"gambling on a long shot"

          

 I opened the letter with the familiar anticipation of reading a member’s hunting story or perhaps the occasional complaint from a member in Omaha whose buddy received his Journal one day earlier than he did. What I read was nothing familiar. I read it again. "Jerry", I yelled. "Yeah", came his reply from the office across the hall. "You need to read this; I don't know what to make of it." Squirming out of the comfort of his chair I hear his gruff ole voice say, “you’re not still reading your resume’ are you?” Sometimes his words really do hurt.

What Terry Johnson was writing about was his passionate desire to show the men and women of the United States Armed Forces how much he appreciated their sacrifice and service to our great country. How did he plan to do it? By taking them hunting!

His letter went on to describe his disappointment with all the negative publicity that inevitably blankets our television screens and newspaper headlines in times of conflict. He felt that our soldiers who were returning from overseas deserved more appreciation and recognition for their service, and he was determined to offer whatever resources necessary to see that it happened. Motivated out of a love for country and a love of God, Terry Johnson was determined to show appreciation.  He recognizes that the price of freedom never comes cheap as thousands of men and women return home -forever changed; scarred by the brutality of war.

Any faithful Trophy Hunter member who has thumbed through the pages of the Journal has undoubtedly seen for themselves what unbelievable feats can be accomplished through the power of American pride and stubborn determination. I think all too often we at the Texas Trophy Hunters Association receive too much credit for this simple idea, which overnight, began receiving national acclaim and overwhelming support. Well, let me set the record straight. Although we are exceptionally proud to support what has been titled "The Show of Support Military Hunt", the idea was entirely Terry Johnson’s.

Terry has selflessly sacrificed his time, energy and resources, to make certain that a program like this could touch the lives of a few good soldiers. In 2004, two soldiers experienced the hunt of their dreams. In 2005, that number increased by 10. In November of that year all of these soldiers, most that had been severely wounded in battle, were honored in front of hundreds of supporters at the first annual Show of Support Banquet in Midland, Texas. All expenses for these brave soldiers were covered, including travel for them and their families, camouflage, the taxidermy work, and all received custom rifles with their names engraved on the barrel. So many people got involved in his program offering items, land resources, money, time and support. There is no way to mention all of those individuals and businesses which stood up to support Terry Johnson and this program, but they all deserve more than a thank you.

On rare occasions while traveling the road of life you meet someone who immediately has an impact on you. For me, Terry Johnson is one of those unique individuals. My first chance to rub shoulders with this great American came in March of 2005. You have heard the old cliché about someone being a "gentle giant"....well, pull out your Webster and look up the phrase, next to its meaning write Terry Johnson. The first time I shook his hand was memorable, I spent the next several minutes slowly moving each of my fingers to see which ones were left unbroken. The man looks like he was born to wear a leather jacket (a very large leather jacket) and ride the highways on a Harley. Until he bear hugs you and all traces of an outlaw suddenly disappear. It doesn’t take long to recognize a true man when you’re standing in his midst.

Along with his passion for America he has a great passion for hunting.  Earlier this season I had the privilege of hunting with Terry for the first time. I received an email in August from Terry inviting me to accompany him on a whitetail hunt outside of Sonora, Texas. I quickly accepted the invitation and marked my calendar so I could count down the days. I spent most of August on the road with our annual Hunters Extravaganza tour, and September found me still scattered about the country on business. Thinking of my first hunt of the year always puts a little pep in my step, for I knew that beyond the airport terminals and hotel walls there was a cabin waiting. Perhaps quiet and still now, but soon to be filled with laughter and stories, and slaps on the back after a successful hunt.

About one week before I was scheduled to leave for Sonora, I got a phone call from Terry. It seemed that one of the hunters Terry had invited would not be able to attend. Terry asked if I knew anyone who would like to go with us, and who might be available to take off four days on short notice. "Actually, I know just the person. Let me make a phone call."

"When do you want to leave, today, tomorrow?" was the response I got when I extended the invitation to my buddy and Boston Red Sox pitcher, Josh Beckett. "Well...he’s obviously in", I thought to myself as I grinned through the phone......Josh had just returned days earlier from a long baseball season, tired from months on the road, sore from thousands of pitches and disappointed that the season wasn’t extending into October, but another season was beginning to capture his imagination. He was eager to return to the thrill of a Texas white tail hunt. Josh and I have hunted together before and we have become very close friends. During the season my phone would often ring late at night after the team had returned to the hotel from the ballpark. Almost every conversation would start the same with "Got any trips lined up yet?” or "Is Texas getting any rain?" etc, etc. We usually always spent the entire conversation talking about hunting....It was almost time for the talking to stop and the hunting to begin.

I picked up Josh and we headed west down I-10, truck bed loaded with all the essentials including video equipment. Josh brought me up to date on highlights from this year’s season and life in Boston. I brought him up to date on what he had missed down here in Texas and talked about this year’s hunting forecast and as the mile markers flashed by me on the right, an old familiar feeling slowly began to settle in...It was finally hunting season, and I was about to share a long weekend becoming reacquainted with friends.

Around four in the afternoon we pulled into a service station in Sonora where we were met by Outfitter Frank Carter. I first met Frank a couple of years ago and it wasn’t long before our shared passion for hunting forged a friendship. I respected Frank before I ever met him, because through Terry I had heard how Frank was one of the biggest supporters of the Show of Support Military Hunt. Several of the hunts that have taken place since the programs inception were hosted on ranches where Frank runs his Guide and Outfitting service. With Frank was his friend and fellow hunting guide Tracy Fincher. I had met Tracy briefly once before on a ranch outside of San Angelo, and I was looking forward to spending more time with him. Since Tracy was to be paired with me as my guide, we were going to have the opportunity to get to know one another. At camp we met up with Terry and the rest of the crew. After a few refreshments and one of the tastiest rib eye steaks you can imagine (why is it that food always tastes its best at the deer camp?) we headed off to bed....we were hours away from our first hunt of 2006!

The stillness of the outdoors in the moments just before light is something to behold...in the darkness of the deer stand we strained our eyes to make out the four-legged silhouettes that were slowly gathering amongst the live oak and prickly pear. Through the breaths we took, which looked liked puffs of smoke in the cold morning air, we pleaded with the sun to stop taking its time in casting light on the distant figures. We saw several deer that morning, and even decided to pass on a mature main frame 12 point. He was quite lop-sided, which gave him a lot of character, but Tracy was not 100% convinced this was the best deer we would see this trip. The deer seemed comfortable with his surroundings, and since we had not disturbed him, we figured we could always come back if the next couple of hunts did not award us with something more to our liking. I enjoyed passing the morning away softly whispering back and fourth, commenting on the deer we saw, sharing stories of hunting trips, hearing Tracy tell about his full time job in law enforcement, and just really getting to know him better. He is a truly likeable guy, and it didn't take long to realize why he and Frank work so well together- he is a seasoned guide with great ability to judge deer. Back at camp we shared stories of the morning hunt over hamburgers and relentless ribbing of one another. Its funny how hours earlier several of the men gathered around this table were strangers. Now the cut-downs and jokes echoed through the small lodge like some college frat-house.

With the final morning hunt over, Tracy and I began to strategize as to what we would do that afternoon, the last hunt of the trip. Terry was determined to be faithful to the same spot where had hunted each day since our arrival. There was an old beautiful main frame nine point that he had glimpsed the first morning after our arrival. He was confident that this deer, with his incredible tines and mass, could score in the high 150's. He headed off to his familiar stand in search of this brute. Tracy decided we would go for broke. After several unsuccessful outings in ground blinds, he decided we would set up a tripod stand on the far north end of the ranch, an area that even he hadn't been to in months. This would work against us for several reasons, besides the fact the area had not been scouted in a long time. One, we had to find a place to set up the tripod, which would take time away from an already late start. Second, the tripod was the last one Tracy had left at camp, it was old and had seen better days. Third, we would have to set up the tripod as quickly and as quietly as possible, fourth, there was no place for Tracy, so he would have to crouch in the brush below me and hide behind a burlap netting he had brought along. Last, the tripod had no cover to conceal me. I would have to sit almost motionless, as I was completely unprotected by any walls or netting. As we bumped along the rough, un-traveled remains of a road in search of a spot to set the tripod, I couldn't help but ask again, "Why did you decide this was the best plan? Please remind me." Tracy looked at me and said, "Because we have hunted almost every pasture on this ranch. There are big deer here and we ain't seen 'em. They have to be here. If you can keep still and if we can get to a spot where the wind will work in our favor, you will shoot a big deer this evening."

I had my doubts....but I wasn't afraid to try anything at this point. Not 20 minutes after we set up the crude tripod, we saw movement. Several young bucks made their way across the opening in front of us. As the minutes ticked away, so did the likelihood of Tracy and I seeing the whitetail we were hoping for. Ever so still, I sat in that tripod, occasionally glancing down below me through the open floor to see how Tracy was fairing in his uncomfortable position. Then, suddenly, out of the darkening horizon and into the last rays of light which were hustling to catch up to the shadows, the buck we were hoping to see made an appearance. Almost like a phantom he appeared, head erect, and slowly eyeing his surroundings. I eased my head down to look below me. Tracy had seen him too! He had his forearm resting on his knee, with his thumb in the "up" position, a sign that signaled to me it was the one we wanted!

The buck was nearly two hundred yards away, but as I reached for my rifle I was concerned that one of the several young deer, who were less than 30 yards away, would catch my movement and make an announcement that warned of danger. With no netting around the base of the tripod, I had to move slower than ever. It was almost painful. Sure enough, one of the little bucks stomped, then snorted, and took all of his compadres with him. As I cussed the deer, I also said a thank you. This gave me the time I needed to get the gun up and in position, just hoping maybe they would come back. In less than a minute, the mature buck appeared again, alone. With less than three minutes of legal shooting light remaining, and struggling to balance my rifle against the rickety frame of this tripod long overdue for retirement- I cracked off a shot.

Glancing down at Terry through my facemask, I could see him grinning from ear to ear. That was all the reassurance I needed. He was watching through the binoculars and he saw that the shot had been well placed.

As I knelt beside this beautiful deer, my mind raced back to the afternoon and all that had taken place this weekend. Tracy took a long-shot gamble and it paid off. Not many variables were in our favor, yet somehow it all came together like it was written in a script. I thanked Tracy and we hugged one another, overwhelmed by the incredible hunt. We counted several long tines among the total of 10 points, and commented on the width and character of this awesome west Texas buck.  Back at camp, our joy was increased as we could see Terry and Josh proudly standing near the bed of a truck with the deer that Terry had been hunting the entire trip. His beautiful 9 pointer would score higher than he imagined. The deer had several kickers and he carried his amazing mass with him almost to the last tine.

Words fail in adequately expressing the experience of fellowship in the great outdoors. It’s a place where strangers become friends, old friends grow closer and new experiences become stories that will later be relived with exaggeration. The sun was setting on another awesome hunting experience. Three hunters were headed home where the rewards of the hunt will take up residence on their respective walls. But the memories of this trip will live on in our hearts long after the dust has collected on the antlers.

As my head lights lit up the night skies and the miles rolled along I began thinking about the privileges of freedom and about our soldiers who fight to keep us free. Without their sacrifices there would be no hunting experience. Since the founding of this great country there has always been those men and women who bravely sacrifice so that generations to come might enjoy the privileges of freedom. May we never take for granted their sacrifice. May God bless our soldiers and may God bless America.