Deep Introspect of a Seasoned Hunter: It's "Complex."

The mule deer doe lay on the highway, her body shattered from the collision with a vehicle. All of her legs were broken, blood issued from her ears and nose, yet she was able to hold her head up. I drove by slowly and our eyes made contact. As I continued by, her eyes followed mine and I was struck with a profound dose of sorrow I had never experienced before when confronted with a dying animal. I’m not embarrassed to say tears drained down my cheeks. I knew she was imploring me to put her out of her horrific pain. “Kill me,” she was saying. I didn’t have a firearm in my vehicle at the time, but I knew my buddy behind me had a gun in his truck. He put the doe out of her misery.

As I drove on, I had an unthinkable notion. I was so intensely moved by that doe’s plight I entertained the idea of giving up hunting. This was so foreign to me that I trembled when my confused brain tried to process what I’d just witnessed and my bizarre reaction.

Was I going soft? Would I join the fraternity of others in their golden years who retire their guns and replace them with a camera or quit going afield altogether? A few minutes later I was thinking more logically. How could I justify all the animals I’d killed after a lifetime of hunting and now consider it not okay? I knew the answer; so do most hunters. Every living organism on this planet must die. Nothing lives forever. When humans become ill, we seek resolution from the medical profession. When a wild animal gets sick, it doesn’t get cared for by a veterinarian. It dies, sometimes slowly from disease or parasites, or sometimes from the jaws of a lion, bear, wolf or other predator. Suffering is the norm in nature.

This past winter a muley buck showed up in my yard where he bedded under a spruce tree. I immediately realized he was sick. I could count every rib and observe his peculiar behavior. He never moved from that bed, even when the shadows grew long and it was time to begin foraging. This went on for another day. When I walked close to him and clapped my hands, he barely raised his head. I called the warden and when he approached within a few feet of the buck it only moved slightly. He put the deer down. The buck tested positive for CWD. That animal had been suffering for a long time until he was humanely dispatched.

Compassion and Contemplation

Killing an animal is a personal matter. Reactions from hunters vary, depending on the circumstances. Taking a doe or cow elk for meat is cause for celebration, as is killing a trophy, but it’s also a time for reflection. An editor of a well-known outdoor magazine once opined that a hunter should feel some remorse when he or she approaches a downed animal. I can understand that. When I put an animal down quickly, I’m pleased, but I also can’t help contemplating the animal and the years it spent under the starry and stormy nights surviving blizzards, droughts, predators and other deadly threats. I knew that someday, if it wasn’t killed by a hunter’s bullet, it would die a painful death that nature would surely deliver.

As enlightened hunters, we’re conscious of the reasons why we hunt—biologists use us as “tools” to help manage wildlife numbers. Our money goes to fund government agencies and wildlife foundations, as well as habitat improvement projects and land purchases. We don’t go afield with only the notion that we must do our duty as conservationists. We know that part well. We hunt because we love the challenge and all the joys of being in the woods, but also to send a bullet, arrow or load of shot into a creature that bleeds. Hunting is a blood sport. We are apex predators and we understand the consequences of pulling the trigger. The well-placed bullet or arrow results in a humane kill, unlike the sick deer on my lawn or the doe on the highway. For that we can be proud.

---