The Undeniable Hunting Spirit and Ethos That Lives On

“HUNTING isn’t supposed to just be about the kill,” they say. We often hear that lament when the hunt is unsuccessful. Those words are supposed to be comforting and conciliatory, but often they fall short of the mark. The fact is, hunting indeed involves all the facets of the outdoors. Seeing trees and brush slowly appearing in the new morning light, hearing the woods come alive, eagerly anticipating a buck suddenly appearing or hearing a bull elk bugling—all of these scenarios and more are the nonconsumptive rewards of the hunt. Just being outdoors and away from the world’s problems, especially during these days of tension and turmoil, is a perfect way to temporarily abandon those troublesome issues.

All well and good. Hunting certainly captures all those moments, but let’s look at reality. Most hunters aren’t out there just to smell the roses or hear a wren, but to bring home a deer, elk, antelope or other quarry. They’re profoundly serious. They want meat. Failing to get one’s hands bloody is depressing. Then there are those who don’t care if they squeeze the trigger or not, but are perfectly content to be “out there.”

I once had a tent mate on an Idaho wilderness hunt who was enormously enchanted with the Rocky Mountains. As he tossed a chunk of wood in the stove, he said, “You know, it doesn’t matter if I squeeze the trigger or not. I’m just so happy to be in this magnificent place.”

I’m reminded of my first horseback wilderness elk hunt many years ago. I was so confident I’d get an elk I removed the back seat from my SUV so I’d have room for a big, dead bull. I had clean tarps to wrap the chilled quarters and reorganized my freezer to accommodate all the elk meat. I didn’t score on the hunt. If I said I was happy, I’d be lying. I sat on the cot the last night and pulled out my unpunched elk tag. I figured I might frame it because it was the only thing going up on my wall. And nothing was going in my freezer. But I had memories of a grueling hunt in spectacular country, memories never to be forgotten.

Filled Freezers

Hunters who live in rural areas are more apt to be complacent about the outdoors because they see it all the time. The kill means everything, and many hunters depend on that meat to feed their families, whether they’re residents in an Appalachian hollow or a small town in Montana. The argument can be made that one can buy meat in a grocery store and save money when compared to the expense of getting a deer or elk. That’s true in many cases, but there are many hunters who buy a license, grab a few shells, hunt the back 40 and bring a deer home at minimal cost. And the cellophane-wrapped meat in the grocery store, by the way, tastes nothing like the real deal from the marshes, fields and forests.

Many hunters who live in cities and urban areas see an elk hunt “out West” as a big deal. Just getting a nonresident tag in a lottery draw is reason to celebrate. The cost of the hunt is not cheap, given the license and travel expenses, whether it’s a DIY hunt or one with an outfitter. Some hunters save for years to make a Western hunt, and there’s a high expectation of bringing home a trophy.

The same can be said for the hunter who lives in Pennsylvania and can’t wait for deer season to open so he or she can join pals in deer camp and finally make the long-awaited climb into the favorite treestand. Hopefully they’ll bring home some venison, too. That hunt might not be in a strange or unfamiliar place a thousand miles away, but it’s nonetheless a profound priority for all the reasons that only hunters can know. And if hunters fail to score, we can all empathize. To them we say, “That’s why they call it hunting.”

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