunt”, I was unsuccessful.  However, I did enjoy an encounter with a young porky as I was heading in for the night.  He was in the lane, nibbling on a dried out clover, unaffected by my moving toward him.  Only when I spoke to him and neared did he turn his back to me and puff up.  He seemed to resent the intrusion and finally toddled off into the woods.  Although I had two firearms at my ready, I let him go, hoping I wouldn’t regret the decision come dog training on the trails. 

Enjoy the woods, and the one who made it.  Mother Nature?  No, Father God.  Another good reason to look up…for Jesus said:

“Surely I am coming quickly”.

Side bar:  Yes, many changes in the last 3 years.  Life never stays dormant.  One big one is submitting to the teachings of Jesus.  More to come on what that looks like.  For both myself and Russ.  

Until tomorrow, Lord willing.  Hope to see you here.

Sherry

Clinging to HIM

It’s official.  Warm spring breezes and lots of sun, with a touch of rain to bring on the budding of trees finally occurred.  In addition, the deer have emerged from the “deer yards” further north on the Cedar River.  I saw the buck who has “hung out” the last 3 years, return.  I’ve also seen other tracks on the lane, and under my bird feeders, but haven’t visually spied them…yet. 

Spring is officially here, as evidenced by a trip to Mackinac Island's Grand Hotel with a dear friend to attend a women's conference.  Win-Some Women.

But I’m saddened.  The fox that went from being fun to watch all winter, went to being feared.  He/she snatched my beloved rooster, Stewie, carried him to the edge of the woods and violently ended his short life.  After Stewie came up missing, it took several days to piece together the story of his demise, clever fox that he is.

Stewie, aka “Stewpot” was a special rooster.  He was a gift from my Amish friends last fall.   It was a pleasure watching him blossom into a full-fledged rooster.  He came from good stock.  Days before he was killed I was telling my Amish friend that he loved to strut around the property with his 5 “girls” and crow and crow.  And now, he is gone.  Silence dominates the property.  Only the hens remain, with their protector slain.  A sad day indeed.

It’s spring.  A time of renewal.  But my mind is on things eternal.  As with Stewie the rooster, the vapor of life is evident. 

“Trust in Him who will not leave you, whatsoever years may bring.  If by earthly friends forsaken, still more closely to Him cling.  Hold to God’s unchanging hand, Hold to God’s unchanging hand.  Build your hopes on things eternal.  Hold to God’s unchanging hand.”

It’s easy to focus on the “things” that we all face.  Aging dogs, foxes that kill our beloved farm animals, medical issues of those we love... or just getting through a day without strife.   It can bring us to our knees.  And it should.  We should be on our knees – in prayer.  Being close to our Heavenly Father is what makes this all doable. 

As for me, I’m clinging to Him.  Clutching Him.  I’m grabbing at the hem of Jesus, dragging along. 

I have had so much change these past few years since having my eyes opened to the teachings and Words of Jesus.  The whole counsel of God. 

In our case, after 15 years, we have accepted the fact we are in a “marriage” not pleasing to God.  (See “The Seeker”.) 

The vow of my first “and two shall become one” marriage, taken at age 20…still stands, putting my 2^nd marriage in an adulterous state.  Luke 16:18 – Jesus said:  Whosoever putteth away his wife, and marrieth another, committeth adultery: and whosoever marrieth her that is put away from her husband committeth adultery.”

Simply put, there is no Biblical option for remarriage as long as your first one-flesh covenant spouse is still alive.  None. 

And so, to be obedient to my heavenly Father, our Creator, the separation has taken place over these past few years.   Russ and Sherry are no more.  Actually, we never were in God’s eyes, as my Maker has always seen me united in marriage to my first husband, until death. 

But.. through it all…the shock, the loss, the pain, the tears (oh-so-many tears), and the remorse and repentance {brought on by Biblical knowledge}, I am still thankful. 

I am closer to God: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  I hold that “unchanging Hand” every waking hour.  And I know He will not let go.  I have that blessed assurance.

Having lived in my little cabin for over the last year, I’m starting to settle in.  Last autumn I finally gave in to the acceptance of my new surroundings.  It took one question to make me realize that fact.  Upon being invited to join in at a quilt gathering at a nearby Amish community, I was telling the women around the quilt how small my cabin was…when this wise woman said {in her Pennsylvania Deutsch accent}…”but does it feel like home?”  The question caught me off guard.  I had to stop and think.  “Well…yes, I suppose it does...” is how I replied.  And since then, contentment has crept in.  My little cabin in the woods is “HOME”.

For now, I am living on a separate 10 acre parcel that isn’t even connected to the other 30.  It feels right. 

The separation has occurred in stages, like s-l-o-w-l-y ripping off a worn out - still sticking BandAid…  And through it all, we have felt God’s presence and patience and direction.   We know Christ is returning for His Bride (the church) soon and we want to be receptive to what God has in store for us – individually. 

But for now, I’m here.  On the land that I know.  And love. 

I know that on the 4^th of July, I can walk in the woods on a magical path, lit by fireflies.

By the 22^nd of July, the clover turns the land into a purple haze of beauty. 

By the end of October, the color literally takes my breath away.

I don’t know where this path of obedience will lead, but I do know this.  God, our Creator of the universe, the Author and Finisher of our faith, is the same;  yesterday, today and tomorrow.

He never changes. 

And I will hold on to His unchanging hand as I figure this out. 

Many blessings to you and yours.

More soon…Lord willing,

Sherry

1st Year of Berean Bush Living

Welcome Friends.  I wonder what your life is like…as spring emerges.

I was at an outdoor Auction this past weekend (up north, not far from the Mackinac Bridge) when I felt like I had emerged from a long winter.  Call me “Ursa” (Latin word for Bear).  I don’t travel in the winter, so my outings are few and far between over the long winter months, with only local travel.  Even so, the winter went by fast... until a week ago. 

Excited to spend time with my beloved visiting son and his sweet sweet girlfriend last week, I “poo poo’ed” the warnings of a storm.  Everyone was talking about it, but I didn’t hear it.  It even escalated to Severe warnings on my weather radio, but I showed casual interest…as my calendar showed mid-April.  J   But late Friday night when I stoked my woodstove and laid my head down to peer at the moon out my small “south” window, I drifted off to sleep with warm thoughts of a day well spent with my loved ones.  Then…it happened.  I woke to a “rush of heavy snow” sliding crashing off the metal roof to the ground.  Oh my…I haven’t heard anything quite like that all winter.  I reached over to stoke the stove, and slipped back down deep into my sleeping bag.  Then it happened again.  Woosh!  THUMP.

All night long it continued…Woosh…THUMP, and again….Woosh, THUMP.  Upon awakening Saturday morning, I thought “this can’t be good”.  The night before, I had pulled my truck deep into the woods, not heeding the warnings of the impending storm.  The truck was now “buried” – going nowhere, no time soon.  In the next 24-36 hours we would have 22” of snow.  (Actually, I believe that is a conservative figure.)  Short story is…I couldn’t get out of the woods, with the truck, OR on foot.  I tried…but the snow was SO DEEP I couldn’t walk in it without snow shoes.  It didn’t help that the snow had the consistency of sugar/sand.  This had landed on previous snow, and so far this month alone we have had 39”.  (A local record was said to be broken…)  I headed back to the cabin, struggling through the snow, and settled in.  The classical story of the boy with his grandfather and the goat...buried in their cabin…came to mind.  "Buried in the Snow" by Franz Hoffmann.

It was later in the day that Russ showed up to “rescue me”.  Good thing…as I was low on H20 and “substantial” food.  (I usually head up mid-day to tend to the dogs and when I didn’t that day, he knew there was a problem.)  We don’t use phones for such things.  Wouldn’t work anyway, since only one of us has one.  But I’m only ½ mile away… {And yes...I could have melted snow...) 

  

On the way out to the main lane, which was also sketchy, I stepped off the narrow path and went down nearly to my hip on one leg.  Unless a friend, or tree, {or a thick-coated-eager-to-please canine} is near to grab hold of, it’s difficult to get free as the snow holds you firm.  Like quicksand.  {Sidebar:  I had just watched Pilgrim’s Progress several days prior, and know full well the dangers of straying from “the narrow path”.  During the movie, I kept thinking…Christian…don’t get off the path again!!  Isn’t that how life is…we can see it so clearly when it’s someone else who is “in trouble”…or making wrong choices.}

Well, the next five days were rough.  I won’t bore you with the details, but after five days, an angel was finally dispatched to come and plow me out, at what I felt was minimal cost.  {When one is desperate, you are willing to pay dearly.}  This was in addition to the usual front-end loader driver who had tried on Sunday night, but couldn’t get in the woods due to too much snow.  My truck finally got out, and I felt such a relief.  It still isn’t easy getting around, a week later.  But having the wind stop blowing, and the sun shining brightly…sure makes trudging through a wintery slop in my knee-high MUCK boots bearable.

But the best thing of all was the “wake up call” I received in this storm.  Some of the plans I had for next year, including moving the sled dogs deep in the woods, are scratched.  Bottom line, I need them near the water source.  I truly would have had an impossible time getting water for that many critters, plus me. 

And I know one thing…I’m getting a new-fangled pair of snowshoes.  I do treasure the old ones, but need something lightweight to skitter over the snow.  {Catching your tips and falling in snowshoes is no picnic either…}

So in a week’s time, the weather went from deadly to drop-dead gorgeous.  At the Auction, exactly one week later, the sun glistened off the remaining snow on the auctioned-off property.  Temps climbed into the 50’s.  You saw sheer enjoyment in all you came in contact with – people came out in droves to enjoy the sounds of the auction rings and announcers and visit with their neighbors.  Spring is near!   I even ended up with a sunburn! My Amish friends did too…as they were working the food booth at the Auction.  (YUM…I headed home with a pan of cinnamon rolls, a groaningly delicious loaf of bread, and chocolate-ty whoopee pies…YUM indeed.)  I also loaded up a couple of newly constructed Bluebird houses, sold by the bright-eyed smiling Amish boys at the Auction.  Perfect timing, as I plan to set up a Bluebird trail on my “ten”.  (Days before the big storm I saw a bright blue male BB checking out an old BB house, near the Wee.) 

In addition, it was so good to be up in my “old stomping grounds” and view Little Traverse Bay (Lake Michigan) half open, half covered with ice.  Beautiful country…northern lower Michigan.

As I headed south at the end of a long day of auction and errands (oil change for my truck/critter feed at Tractor Supply, etc.) I felt renewed.  I had survived the winter.  I was looking forward to getting back to my little cabin in the woods. 

In addition, I am looking forward to the summer and preparation for another winter (firewood, etc.).  Twelve cord served me well this year.  This morning, “Woody”, my Pileated Woodpecker was thrilled to find 2 new suet cakes right outside my window in the cake feeder.  He is such a fixture – visits daily.  One of my many “day brighteners”.

This morning I enjoyed my morning cabin coffee (with water heated with a foldable Sterno Camp stove) while watching the riotous antics at my bird feeder.  Besides Woody, I have goldfinches, a bevy of other woodpeckers, 3 black squirrels, several red squirrels, emerging chipmunks, chickadees (of course) and more.  I’ve also had a tall red fox visit several times, one time almost crossing paths with me!  Who can blame him for wanting to check out the flurry of activity?  Of course there are more critters, such as the raccoon that raided my birdfeeder one moonlit evening.  And I look forward to the return of the deer, (and yes, even porkies and skunks…) 

How about you?  Did you survive the winter?  I hope so…J

Until next time…Lord willing,

Sherry

P.S.  If you are wondering why I moved out to my little cabin on April 23, 2017, a year ago, here’s the beginning of the story back in April of 2015...  The SEEKER.   

The rest of the story, my story… is forthcoming.  Woosh…THUMP.