Outdoors/Adventure

Why hunt? For some, it's in our blood, it's who we are.

The cold mud of the plowed stubblefield clung to my knees and elbows as I struggled to keep up with the two men crawling ahead of me. The black mud and low clouds sucked up what little light was available in the pre-dawn darkness, the dark forms ahead my only guide to wherever we were going. It didn't matter.

The pair stopped near a low pile of rocks and put their fingers to their lips as I crawled up beside them. I was too anxious to say anything, the silence only broken by the occasional hiss of snow geese flocked in the barren North Dakota wheat field on the other side of the rocks.

Hours slowly ticked by as the black turned to gray, and then finally my dad and his best friend gathered their legs underneath themselves and sprang up from our lair. My spring lacked speed, but I got up in time to see the last of the four geese drop from the shotguns. The rest flew, objecting to our activity in the way only geese can.

My boots were caked in black mud as we walked back to the truck. But the big goose I carried held my attention. I was 6 years old and whatever it is that burns inside hunters ignited on that morning, an eternal flame it seems.

Later my dad showed me how to pluck and dress the geese. And for the rest of my youth, the honor of plucking would be my job.

The world has changed

Growing up in and living in a rural setting, hunting has always been my preferred lifestyle. For a farm kid, the killing of game for the table was no different than rounding up a chicken or two and holding them on the chopping block for my mom to swing the ax. Except it was so much more satisfying, a sentiment that never used to be questioned.

But the world is a different place now. The population has nearly doubled in my lifetime. We now have the ability to transport ourselves to virtually anywhere on the planet. Call it what you want, blame who you will, the world is becoming a warmer place that is changing our ecosystem. And, we have a communication network that allows us to be in touch with, and comment on, everything going on in the world in real time. A truly modern world.

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With that comes the question, and it's a valid one: Where do hunters fit in? Why should we still hunt in a modern world that continuously advances into wild places, destroys habitat, and causes concern for all of the wildlife in the world?

Market hunters were once an instrument in satisfying the demands of a glutinous and ever-expanding population, leading to the demise of wildlife. The lesson was clear: No wildlife can survive commercial hunting. Hunters have shouldered the blame and taken the lead in apologizing and trying to make things right again.

Since the early 1900s, when hunters — including notable naturalists Aldo Leopold and Theodore Roosevelt — took it upon themselves to implement game management strategies that would ensure all of America's citizens would always have wildlife to utilize and enjoy, wildlife has flourished. For instance, the whitetail deer population of North America had dwindled to roughly 500,000 animals by the late 1800s due to market hunting. Today that population is estimated to be roughly 20 million.

Some refer to the financial contribution made by hunters as "hunter green" as it is somewhat self-serving, including license fees, taxes on guns and ammunition, conservation stamps and more. It is but that doesn't change the fact that hunter dollars and influence are why we still have some remaining grasslands in the heart of America, why we have national wildlife refuges and why we have viable wildlife populations. In fact, the wildlife of the world can ill afford for hunting to disappear.

A career choice and its attendant responsibilities left me, for quite a long time, unable to hunt. So I set it to the side. I could live without it, I thought. Then in 2006, I found myself in a hospital bed believing life was coming to an end. All I could think about were the days afield I had missed, and I told Christine if I made it through I was going hunting. It took being in a duck blind again for me to realize that hunting, just being out there, was my lifeblood. There was no turning back.

And thus on a cold October morning this fall, I had the opportunity to take my grandson, who lives in Arizona and is usually not here during hunting season, on his first grouse hunt. He had been learning to shoot for the past two summers and brimmed with confidence. Our steps rattled the dead leaves on the forest floor, and soon the first grouse flushed and landed on a low branch. His aim was good; his trigger press perfect, and the grouse dropped as the shot broke the silence. He ran to the bird and held it up, grinning as only a 9-year-old boy can. We pocketed the grouse and continued on. More grouse flushed. Sometimes he had a shot, sometimes he did not. At three, with enough for supper, we called it a day.

Later, I showed him how to clean the first bird, and while he took care of the rest, I asked him where he would rate this hunting in compared to his other life experiences. He replied it was, next to the king salmon he landed that summer, the best time of his life.

My daughter, my grandson's mother doesn't hunt — never had any desire to. Nor does his father. Throughout my extended family, some are hunters, some are not. Some share my love of wildlife and wild places, some do not. They all eat meat. So what compels my grandson? The best I can answer is we were born with the passion. It wasn't a choice; it's in our blood.

At some level, I understand why some folks object to hunting. Their experiences have never demonstrated for the modern world to exist, other things must die. I don't mind when folks criticize me for being a hunter. This hatred of things we don't understand, things that take us out of a comfort zone, is stock and trade for America.

Many of us still direct hatred at things folks we're born with: skin color, physical characteristics, sexual preference, spiritual feelings or the need to hunt.

As much as wild creatures need wild places, some of us need to sustain the wild part within us that still calls us to the hunting grounds.

It's why I hunt.

Steve Meyer of Soldotna is a lifelong Alaskan and an avid shooter. He writes regularly about guns and Alaska hunting. Contact Steve at oldduckhunter@outlook.com 

Steve Meyer | Alaska outdoors

Steve Meyer of Kenai is longtime Alaskan and an avid shooter who writes about guns and Alaska hunting. He's the co-author, with Christine Cunningham, of the book "The Land We Share: A love affair told in hunting stories."

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