Today I shared with someone my excitement over signing up for a 14-day horseback sheep hunt, one I've dreamed about since I was a kid reading Jack O'Connor articles in Outdoor Life. (I didn't know about Gordon Eastman back then). If it actually comes to pass, it will be more money by far than I've ever spent on myself.
They did not share my enthusiasm.
So many times when I mention that I enjoy hunting people look at me with horror and ask how I could enjoy killing those wonderful animals, as if there is something sinister in me they just can't relate to. Do I put their heads on my wall, they ask? Shudder.
I don't enjoy killing. I enjoy being in the outdoors. So why don't I take up photography or just hike with the Sierra Club?
Because I'm a man and many of us men love challenges and sport with all of it's strategy and competition. I love growing in knowledge and skill and accomplishing something, whether it's gaining a client, winning at a card game or taking a big deer. While some women enjoy hunting, most just don't get the sport of it.
What they might get is the love of sharing the outdoors with friends and family. They might get the serenity of sitting in the woods, watching and waiting and observing the otherwise unnoticed details of the natural world with all the designs and natural instincts that form an irrefutable testimony to the Genius behind a masterfully designed web of interdependent life. Darting squirrels that jump from branch to branch or scurry along the ground a ways, sounding too much like deer. Birds that alight nearby and sing for a short while, ants carrying food back to their colony, geese honking and the sound of their powerful wings as they pass by, hawks that circle on thermals looking for prey, an owl that appears from nowhere and glides quickly and silently through the woods. A coyote that briefly trots through your world in pursuit of small mammals.
I like training for a goal and making it. I like months spent anticipating the pursuit, the strategizing and the preparation. I like the time away from the day to day grind, time to be spent in grand spaces that literally bring tears to my eyes. I love being worn out at the end of a day and feeling so hungry I'm almost sick, tasting food with a delight that only hungry men know and calming a harsh thirst with something icy cold.
All this and managing wildlife so that it thrives, paying for conservation and habitat improvement and good clean sport for future generations.
With the satisfaction of making my goal there is always some bit of sadness at the death of my quarry. Contrary to exaggerated opinion, we don't smear blood on ourselves, drink it or beat our chests and give out primal screams (well, ok, we might do the last two over a real trophy).
No one I know likes being up to their chin and shoulders in offal, or skinning, quartering and especially packing out a big game animal. I do like knowing I put down a mature animal late in his life with one quick, humane, well-placed shot.
I donate most of my game meat, whether I hunt in-state or out and I like knowing I am blessing people that could use a little help, especially with healthy meat free of all the who knows what that infects the meat with the USDA sticker atop the platic wrap and the foam plate.
When men enjoy the great tradition of hunting for those reasons, I understand where they are coming from, whether others do or not.
Why do you hunt?
They did not share my enthusiasm.
So many times when I mention that I enjoy hunting people look at me with horror and ask how I could enjoy killing those wonderful animals, as if there is something sinister in me they just can't relate to. Do I put their heads on my wall, they ask? Shudder.
I don't enjoy killing. I enjoy being in the outdoors. So why don't I take up photography or just hike with the Sierra Club?
Because I'm a man and many of us men love challenges and sport with all of it's strategy and competition. I love growing in knowledge and skill and accomplishing something, whether it's gaining a client, winning at a card game or taking a big deer. While some women enjoy hunting, most just don't get the sport of it.
What they might get is the love of sharing the outdoors with friends and family. They might get the serenity of sitting in the woods, watching and waiting and observing the otherwise unnoticed details of the natural world with all the designs and natural instincts that form an irrefutable testimony to the Genius behind a masterfully designed web of interdependent life. Darting squirrels that jump from branch to branch or scurry along the ground a ways, sounding too much like deer. Birds that alight nearby and sing for a short while, ants carrying food back to their colony, geese honking and the sound of their powerful wings as they pass by, hawks that circle on thermals looking for prey, an owl that appears from nowhere and glides quickly and silently through the woods. A coyote that briefly trots through your world in pursuit of small mammals.
I like training for a goal and making it. I like months spent anticipating the pursuit, the strategizing and the preparation. I like the time away from the day to day grind, time to be spent in grand spaces that literally bring tears to my eyes. I love being worn out at the end of a day and feeling so hungry I'm almost sick, tasting food with a delight that only hungry men know and calming a harsh thirst with something icy cold.
All this and managing wildlife so that it thrives, paying for conservation and habitat improvement and good clean sport for future generations.
With the satisfaction of making my goal there is always some bit of sadness at the death of my quarry. Contrary to exaggerated opinion, we don't smear blood on ourselves, drink it or beat our chests and give out primal screams (well, ok, we might do the last two over a real trophy).
No one I know likes being up to their chin and shoulders in offal, or skinning, quartering and especially packing out a big game animal. I do like knowing I put down a mature animal late in his life with one quick, humane, well-placed shot.
I donate most of my game meat, whether I hunt in-state or out and I like knowing I am blessing people that could use a little help, especially with healthy meat free of all the who knows what that infects the meat with the USDA sticker atop the platic wrap and the foam plate.
When men enjoy the great tradition of hunting for those reasons, I understand where they are coming from, whether others do or not.
Why do you hunt?