The flooding Middle Fork with part of our land under water.
Psalm 18:16-18 KJVS
He sent from above, he took me, he drew me out of many waters.
The darkness of the pre-dawn was accented by the sound of the waters as they lowly roared and passed over the shoals and around the trees as they rushed southward.
I was in my canoe and headed across the Middle Fork for a deer hunt on the west side of the river. One hundred feet above me on the ridge an early morning light shone from the windows of our home on the ridge above the River.
To have both hands free for paddling I had the flashlight clamped in my teeth. This was before the days of the strapped on head lamp. To avoid being swept downstream by the strong current it was necessary to keep the bow of the seventeen foot canoe pointed directly up stream. Should I ever get sideways to the current I would lose control. Ever so slowly I sculled the craft across with the centerline parallel to the current. Whew! Glad that was over. I still remember the light beam as it shown on the bouncing brown waters of the flooding stream.
Being much younger then the risk seemed subservient to the desire to hunt the western grounds beyond the water. In youth everything is subservient to desire I think. At the west Bank I pulled the canoe up into a draw made by a drainage that fed there into the stream. It was below ground level and unless you were right there the craft was well hidden from view. Besides there were few if any wandering hunters around this Ara of no roads or trails.
I spent the entire day alternately still hunting, slowly stalking that is, and sitting at likely locations waiting for a deer to pass by me. I'd killed many deer on that side of the river for in those days there were no roads into the area and I had it mostly to myself. That day was not to be a day that I brought home the bacon or the venison either.
As the sun lowered itself in the twilight of that November day I made my way through the brush and hardwoods back to the place where I'd crossed the stream before light. At the place where the canoe was resting I was shocked to find nothing there. It was gone, plain and simple. Unbelief caused me to look again. Out of all the places for a wandering hunter to happen upon, the needy soul had happened upon my very convenient ferry. That they had taken it knowing that the owner would be stranded with no way across was a thought that was not quite so pleasant. Sin always says forget the others. They'll just have to deal with it.
After a few minutes of intestinal turmoil and staring at the darkening waters I made my decision. I knew where the water was shallowest at the shoal so I'd just have to try and go across there. It was so swift there was no way I could swim it. Bundling up my possibles and rifle above my head I stepped into the coldness of the Middle Fork. Off in the distance a quarter mile away a light shone way above the blackening River bottom. My home and wife awaited me there. So so near yet so far.
The roar of the water was deafening. The bottom of the stream is rock and gravel and as I would make a small step I could feel the current taking away small stones and gravel as they swept around my foot. For a few feet the water was about waist deep but by twenty or more feet out it had reached just a few inches shy of five feet, up to my arm pits. Surely God was setting my feet on a firm foundation at every step.
Never had I placed my feet so carefully and never had I transferred weight from one leg to another with such care and precision. The current was swifter midstream and the dislodged gravel and small stones at each step felt as if a, woodpecker was drumming away on my hunting boots.
After what seemed an eternity the water began to get more shallow and the current was not quite as swift. Continuing in my most careful way I crossed those last yards of current. It was fully dark now but God had taken me safely across. Thanks be to God the flood had not overcome me. Stepping out of the water on the home side of the flood was a such a relief I can't describe it. Had I been swept away there was a good chance I'd never have been found. Closer now, the light from home seemed brighter, really accessible.
I made my way as I sloshed in my cold soggy clothes across the bottom and began my ascent up the same ridge that the Osage had used one hundred fifty years getting from the river to the high ground.
The next day after asking my neighbors as to my canoe I found that none of them had seen anything. But a couple of days later one of them came by and said he'd found my canoe pulled up into the brush a half mile down stream from my crossing point. Upon fetching it I found a few empty 30 caliber brass casings in the bottom. The thief had apparently fired off a few victory rounds as he paddled his aluminum salvation across the water.
After carrying it home I drove to the low water bridge a mile south of our home. The water had been over the scant wooden structure but now ran just below it. It was midday and there was a man who was shooting at random objects as he stood in the middle of the hundred foot long structure. I found that he was a hunter staying with several others at the home of the neighbor who had "found" my canoe.
While up close conversing with him I took note that the young man was shooting a 30 caliber carbine, the very same caliber as the empty casings and a not so common gun. Walking over to my truck I stopped and watched the man for a few minutes as he continued to shoot. I climbed in and returned to our home above the flood.
Psalm 144:7 KJVS
Send thine hand from above; rid me, and deliver me out of great waters, from the hand of strange children;.
