Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Hunting

Many blogers write about their hunting experiences. One of the best is Brigid at http://www.mausersandmuffins.blogspot.com/
I enjoy reading their accounts but rarely relate to their enjoyment. My father and his relatives were, simply put, poachers. Not for profit, for food. We ate venison nearly every day, elk when we could get it, and pronghorn when we visited my grandparents in Wyoming. One of my earliest childhood memories was waking up in the backseat of our car as a freshly jack lighted deer was tossed in between the seats. As a toddler, I called deer “bang, bang cows.” Hunting, to me, was always a job of work. Sometimes pleasurable work, but none the less, work. My enjoyment was more the admiration, sometimes envy, of friends and relatives when I was successful. The biggest motivator was parental approval.
My father was a guide for several years after leaving the railroad. This was a critical endeavor, to have money for the winter months, that dominated our lives for many weeks each year. I came to understand the experience his clients wanted and, with his not too gentle tutelage, help him deliver the experience. In later years, he used that skill in real estate sales, and taught it to my sister.
When we hunted for ourselves, the goal was maximum results with the least expenditure of time, money, and effort. We would take a spike elk for the freezer, not a trophy. A fat two point buck; good eating. Only once did I see my father shoot a trophy buck for himself. We still ate the meat. You never shot a deer if you couldn’t drive to the kill in a pickup. Elk we would take where we could and I’ve quartered and packed out, on horses and mules, many animals as a teenager along with the occasional dude.
I never developed a passion for hunting. Instead, my passion was machinery that burned gasoline and could maim or kill you.
I haven’t hunted for years and don’t miss it. My very best wishes to those that do. If I run out of money I may start again.

2 comments:

suz said...

I'm with you. Most of the pleasures of hunting can be found in the outdoors without killing anything. If you're going to kill it, you'd better have a plan for getting it home and eating it. I'm afraid my opinion of hunting has been damaged by the idiots. Around here, we have too many rednecks with big mouths, big trucks, big guns, and small dicks. Their idea of hunting is to get drunk, head for the woods, and shoot the fuck out of anything that moves. The truly lazy ones cruise around all night with beer and spotlights, and never even bother to get out of the truck. These cretins give hunting a bad name.

Old NFO said...

If I kill it, I'm planning on eating it... I grew up in Louisiana and Arkansas in the 50's and 60's and my father died when I was nine. We hunted to eat too...