“Whether they come from the other side of the globe or the other side of town, America’s future hunters won’t necessarily look, think or vote like those of the past or present. As they begin venturing out into the woods, their fresh new voices will transform our dialogue about what hunting means in twenty-first century America.” — Al Cambronne, Deerland
The set of large deer prints imprinted upon a fresh white tapestry of snow drew me farther into the primeval forest. Enticed and more than curious, this tracker wanted desperately to catch up with the maker. The proposition of being completely engaged in the hunting process was alluring. Escaping the comfort and convenience of modern life and venturing into virgin country in utter solitude, far removed from the ting-tong of the cowbell, if only for the day, was refreshing. Some would believe this to be a dangerous enterprise — a foolish thought that should be quickly dismissed — while others might opine about how archaic and impractical this method has become. After all, these are big woods that extend all the way to perhaps the tundra with few roads, where you could easily get lost. And what if I shot the buck I was pursuing way back in the big bush? What then? How would I hope to extract him from his final resting place? Today, this type of deer hunting, which takes the pursuer beyond a well-marked trail, has been dubbed the new extreme sport. What? Extreme? Our ancestral hunters would be rolling their eyes to learn that the manner in which they procured their venison is now classified as an elite, specialized tactic practiced by a few adventurers. Indeed, much has changed, especially in the past quarter-century, where, at times, just keeping pace with the newest trend was an exercise. So where are we headed? What does our deer hunting future look like? Have we exhausted our ability to create something new and beneficial to harvest deer? Before making claims to our future, we must ask ourselves what kind of influence we’ve had on those following our footsteps. What lasting mark will we leave? Although not easily seen or immediately recognizable, what we do today is a foreshadowing of what the next generation will build upon. Let’s look at how this has happened during our rich deer hunting history.
The Past
James A. Swan, author of The Sacred Art of Hunting, wrote, “The hunting story is one of the most basic elements of culture, as basic as the love story, and perhaps even older. A good story of the hunter’s quest captivates the listener, engages mind and emotions, engraves lessons in the mind, and kindles the campfires of the soul, because the hunter is a hero, symbolically and mythically, as well as in real life.” The deer hunters of yesteryear not only knew how to tell a great story, they had great stories to tell. These dyed-in-the-wool huntsmen lived and breathed for each titillating moment of their deer hunting quests. As Frank Forester wrote, “The deer hunter is the epitome of manliness and independence, whose untrammeled sense of individual will and power opposed the decadent corruptions of modern civilization. … A man of energy, and iron will, and daring spirit, tameless, enthusiastic, ardent, adventurous, chivalric, free — a man made of the stuff that fills the mold of heroes.” These were men that intimately knew the game they pursued and possessed little fear of the vast forests they tramped. In fact, when on the hunt, they seldom gave up, as the German-born deer-slayer Miller wrote in his hunting journal: “I walked home. But where was my home? Wherever I happened to be — where I had erected a bark shed, or spread my blanket, or lighted a fire, or where the hospitable roof of a farmer or back-woodsman received me; though the next morning might find me with all my goods on my back — no heavy burden — seeking a new deer shooting ground, and a new home.” They were also men of mettle who enjoyed the chase to capture their prize, as written by Judge John Dean Caton: “The pleasure of the sportsman in the chase is measured by the intelligence of the game and its capacity to elude pursuit and in the labor involved in the capture. It is a contest with sharp wits where satisfaction is mingled with admiration for the object overcome.” And chase they did. We find by their accounts that early trackers William Earl and his partner E.N. Woodcock were “seldom in camp until after dark,” and once in pursuit of a fine stag, “hustled from early morning until long after dark.” Huntsmen of our past paid little regard to their comfort. In fact, according to Archibald Rutledge, “If a man be a hunter born, he will tolerate an astonishing number of inconveniences in order to gratify his sense of sport.” So much so as George Laycock pointed out, “They could pillow on the earth and sleep unsheltered under the canopy of heaven without thinking it a hardship.” Lacking all of the modern trappings that are so prevalent today, these hunters of resolve faced many hardships. When detailing his great-grandfather’s hunting exploits, R. Getty Browning wrote, “His hunting expeditions must have been seriously affected by sudden climatic changes and the difficulties in traveling on foot through the snow for long distances in zero weather must have demanded the greatest resolution and endurance, even for one so strong and active as he was.” But that was then.
The Present
This is now. Cambronne wrote, “If deer have adapted to this new habitat, so has a new breed of hunters.” Whitetails and the pursuit of them have been exploited to a level that most of us could never have imagined. With more free time, disposable income and a burgeoning population of deer, reaching more than 30 million nationwide, deer hunters spend upward of six billion dollars annually on the hunt. Little could we have envisioned how the entrepreneurial spirit of the sporting industry would rise and even soar to meet the increasing demands of the deer hunting public. Like it or not, hunting has changed dramatically with the introduction of these advantages. Even the late George Mattis foretold of this shift well before much of what we see today was invented: “Convenience is the public cry in hunting. … Today’s sportsman is so pampered with such an array of gadgets and attire for ease and comfort that deer hunting is no longer a privilege of the hardy outdoor clan. … The practical deer hunters, and especially the newcomers, come to hunt the game animal where it is most plentiful, and many a bag is filled without the hunter straying a quarter of a mile from his parked car, a farm field, or a side road. The task of dragging in a deer killed even a mile back in from any road is becoming the exception today.” Taking this to the extreme, Roger Phillips stated in his back-country hunting post, “Some hunters use every advantage they legally can to make it easier to find, kill and haul out deer.” So much so that he wrote, “There weren’t ATVs — possibly even four-wheel-drive pickups — back in grandpa’s time, not to mention game cameras, Gore-Tex, Google Earth, GPS, laser range-finders or other high-tech hunting gear that is common these days. Hunters didn’t have the option of driving an ATV to a blind the size of a studio apartment and shooting a buck that came to an automated feeder, which was also scouted via remote camera with a computer up-link.” Landowners realized their acreage was far more valuable left as whitetail habitat and opted to lease rather than develop. The back-40s on many farms have been transformed into veritable smorgasbords of planted delicacies for deer, thanks in large part to companies such as the Whitetail Institute, a company that has helped a generation of land managers become more knowledgeable and successful. Can what we are experiencing today as deer hunters be sustained? After all, change is inevitable. According to Dr. Timothy Nuttle, “We’ve burned, logged, plowed, paved, and tampered. There’s no single perfect natural state to which we can return. But if we can’t go back, we can at least move forward.”
The Future
If the pace of technology and entrepreneurial ventures is any indication of how quickly the landscape of deer hunting is morphing, I share the sentiments of Ray Scott, founder and president of the Whitetail Institute: “I can only imagine what environment my youngest grandson will inherit.” Yet, it might not be as revolutionary as we might think. James Kroll shared this thought: “We now refer (present) to our pastime as 'sport hunting' or 'recreational hunting.' We prefer the latter. Because the drive to hunt is one of the strongest instincts, we doubt seriously if the true motivation is ‘sport.’ Rather, it allows us to be re-created (future) in the image of our forefathers (past). The modern hunter admittedly does not depend on wild game for survival. Yet, like his predecessors, he still takes chances, hoping to discover new strategies that add only a few points to the odds. It is the challenge, not the kill, that motivates the best in our sport.” Although it's difficult, if not impossible, to predict the future, especially regarding something over which we only have partial control, we can at least offer possibilities based on current trends. Cambronne offered a sensible prediction when he wrote: “The briefest glimpse inside America’s deer-industrial complex reveals countless examples of the hard work and entrepreneurial spirit that made America great. It also reveals other aspects of our national character. Some of us seek new challenges, and some of us seek new shortcuts. Still, deer hunting remains a great American tradition enjoyed by rich and poor alike — for now…. For the foreseeable future, then, we’ll be counting on hunters, and quite possibly fewer of them, to help reduce or at least maintain our present deer populations. But if smaller populations of hunters continue to hope they’ll see more deer with less effort, and if politicians continue to give them what they want, then balance will remain elusive.” However, knowing the human spirit, which is never satisfied and becomes easily bored, we look for new challenges, even if they are not really new. Pop-rocker Dave Matthews supported that when he wrote, “We’re awed by the wonders of technology. The accomplishments we’ve made to bring us closer together by plane, road or satellite are fantastic. What I fear most is that while we play with our toys and technologies, we forget where our playfulness comes from.” We seek “new and better,” when in reality, it’s the same; it only looks different. Mattis recognized that we are still a frontier people enmeshed in modern technology, who seek better hunting grounds only to find there are none. He then cautions that we’ll have to do with what we have, but will have to do it more wisely. Wildlife photographer Mike Biggs wrote, “Will technology eventually create such an artificiality that it could destroy the mystique that brought us here in the first place? For most of us, the real frontier of whitetail enlightenment lies in the accurate perception of their lives and times — the true understanding of how whitetails live, develop, behave and age under natural circumstances. We want the knowledge. We need the mystery.”
Full Circle
The imprints led down a small incline, across a shallow brook and up through a labyrinth of head-high fir trees. As I slunk out from the confines of the fir jungle and began to climb, the buck, in one powerful motion, burst from his bed not 20 yards away. In the midst of flying snow debris, I leveled my rifle, and as the buck stretched out in full flight from his second bound, I fired. The contrast of the crimson droplets against a white backdrop made trailing the animal easy. Topping a rise in the terrain, I spotted my prize. There he lay in the eight inches of snow, head up, seemingly alert and ready to vault once again. Taking careful aim, I sent the final volley, which served to anchor the buck without him rising again. Crouching next to the behemoth of a buck, I heard the lone crescendo of a wolf howling in the distance. It was a lonely sound, an echo that served to break my euphoric trance. As I gazed about my surroundings, unfamiliar for sure, I realized I was miles from my vehicle and, according to my GPS, more than a mile from the nearest road. Despite the work that was ahead of me and the distance I’d have to drag, I was, in that moment, deep in the forest, never more satisfied … or more content.
