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Outdoor Truths: Aiming Outdoorsmen Toward Christ Nov. 1st
We’re easing ever so close to a deer hunters favorite time of year; the rut. The northern states are only a few days away and the rest of us will soon follow. I’ve been saving all of my hunting energy for this upcoming month. These days will be cold and long. They’ll challenge our ability to stay in the tree stand, whether we’re wet or hungry. If you plan on hunting the beginning of the rut any place north of Kentucky you’ll have to do it with a bow. If you’re looking for me, that’s where I’ll be. I’m heading back to Missouri for deer and ducks and then maybe a quick stopover in Ohio. I should get home just in time for Kentucky and Virginia’s bruisers to start chasing a few does. Like everyone else, I’m dreaming big.
Even though some great memories will come from the days ahead, the best memories come from the juvenile hunts that are taking place right now. I happened to be at the checking station on Saturday to witness some of these young men and women with their harvest. It’s always an occasion for pride and pictures when one of the next generation of hunters bring home a buck or a doe. It’s not only a special day for dads and granddads, but it makes a permanent impression on each young hunter. It especially serves as a rite of passage for the young men who will one day need to take on the responsibility of being the primary provider for their family. He is the hunter.
Now I know that I may get some emails from some who believe in a gender-neutral society, and I know there are exceptions to every rule. But I’m still of the persuasion that men need to be men and women need to be women. I don’t think its society that makes a little boy want to be a superhero or makes him want to take his play sword and win the fight. And I don’t think its society that makes a little girl want to dress up and look pretty and stay away from worms. No, I think we’re different; equal in importance, but distinctly different in our roles and purposes. God made us that way and we need one another. I don’t mind if my wife hunts or fishes, but that’s not what turned my head over thirty years ago. It wasn’t her boat, but her beauty. And it was the fact that I could be her hero even if it was doing nothing but just showing how strong I was when she couldn’t open the pickle jar.

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