<TITLE>10. Par 37-39</TITLE>L-37 You take an old sow hog, and she's got her shucks over on the north side of the hill. And you read the commentator--news commentator, on the radio or in the paper, says, "Tomorrow it's going to be a fair, pretty day." And that old sow will take them shucks off that north side of the hill around to the south side of the hill. You watch. She knows more about it than all the newspapers and commentaries in the world. You watch it turn cold.
You watch when you go to hunt rabbits, and see them getting way back under the brush piles and things like that, and getting a hiding place, and setting back in the holes; and the commentary says it's going to be fair weather. Don't you believe that. That rabbit knows more about it than all them guys put together. He's trusting a God-given instinct. It's God making a way for His creation. And how much higher is a creation of a man than a creation of a beast. How much more is the Holy Ghost to the church, than instinct would be to a duck, or a horse, or anything. I could take two hours on it.

L-38 One more thing I'd like to strike. That's where I first found God. That was my first Bible to see there had to be something do these things. God is in His universe. How I love sunsets: stand and watch the sunset and cry; watch it raise, and cry. I love it.
I made a remark last night about being a hunter. I like to hunt. I've hunted since I was a little boy. I've hunt the world over: Africa, India, and everywhere. Many of you know of Bud Branham in the Rainy Pass Lodge at Anchorage, Alaska, sixteen planes flying in. That's my cousin. Come from a line of hunters and we love it. It's right in us. We love to hunt.
I used to go up in Colorado, where I herd cattle up there for a long time on a ranch. And there, bringing them roundups in and out... Mr. Jefferies, may be setting right here this afternoon: just lives right over here in Idaho now.
And so he and I used to go up there together and hunt, hunt elk. I love to hunt them. We had about eighty in a herd back there. We just took what--one each year for what we needed, and the herd built big. So therefore, Mr. Jefferies is a real woodsman. He knowed how to hunt. He knowed all the ins-and-outs.
I'd helped salt the cattle, and drive them in there, and round them up, and so forth. I knowed every angle back over on the Continental Divide, coming around where you cross Berthoud Pass, go down, then cross Rabbit Ear Pass. The Continental Divide comes in a panoramic. The Troublesome River feeds down this way, and the Hereford Association grazes this valley, and there's a east and west forks.
We'd go up the east fork, tie our horses, and separate, and come plumb down the west fork, miles and miles and miles away, maybe not see one another for several days, hunting.

L-39 One year I was up there hunting. I'd get way up, just as high as I could climb, set there of an evening when the sun goes down. And, oh, my. You talk about God. I was up there one day. It was dry. The elk hadn't come down yet; not enough snow and stuff to bring them down. They're a wild critter. They stay high, 'cause they don't want to get down around civilization. It takes snow and stuff to drive them down sometimes.
Then when... I was up there walking around, looking. And I tied my horse way down that morning, went plumb up around the timberline, making a big circle, coming down to what we call Lost Canyon, and down through that way. No tenderfoot gets in there, why, it's too far for him.
So way back in there, I was walking. And I had my rifle, and I was walking along there, and it come up a--a storm. You know how it is high in the mountains. It'll storm, and then snow, and then melt off, and the wind will blow, and the sun will shine. All kinds of weather in October up there, changing all the time. So it hadn't had enough snow to drive them down, so I was near the timberline.


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