Nearly 40 years ago I learnt that I am a hunter, I was born to hunt. Hunting is a fundamental part of who I am, it's mandatory.
But here's the kicker, the killing part is optional.
I once read somewhere “Unfortunately in todays society, all too often ego has replaced honour, and many are whores to it”. Sad but true, and I see it all too often in the “Hunting” scene too. The success of too many hunts seems to be based whether anything was killed, or by the size of the bag, or the “score” of the animal.
Wasn’t it the late great Mr. Fred Bear who said “A downed animal is most certainly the object of any bow hunt, but it becomes an anticlimax when compared to the many other pleasures of the hunt”
To me hunting is not just about the kill; it’s about the entire experience, not just parts of it. It’s about the place, the vista, participating in the outdoors, in something bigger than myself. It’s about the history of bow hunting and the traditions of fair chase. It’s about all the highs and the lows of the days, and about the stalk and what happens during it. It’s about being able to keep a positive attitude about the bug bites, the sore knees from crawling and the unpleasantness of being wet and cold, or hot and exhausted. It’s about the sights, sounds and smells, the feeling of carrying a good bow, and enjoying your own company and the company of a mate or two who might also be there. It’s about going to sleep to the sounds of the bush night, and sleeping the sleep of one who is weary yet utterly content, and waking up early, excited and hungry for what-ever experience the new day has in store.
Small game, big game or dangerous game, the physical measurements or score of the animal is immaterial. If fortunate enough to find, stalk and eventually take a “big” scoring animal, that would be an added bonus no doubt, but high scoring trophies are definitely not a priority. Getting in close to an “old” animal and having the animal unaware of my proximity ranks far higher than does the score, because to me, a "trophy" is simply one of the many memento’s of the hunt, not the object of the hunt. Any mature game animal, taken fairly with my longbow is a worthy trophy in itself anyway.
What-ever other memento’s I may take home from the bush will bring back memories. Memories of the terrain and the way the breeze rippled through the bush, of the adrenalin rush with the first glimpse of the quarry, and of the heat of the sun on our backs as we closed in. It will bring back memories of seeing the animal up close, of the excitement of the stalk to get into a position where an arrow can be loosed. Memories of each stalk, whether game was taken or not, as there is no such a thing as an unsuccessful stalk. Memories of the flight of the arrow or arrows, and of the follow-up and tracking the blood trail. Memories of approaching the fallen animal and that strange combination of emotions, great joy tinged with genuine sadness, and sincere respect for the creature whose life I have just taken. Memories of the hand shaking in the field, the celebration around the campfire at night and the re-telling of the hunt, and memories of the wonderful individuals who shared an important part of this great adventure.
So, if I am blessed and do get to take an animal, I will take home so much more than just some meat or horns or a skin to lay on the floor. And if, for what-ever reason, I don’t make a kill, I’m more than okay with that. I have been at peace, spending time in the bush, and I am richer for it. What goes back home with me is way more than simply empty food containers and some dirty clothes.
The noted naturalist Aldo Leupold once penned something like this : “What was big was not the trout, but the chance; what was full was not my creel, but my memory”.
I think that sums it up returning home empty handed quite nicely.
Best
Lex
Topic: Some musings on "Why do I hunt?" (Read 1579 times)
