It is my father’s fault I am a cold
blooded killer. Then again, I am sure he never envisioned me turning out this
way. He would say he was simply passing
on a family tradition, showing me the way he had been taught by his father. Yes, I certainly have my own share of blame
in the process. Now I look back with fond memories of the first time my father
handed me a gun and took me hunting.
What started as father/son bonding time has grown and taken on a life of
its own. I could never have anticipated how the passion of hunting would shape
me like it has though.
The lessons I learned the first
couple of years are many, and they have stuck with and impacted me deeply. The knowledge my father imparted to his young
wide-eyed son were not deep scientific theories, or even lofty theological
ideas. Instead, he guided me through several moral philosophies that apply just
as profoundly to everyday life as they do to hunting. Even though we are the hunter, killing isn’t
the point. Even when it’s wet, windy, and cold, we are here to hunt, so hunting
we will go. Even though we find great satisfaction in success, we rejoice all
the more with others accomplishments. Most
importantly, we are successful regardless of filling our tags. These ideas were hard to absorb as a kid, and
still hard to practice as an adult, but I have felt the joy in watching a
hunters eyes light up as they describe their triumph. I have trodden back into camp soaked, and
shivering, crumpling into a folding chair pulled close to the wood fireplace. I
have learned the real definition of success.
As I grew up I found those six days
immersed in the wilderness inadequate. Each moment in the woods became a
treasure, allowing me to glimpse into the world where the wild animals I
pursued spent their entire lives. Hunting
began to morph slowly, changing from a chance for an adrenaline rush and
quality family time, into something more intricate. I began reading, and there
is no shortage of hunting resources. Magazines, online articles, and books all contained
vast amounts of information to improve my success. I started as a young kid trying not to snap
every twig underfoot, to pouring over topographical maps, studying migration
corridors, saddles, benches, and a myriad of other geographic clues as to where
the elk should be. Instead of sullenly
tramping along, wondering if my dad had anymore candy bars in his pack, I
became attentive to wind direction, anticipating its thermal shifts to always
keep it in my face. Subtly I was learning
and growing, my path to wildlife literacy gaining momentum. Then came archery hunting, and
learning began anew. Draw weight, length, brace height, and many other factors
determine the right bow for each person. I scoured website after website,
searching for information on what size and type of bow I would need for my
specific build. Shooting a bow is so different
from a rifle there should be a different word for it. There are muscles used in archery I didn’t
know existed, and correct form is essential for accuracy. I worked and worked
on it, establishing a solid anchor spot, and went to a local archery shop for
tuning help and questions. Hunting with
a bow has provided a plethora of learning opportunities, as I now have to get
closer to the animals than ever before. There is an intimacy of being so close
to a wild animal, noticing things not seen before. All this led me deeper into
the world of hunting literacy, morphing from days in the field to now a hunger
for more scientific knowledge.
In high school I was a bright but
un-motivated student. I got decent grades without having to apply much energy,
which was fine with me as I had no intention of going to college. I entered the work force but quickly became
disillusioned with the life of a retail worker. The nagging question that kept
me stuck there had haunted me my entire life: what do I want to be when I grow
up? Finally, that answer came to me, as I realized my passion and knowledge of
hunting could be used as a career springboard.
Working for the US Forest Service, or the state division of wildlife
would allow me to pair my passion for the outdoors with the principles of
management, ecology, and biology. This
would require more than a high school diploma though, so I made the step back
into formal education. It was different this time though, because each class
had meaning. Instead of useless facts, or boring memorization, I could see each
lesson applying and grafting itself to a future career. Experience from the
woods melded with lectures, and professors’ wisdom echoed when I went
hunting. I noticed a drive to succeed
that I never had before, not simply for good grades, but rather to fully understand
the wild world that has always fascinated me. Who I am as a hunter – passionate, driven,
curious – became who I am as a student.
Five more semesters separate me from
graduation, and beyond that I doubt my formal education will stop. Years of
experience in the woods are hopefully the beginning of the knowledge I will continue
to gain firsthand. Wildlife literacy is
not some obtainable benchmark, rather a lifelong lesson, an idea as fluid as
evolution itself. When I go hunting, I
am not simply a predator anymore, but a student also. To me the two worlds have
become inseparable; the hunter and the student have become one. Maybe they were
the same all along.
