A HUNTERS JOURNEY
A HUNTERS JOURNEY
Steve Rodgers
A HUNTERS JOURNEY
My hunting community. It is a plethora of rednecks, environmentalists, animal lovers, egomaniacs, survivalists , adrenaline seekers, and keepers of the land. We come from all walks of life , and all take something different from our experiences. But one common thing that is unavoidable. Undeniable. We take life. We kill so that we may fill whatever primal need is there. Some hunt strictly for survival to feed their family. Some find exhilaration in the pursuit of trophy animals . When approached from anti-hunters or those curious of our reasons for taking life, most hunters try to come up with some statistical answer as to defend or justify killing. I myself have gone this route to defend my lifestyle on numerous occasions. But this is not the answer to justify killing. It is just a defense mechanism to defend ourselves. Even though many of these reasons hold true, it only justifies hunting as a whole but not the singular taking of a life. If I stopped hunting today , nothing would change in the ecosystems I inhabit. If hunting stopped all together, we could discuss further the science of our human/wildlife ecosystem we have created. But I am talking about the ethics of taking a life. I have chosen to write these stories as a way to better understand my view on hunting. Like anything else in life, it is only my experiences and views expressed. I hope my words can give insight into my way of life and the way many hunters feel. It is something we have done since the dawn of man. Though we have evolved and no longer require hunting as a means of providing meat, the instinct to hunt for our food is still very much alive in most people. It’s just whether or not you reach inside yourself to find it. The ethics of killing animals is up for the person to decide. There is one thing that is absolute in this world though, and that is life and death.
YOUNG BLOOD
My own views on hunting have changed over the 25 years I have taken to the woods to fill my freezer. As a young testosterone driven youth , I seeked out to explore the woods. To find something to shoot. Grouse, rabbits, bear ,deer. Whatever I had a tag for or was legal to shoot. My first season went by unsuccessful in killing, but successful in learning. I learned by the tracks of the animals I hunted. I learned by the interactions with the wildlife I saw. The comradere of my hunting partner. The conversations on life, girls , or whatever was on our minds that day. A lot of days spent driving looking for new country, hiking up hidden mountainsides in pursuit of what may roam the other side . I was slowly getting hooked.
My second season started looking for black bears. The most successful way to hunt bears is to drive around south-facing rds with fresh grass and dandilions. We see more bears running away than anything else. One early afternoon, we came around a corner and spotted a beautiful bear feeding on some dandelions. I hopped out of the truck and held steady on the kill zone. The shot rang out for what seemed like forever. The bear rolled around and disappeared into the forest. With adrenaline pumping, I ran to see what had just happened. As I looked over the bank, there he was. As I started to make my way down the hill, something happened that I feel has forever changed me. The bear started to cry. It is the only animal that has ever done so. He moaned in what I could only guess is pain as I had hit his rear leg. I quickly pulled up my rifle and ended his life quickly. Just like that, he took his last breath and parished before me. We sat 20 yds away and looked at each other. We weren’t excited. We didn’t celebrate. We didn’t expect the emotions we felt that day. I felt horrible. Why I did I take this animals life. He was out grazing in the sun, and I just killed him. The emotions slowly subsided, and the curiousity kicked in .We spent time admiring his fur, his claws, his teeth. We gutted the animal the best we could with the knowledge we had and got him back to the truck. Many glances back at the bear on the way home gave me mixed emotions. I kept hearing the moans repeated in my head. Then kept thinking that I finally was successful. I was able to bring something back home from the woods and the meat that would follow. As the weeks passed, I enjoyed the meat from the bear. Freezer full of hamburgers , steaks, and sausage. This batchelor was very happy to have meat to go with my staple of mac and cheese and perogies. I ate a lot of bear meat that year.
I questioned the emotions I felt and wondered if I would continue to hunt the following fall. The meat was nice but I could buy meat from the store. Did I need to hunt for my meat? Did I want to go through the emotions I felt on that warm spring day? I decided to try the fall deer hunt and see how it went
A HUNTER BORN
I spent the early fall looking for a larger buck as the regulations were for 4 points or better . A few close calls in September, October came quick. My hunting partner was out one Saturday morning as I was working. He called me and said he had shot his first buck. He told me they found a spot with lots of game. I spent the day working with anticipation of the following morning. He picked me up after work, and we spent the night sleeping in the back of his old Ford under the canopy. Rain hammered down all night. I closed my eyes and hoped for a dry, successful morning. We woke up an hour before light and drove to the end of a logging rd. There was a big meadow on the plateau above us with a mixture of logging and deciduous trees. We hiked up and found an island of trees to hide in. I layed my old .300 savage on a log, and we watched the sunrise. The chickadees started to sing. The squirrels chased each other over fallen logs, collecting some food for the day. All of a sudden, three bucks ran into the clearing . They had no idea we were there. I took my time and put my crosshairs on the largest one. With one shot, he dropped. The other bucks ,startled, ran a few yards and stopped. The forest settled. We sat quietly and let the forest get back to normal. The deer went back to feeding, and the squirrels returned to their antics . We slowly crawled to my buck so as not to disturb anything. There he lay. He had not cried like the bear in spring. He just lay their peaceful. Dead, but peaceful. I admired his dark wet antlers. He was way bigger than I expected. This magnificent beast had been out feeding, and once again, I had taken life. Though I still had some feelings of sadness, this felt a bit different. It seemed…natural. Like as if I was just another predator. Part of the ecosystem. The other deer didn’t seem to be bothered. They weren’t scared. Just another day in the life of a deer. I felt like I was a part of something. As a young man, I questioned a lot those days. The meaning of life. Trying to find purpose in this crazy world. I felt a real connection to the living world. Away from the concrete world was this amazing place. Where I could exist , if only for small amounts of time, the way the world was meant to be. It warmed my heart, my soul , and of course, my belly.
That first deer changed my life. With the exception of the occasional steak or boxed hamburgers, I haven’t bought red meat for over 20 years. Venison has become a staple in my families diet. My girls have grown up with the benefits of wild game. As I became more preficient in the processing of game meat, I ended up looking forward to the amazing meat that came from these animals. I would take pride in cutting the choice cuts and the delicious processed jerky, pepperoni, and sausages that followed the season. There is no questioning where my meat comes from. I can tell you that nothing gets wasted. Although cougar, wolf, and bear are worthy of feasting on the ungulates of the forest, I assure you that all edible portions go to good use. I slowly realized that the older the animal was , the larger the meat yeild. A young buck may only yield 50-70 lbs of meat. Where a larger buck can produce up to 120 lbs. Double the amount of meat. Although this is a big reason I choose to look for older animals , I would be remiss to leave out the fact that I am after what is most commonly referred to as a hunters trophy.
THE TROPHY
Let’s not confuse my love of wild game meat for the addiction that is big buck hunting. I am not going to lie and say I only hunt for the meat. Though a lot of hunters still go out with the sole purpose of filling the freezer, I am looking for the biggest of whatever I pursue. Wild TV ,hunting magazines, old hunting videos.. They exposed me to images and videos of these larger animals that had reached their full potential. It is absolutely magnificent to see what an animal can turn into when he can live to an older age. I became obsessed with the huge antlers of elk, moose, and my favorite mule deer. In order to find one, I would have to change my way of hunting. Pressure has filled the mountains with hunters, and it takes perseverance and determination to find what I am looking for. For some, it comes easy. A quick trip to the forest can produce a trophy animal on any given day. This has never been the case for me. As if the forest remembers those early hunts, it has kept me grounded. Kept me working. I am always engaged with the game I pursue. I find myself interacting with does, fawns, and young bucks. Learning from their habits. I appreciate those days in the field as much as the ones where I come home with something. Once a year, I get to punch one tag of whatever I am hunting. I wait for the one moment where I decide to take an animals life . It isn’t always as poetic as that first deer. And is never as upsetting as that first bear. But it is always done with a bunch of mixed emotions. The excitement of grabbing a large bucks antlers for the first time, the feeling of success after so many long days in the mountains looking for an older animal. Usually, I am with my hunting partners who share in my excitement. You can capture the joy with one quick click of the camera. A sense of pride and accomplishment, for I was the one who gets to lay here and admire this animal. I do, on occasion, find myself in a brief moment of sadness and remorse as well. Sometimes, it’s upon walking up to my animal. Sometimes later on reminiscing about the hunt. It’s never for long, and I am glad I feel these emotions. I know not what other hunters feel. I can only speak from my own emotions.
I have chosen taxidermy as a way to capture the memories of these animals. A dusty bear rug sits under my end table in my room to remind me of that first bear. He reminds me of the absolute truth of life and death. He reminds me of the sad side of death and a reminder that I do infact have a choice in whether I take an animals life.. Many antlers lay on my walls. Reminders of great hunts. Sore legs, long pursuits. And long after the last package of meat has left my freezer, I can remember each buck as he was. As he stood. He once roamed those grand mountains, and rather than wither away on some hillside, I get to immortalize him and show respect to such a magnificent creation. Sometimes, when I am sitting quietly in my room, I’ll remember the emotions. The celebration with my hunting partner. The emotions that ran through me when I first walked up to the animal. I am thankful for strong legs and a deep connection with the mountains and the animals that live there.
A HUNTERS HEART
I find myself feeling more remorse as I get older. Similar to those first experiences. I think I may value life a bit more as I age. I think all creatures deserve a chance to live a life as full as possible. I know they have a hard life in the mountains. Most don’t live to maturity. But sometimes, when I shoot a younger animal, I feel sad at my part in the circle of life. I know the cougar or wolf doesn’t feel this same emotion, but still, I feel it nonetheless. There could come a day when I lay the rifle down and just enjoy the hills without taking life. For now, I still enjoy the process and feel that maybe those emotions are what keep me so connected in the first place. The drive to hunt is still well alive, though. The anticipation to try and find some wily old buck who has surived all else. It’s not just the mountains that I crave. I don’t get that same feeling on conquering a mountain hike or riding a bike along a trail. The feeling of being part of something bigger is what draws me to the mountains. I wish all could experience the joy and sense of worth I feel. It has given me purpose in my life, and I feel blessed to have found hunting. Maybe those feelings are for me and me alone. If everyone hunted and connected like I do, there would be no game to hunt. I’ll just enjoy my days in the mountains while my body lets me. Life is about finding joy and love in something. Mine is in the mountains. I dont know if it is right or wrong to kill the animals I do. My heart tells me it is how I was meant to live my life. One day, my body will tire. I’ll lay the rifle away for the last time. And I will tell tales to my great grandchildren. And for me, I will always have the trophies on my wall to remind me of all the adventures, the meals around the dinner table as my children grew , and the memories of friendships forged forever in life and death
Steve Rodgers