There’s nothing quite like rolling out of bed before the sun has peeked in at the windows, rubbing your eyes, throwing on some old clothes, and meeting the morning with a gun in your hand.

Snap. I didn’t quite miss that stick. I must watch the ground more closely. But, I don’t want to miss something, like… that!

“Dad! Look!”

There, silhouetted against the skyline, was a doe deer.

But in just a moment, she was gone again.

I sit at my favorite perch: leaning up against the railroad tie fence post, with the “No Hunting” sign tacked right above my head.

My eyes glance to and fro through the little valley, careful not to leave any spot unobserved for more than a few seconds.

Then I notice a strange sight. Water splashing up from the midst of a mud puddle!

Upon closer inspection I find that a bird is making use of the “natural” bird bath created by ruts from Daddy’s equipment.

Then a ladybug comes to visit me. I watch, amused, as he tries to maneuver the confusing surface of my wool gloves.

I didn’t see any more deer this morning. Which is why Daddy likes to call it “quality time with my gun.”

Granted, it’s not as fun as quality time with someone special.

But these early-morning hunts usually become quality time with my Savior, singing (silent, lest I scare the deer!) praises in awe of His spectacular creation.

And that is a wonderful time indeed…