conservation

Like St. Hubert, conservationists are called to conversion

Centuries ago, a man was stalking a magnificent stag in the woods, skipping out on Good Friday prayer. The stag stopped and looked right at the hunter — the sort of moment that gets our blood pumping and our limbs shaking. Some call it buck fever. For Hubertus, it was a calling.

In the basket of the stag's glorious rack was a glowing crucifix. He heard a voice warning him to turn to God or face eternity in hell.

GOD'S OUTDOORS | A prehistoric fish is modern fare

In a marsh oxbow that was formed long before Europeans settled the confluence of two great North American Rivers, an ancient fish — a gar — skulked among the reeds and weeds, hunting for his prey.

On the bank of the marsh, I skulked with a bow — a modern version of an ancient sporting tool — hunting that ancient hunter.

Stewardship of God's creation is integral to hunting, fishing

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Just before the sun peeked over the horizon, a group of ducks circled overhead. A few greeting calls and a feed chuckle kept them interested for a pass. Then another. Then another.

"Take 'em!"

Eight shots. Five ducks.

This stewardship of wildlife gets in the blood. It's exhilarating, the food is good, and it helps manage wildlife — the whole "dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air" thing (Genesis 1:29).

Stewardship?

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