Hunting. It is a topic that can make people mad, or create
story time filled with amazing memories.
When I tell people I hunt, there
is always a stigmatic question of, “Why
do you hunt? Does it make you feel good
to kill a living thing?” Most of the
time I will reply with a sardonic comment with hopes of making that person feel
awkward because I know that they are eager to argue with me. Hunting for me is a way of life. It is who I am and it allows me quality
family time outside in Mother Nature’s home.
Since, I was a little girl, I’ve
known I’d participate in the sport of hunting until I can no longer hunt because
of old age. As a 13-year-old hunter, hunting
has shown me that hard work can result in providing food for my family. At 5 in the morning, hunting at least with
my family is climbing a mountain to get to the top. This early morning hike can consist of hiking
up and down hills, through rocks, cactus, and dead trees while tracking,
stalking, watching, and patiently waiting.
I develop this amazing feeling as though I am acting as one with nature
and I gain a respect for the outdoors. A
successful hunt will give me and my family meals for months. Through hunting I have begun to find my original
roots.
To be able to hunt successfully, a hunter must learn their area and
engrave it into their soul. As the
hunter learns their land over the years, they will start to see the changes
with every season they hunt there. After
a while as a hunter, I know that I always have a pull to be outside as this natural
pull is trying to show me how to understand the way of the world through the
sport of hunting. I first felt this pull
prior to becoming the legal age to hunt at the young age of 7. It was my first hunting trip that I was ever
allowed to go on with my Dad.
As the sun was coming up, my Dad, sister, and I started walking through a
draw to sit at a spot where we would then wait for the sun to fully rise. As we waited, we watched for a moment in the meadows
to
see
if anything walked
out. As we sat, I began to feel my adrenaline
develop into my body. I began to turn
into the energizer bunny. I couldn’t sit
still! All I wanted to do was to get a whitetail
deer. My Dad murmurs, “Girl.
Sit still or they won’t come out if
they feel threatened.” That stopped me real quick, I sat stiffer than a board and my movement
was very limited after that. We sat
there for what felt like an hour but realistically was only a few minutes. My sister mutters, “There is something walking. See
it?”
My
Dad looked through his binoculars and said, “Bay, Madison, it’s a racoon.
Look!” This was the first
time I was up close and watching this animal interact in its natural habitat. Shortly after we watched the racoon leave
where we were, we concluded that the deer weren’t in the area we were. Most of the time, deer will lay down to sleep
during the heat of the day. My family and I drove around the area for another 2
hours but we didn’t see a whole lot of white tail. We did see more mule deer than anything. So, my Dad decided to call it the end of our
morning hunt. We decided to get home,
eat lunch, and rest before returning for our afternoon adventure. My Dad always tells me and my sister that
we’ll have a better late afternoon hunt when they are feeding well into the
darker hours of the day. My sister and I
were perfectly fine with returning in the afternoon. As we were headed out my Dad saw a herd of
about 8 deer. In the herd, there were 2
bucks (one small and one bigger) 4 does and 2 fawns. My Dad went for the larger buck. He chose the larger one because his body was
bigger which meant more meat. Instantly,
my Dad parked the truck. He said, “Get out, girls. I’m going for him.”
Not a minute to
waste, we took off as fast as we could, heading downwind from them. We arrived at a gate leading into the
meadow. My Dad positioned himself and
the gun to get ready to shoot. He took a
few breaths; then shot. The bullet hit
the buck directly in the heart. The
force of the bullet hitting his heart caused the buck to jump and take off
running. He only ran a few feet before
he fell and died. This was a quick and
efficient kill. We harvested the buck,
and took him home. With my Dad’s
harvest, we fed our family for the next 3-4 months not counting the other game
we harvested that season.
Hunters love
animals. It might sound ironic but hunters
truly respect animals. As a hunter, I
can say we enjoy observing animals in their natural habitat as they chase one
another around either during mating season or not when it is mating season. For a hunter, we hunt because it is our way
of assisting Mother Nature with managing her herds and keeping them healthy. Don’t think that hunters don’t cry after
their first hunt because we do. Our
tears are not out of remorse but rather out of respect. It’s a blessing to learn not only the
physical strength it takes to hunt but also the emotional strength. Actually having the responsibility to pull the
trigger is a crazy experience that comes with a flood of emotions, including
horrendous buck fever or any fever.
After you knock down your first animal you realize that this is the
beginning of being able to provide for yourself. Every time I am behind the gun my heart
pounds. I’m walking through everything I
know and have ever been taught. I’m
listening to the sounds of a peaceful world and listening to my Dad tell me to
stay calm. I know what I am doing before
I take my shot. I hear by Dad repeatedly
say, “You can do this. Squeeze the trigger; pull softly. Watch him.
Take a deep, steady breaths.”
I am a hunter. When I’m in the woods, I feel alive in my
heart, mind, and soul. I’m free and I
know that I’m a new generation of developing into a conservationist. It is my one calling to something so much
bigger than me. Hunting is my greatest
life passion. I know that with anything
in my life there will always be a moment of resistance especially when it comes
to this. I am thankful that I can have
the opportunity to become the hunter that I am. I know I will forever be one no matter how
old I grow. Some of the best memories I
have ever made don’t even involve me pulling a trigger. These memories are some of the best and the
funniest ones. If I share them with
another person, it is one of my dearest treasures to share with them.
Remember
for some people, hunting is way more than hunting. It’s one of the best things in life and no
matter what, we as hunters, are proud to be a part of it. Thus, when you ask a hunter why they hunt
just know it is our way of life. Hunting
doesn’t have to be yours. But, if you
take the time to sit and listen to a hunter talk, they will demonstrate to you
not through their actions but through the passionate way they speak of the animals
they hunt in the vast amount of land the animals live in. A hunter’s morals and respect are evident
especially when another individual doesn’t display similar respect towards
either. Hunters always back one another
up even when they don’t agree. Hunters
do this because they each feel the same passion and understanding that hunting
and the world of it is greater than other’s who don’t hunt would comprehend.
When I respond to the question of why I hunt,
it’s because I will never change who I am for anyone. I was born and raised into this world of
hunting. I know I’ll have bad times. I also know that every year, I will wake up
with a motivation stronger than the previous year’s hunt. I will push myself to become stronger and better
with the sport of hunting because I am aware that hunting is not a phase for
me. It is not a hobby. Hunting is my passion. I will always remember the memories I have
made because as a hunter, the bad days are also the good days. That is why I hunt.
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