By Art Smith
When asked why I hunt, many thoughts come to mind. The question, which I ask myself many times while in the solitude of the woods, is easy for me to answer. Yet, to put the words down on paper that will convey the deep feelings I have about hunting will not be easy.
When I think of hunting, a feeling washes over me that is hard to describe. I think it might be the memory of past generations of hunters welling up in my soul and the knowledge that it is only right that we pursue game for the table to feed our families and to store up food for the long cold winter months. Even though today there is no absolute need to harvest meat for the table, we as human beings — and hunters — still have the drive to pit our ability as hunters against those of our prey.
As in times past when the need to put food on the table to survive was the norm, there were those that excelled in the pursuit of game and those that were better suited to gather crops or build shelter. I find myself in the company of the former and am proud to say so.
For more than 40 years, I have looked forward to the hunt with such chest-tightening anticipation that at times I thought I was going to bust. The sleepless nights before the opener are delicious times to remember and look forward to. The gathering of the hunters in camp early in the morning before the hunt are some of the fondest memories of my outdoor experience. The solitude of the wilderness with all of its glory is one of the things that no regular job or vacation can even come close to duplicating. Pitting my skills as a hunter against that of the animal I am hunting and succeeding in taking him with a clean, well-placed shot fulfills the desire of the hunter that lies just below the surface of my daily life. The company of like-minded people in camp in the mornings and evening after the hunt is another thing that puts such a desire in my heart for hunting.
Nowhere else can people connect on a level that is the norm in hunting camp. The help one receives from other hunters about how to hunt and the knowledge that is passed on in hunting camps across the world are amazing. Hunters are eager to share what they have learned and have a need to share this knowledge with others, especially the younger generations.
Nonetheless, the reasons why I hunt have changed much over the past 40 years. I remember the early days of my hunting when the killing of game for bragging rights was high on the list of priorities. When we were children, just getting a look at a whitetail during deer season was something that we talked about in school for weeks, and the few boys that actually got a shot at a deer really made a buzz in the locker and lunch room. Then one year, an acquaintance actually killed a legal buck, and when we gathered in his garage to admire his hanging trophy, all I could think of was that it really was possible to shoot a buck in the farm lands of my boyhood. I hunted all through my teen years without a shot at a buck. In fact, I did not shoot a buck until I was in my late 20s. But every year I was out there in pursuit of the whitetail. After the first buck was taken, it seems that the next 25 or so were much easier. The fact is that nowadays I’m not into the killing of game as much as the pursuit of it.
These days I look forward to passing on the heritage of hunting to the next generation. When we gather for breakfast on opening morning and I see the look of excitement in the eyes of the young hunters at the table, memories of my own younger flood over me to the point that I want to freeze the moment and live it forever. But of course that is not possible. I fill the boys up with a good breakfast and send them on their way into the woods and cornfields nearby. Then I make the long hike back to my blind to wait for the sun to come up over the familiar horizon and hope I hear the sound of one of the boy’s guns. Sometimes that’s what I hear, and when I do, I think that my heart will beat right out of my chest knowing what they are feeling. Yes, I know what they are feeling in that space and time, for they have the heart of a hunter beating in their chest like I do.
Lately I have had the opportunity to go on several out-of-state big-game hunts with outfitters. What a joy to look forward to a trip with family and friends to some unknown area and hunt big game that I have read about all my life. The wilderness camps and horseback pack trains are the stuff of memories, and the taking of a large moose, caribou, elk, bear or antelope is something you don’t soon forget. Yes, the hunts have sure changed the past 40 years, but in many ways they haven’t changed at all. In this life we are given, we must change with its ebb and flow. Forty years ago as a boy on the farm in Michigan, if you had told me I was going to hunt moose in Alberta or elk in Idaho, I would have said you were crazy; but that is what I have had the good fortune to do.
Why I hunt. What a question to ask a hunter! Even now I feel the tightness in my chest just thinking of how fortunate we are as hunters to be able to go afield and pursue game in the most free and greatest nation in the world. How fortunate we are that others thought of us 100 years ago and passed laws that made hunting available to us today. I think of Teddy Roosevelt as one who saw the future and had the courage to stand up and do what was right on behalf of future generations of hunters. We owe him and others like him a huge amount of gratitude for what they have done.
Now we must step up to the plate and make sure that we protect and manage our hunting heritage to pass on to the next generation of hunters and even the generations not born yet. Then they too can experience the sleepless night before the opener and the camaraderie of hunting camp.
We must be on guard against those that would take that experience away from the following generations. We need to be able to ask our grandchildren and their grandchildren the same question you have asked us and have them answer that question in their own words: Why do you hunt?
