I came accross this article in Field and Stream, and although it is about Hunters, I believe that is is also about every person who Hunts, Fishes and Traps. I was a little leary of Posting it because it attacks some subjects that we as outdoorsman do not like to attack for various reasons, but Paul gave me permission so I am posting this so that everyone can understand a little better why we as MODS delete the things we do. EVERY POST YOU MAKE HERE represents us as trappers. PLEASE remember this.
From: Field and Stream, February 2007 Volume CXI Number 9
A Sportsman’s Life by Bill Heavey
MORONS AMONG US
How we are helping the Antis
Ever wonder why so many folks have a less-than flattering image of Hunters? Let me explain it to you: There be morons among us. What’s worse, the rest of us generally tolerate them. So if the antis ever succeed in banning hunting, it will be thanks to our generous support. We don’t send them money, of course. But make no mistake: We contribute to their cause.
Imagine yourself a newly minted strategist working for an anti-hunting group. Within half an hour of starting your job, you’d be rubbing your hands with glee and telling your superiors, “These guys are a dream come true. We don’t even have to think up ways to portray them as Neanderthals who are just after the thrill of the Kill. They’re already doing that for us!”
Visit enough hunting chat rooms and you’ll see how. I found one in which a hunter was complaining that the buck he’d shot had died before he could taunt it with a dance he’d choreographed specially for the occasion. “I’m really into sports, “the guy wrote. “I based my dance on some of Terrell Owens’ moves after he scores a touchdown. It’s this really in-your-face, I-own you sort of deal. I worked pretty hard on all the moves, and I thought it would be cool for it to be the last thing some deer saw, knowing that I’d beaten it. I’ve done it for my friends at a bar, and they all thought it was hilarious. I’m hoping next year I get to do it for real.” As sportsmen, I’m sure we can all share his frustration at a game animal that has the nerve to expire before a guy gets his chance to humiliate it. And it sure would be nice to meet his buddies.
On another site, a bow hunter wrote that he had always wanted to take a deer with a brain shot through the ear and that he had been waiting for just the right opportunity. His patience payed off, and everyone in the chat room was treated to a photo of what looked to be a yearling doe with a shaft angling out of the right side of her head. Forget that such a tiny target makes this an ethically indefensible shot. Forget that it shows no respect for the life of the animal. Forget – if you can – the grisly image itself, which brings to mind Saddam’s torture-loving sons. No, the important thing here is that this hunter’s wish to kill in a novel and satisfying (for him at least) way was fulfilled.
There are unethical slobs in any sport, of course. And it’s unfair to tar a whole group because of a few bad apples. But in both cases, these posts were met by a resounding absence of anger or censure. In fact, some who responded were admiring, even sympathetic.
Am I missing something? Are we hunters now convinced that the only thing that matters in the debate over our sport is numbers – so much so that we welcome anybody who hunts, no matter how twisted, into our ranks?
I hesitate to saddle up my high horse here, yet this stuff both scares and sickens me. We would do well to remember a few facts: Hunters are a minority in our country. There are a lot of people who want to abolish hunting. There are probably even more who are still forming opinions on the matter. The future of hunting depends on the actions of hunters and nonhunters alike. If we don’t police the morons and slobs ourselves, we invite outsiders to step in and do it. I’m guilty myself. I was so distressed by what I saw online that I just walked away from my computer at the time.
Politics aside, there is something about crude behavior in a hunter that is not just offensive; it also eats at the soul of any true outdoorsman. These guys are cheapening something we love, something sacred. The longer I hunt, the more humbling I find the experience. Each time I walk into the woods with my bow, I rediscover how infinite nature is and how transitory and small I am. My carefully maintained suburban identity falls away like a dry husk. I become more alert. My consciousness opens up. I am focused, aware, alive. I am hunting.
Everything around me comes alive , too: the earth beneath my feet, the water in a brook, every leaf on every tree. The slightest tremor in the air is like the blast of a trumpet; the squawk of a distant wood pecker, a siren. Each step cracks open a new world. I am seeking an animal whose knowledge of this place is greater than mine will ever be. I come in humility precisely because no one is watching me, because I alone must live with the consequences of my actions here. Should I be granted a killing shot on a buck, I will kill. This is the confirmation of the hunt, the thing that makes being here so elemental and important. What I love beyond all reckoning, beyond my ability to explain even to myself, is the felling of being more intensely alive than I’ve ever been.
As for the next moron hunter I bump into, fair warning: The gloves are off.
