by Rocky Whiting
We sat high in a pair of pine trees, archery hunting black bear. The tops of the Utah mountains wore the white of winter; the lower elevations donned the green of spring.
The sun was low and the air was cooling. My brother Drew whispered, “Do you pray in the stand?” I replied, “Yes.” End of conversation – nothing more to explain. We were never taught that the stand is a good place to pray, but we both naturally found our way to that conclusion.
Hunting provides a rare opportunity to slow down and reflect on things that are important but not urgent. It’s meditative to overlook beautiful country while it’s quiet and you’re still. Taking in a grand landscape stirs the inner part of me that wants to reach into the sunset to ask it a question, and tell it thank you.
From an early age, hunting prayers were modeled for me. When I was ten, my older brother, Travis, and I were whitetail hunting together on our family ranch in central Texas. A reasonable buck came out and Travis let me take the shot. We got down from the stand but the buck left no sign of a hit. Travis suggested we say a prayer. He asked for help that we find the “beast of the wild.” I liked that phrase. We didn’t find the deer, but the part I remember is the prayer.
A few years later, I sat solo on a foggy morning. The stand was a simple wooden platform in the cradle of a huge, multi-forked pecan tree. The rifle rest was a 2×4 nailed into two huge branches. It was the best stand on the property as it overlooked three fields and the edge of a creek. I sat on a wooden World War II ammunition box and bargained with God that if He would send a buck my way, I would clean up my foul language. I had good intentions, and I really believed it would work. God sent me a lesson on patience instead of a buck. I guess that was more important to Him.
In 2020, my son, Jack, and I were hunting near Medina, Texas. I knew there were a couple of bucks coming in and I expected this to be a short hunt. A small, white-horned eight-point stepped out on script. I paused Jacks Nintendo and nudged him to look at the buck through the rifle scope. As the buck turned broadside, I gave the go-ahead for Jack to shoot. Jack aimed carefully and squeezed the trigger. The deer kicked in the air and ran to our left, out of sight quickly. We could hardly wait the few minutes before we got down to look for blood. Our eyes studied the ground as we slowly walked along the path we saw the deer run. We found no blood, hair or distinguishable tracks. It wasn’t looking promising. We started walking in large circles looking for the horizontal white underbelly of a fallen deer. Jack was discouraged and I was trying not to be. We offered up a prayer in which I used the phrase “beast of the wild.” We kept searching with a glimmer of hope from the prayer.
We walked through thick vegetation headed for the truck, camo hats low, shoulders slumped. I queued up a conversation my Grandpa had with us every time our shots missed. It starts with, “You know, there’s more space around a deer than there is space that is a deer.” As those words were passing my lips, we walked by something that caught my eye. I glanced to my five o’clock, and to my surprise and elation, we walked mere feet from an eight-point with a precision shot in the vitals. Our moods went from the dirt to the tree tops as we high-fived and hugged over a perfect first buck.
Do I pray in the deer stand? Yes, I can’t constrain myself. My years of hunting have taught me that it is a valuable time to pray. When I clear my mind long enough to feel peace, I leave with something better than an animal. The stand strengthens my relationship with God and those I love. Occasionally, the person climbing down is a little bit better than the person who climbed up.
