Hunting
The pleasure of hunting is, I believe, a perfectly legitimate purpose. It is a compound tradition; it increases a man by teaching him constantly more of his world, by brining him against stronger truths than most to be found in the day-to-day routine of civilized living. Hunting takes men where they would not otherwise go, shows them creatures they would not otherwise see. It builds warm companionship and strong friendships. It leaves a man with memories that are among the richest of his whole life. –Roderick Haig-Brown
Noble beasts engender respect, the good hunter understands, feels this. We hunters are not brutal; here we are Indians. Think more carefully of us, those of you who simply exchange coins for packaged flesh. – Lee Nisbet, A Deer Killing
Hunting is no longer essential to man’s survival, but his need to hunt has not diminished. This compulsion springs from within his spirit and courses through his veins. It haunts his dreams and enriches his memories. With this devotion comes the obligation to share and preserve it, to pass it on to sons and daughters – a legacy of knowledge, experience and passion freely given, with nothing asked in return. – Rick Leonardi
Love for the pursuit of game is a passion to be shared.
An ancient tradition, handed down from one generation to the next – the
hunt remains part ritual, part camaraderie, and part deep appreciation of all
that is wild. – Rick Leonardi,
“Legacy”, in
I have laid aside business, and gone a-fishing. –Izzac Walton
Getting up too early is a vice habitual in horned owls, stars, geese and freight trains. Some hunters acquire it from geese and some coffee pots from hunters. –Leopold
He didn’t come to this place to meditate. But he will.
He didn’t intend to learn about the habit s of the birds and the squirrels. But he does.
He came to hunt. And he will.
He didn’t plan on reveling in the rising of the sun. But he does.
He hadn’t know he was re-enacting a hunt of his long forgotten ancestors. But he does.
He didn’t think about why he was drawn to the woods.
But he always has been.
He didn’t come to watch the subtle motion of nature.
But he would watch and become caught up in that motion.
He came to hunt. And whether or not he killed, that motion will continue.
–Joel M. Spring
The aloneness of the hunter, and his thoughts of his
hunting past, are the very genesis of primitive energy.
He is always a young man then, and making his most daring journeys.
He will not think of middle age, and even the responsibility of his
family will be dim as he pauses, every sense alert for the sound of what he
plans to kill. This is really the
only time that he is fully alive. All
the rest is the dreaming time. –Franklin Russell, p 23
Though bent with years,
Yet alert he sits
At the faintest note
From the pack;
To hunters, young or old
What more welcome words
Than “Listen, boys,
They’re coming back.”
–unknown, from The Hunter’s Horn, 1974
The deer hunting mystique is a compound of many elements. . .the inclination to join this seasonal ritual derives from impulses that are probably far out of reach of all mere arguments against it. –Ronald Jager, “Deer Hunter’s Journal”
Fox-hunting with hounds, backwoods style. . . This is one
of the purest of sports; it has real split-rail flavor; it has man-earth drama
of the first water. The fox is
deliberately left unshot, hence ethical restraint is also present.
But Bugle Ann mingles with the honk of the flivver!
However, no one is likely to invent a mechanical foxhound, or screw a
polychoke on the hound’s nose. No
one is likely to teach dog-training by phonograph, or by other painless
shortcuts. –Aldo Leopold, A
Sand
The chase is among the best of all national pastimes; it cultivates that vigorous manliness for the lack of which in a nation, as in an individual, the possession of no other qualities can possibly atone. – Theodore Roosevelt.
Kermit and I kept about a dozen trophies for ourselves. Otherwise we shot nothing that was not used either as a museum specimen or for meant –usually for both purposes. We were in hunting grounds practically as good as any that have ever existed; but we did not kill a tenth, nor a hundredth part of what we might have killed had we been willing. The mere size of the bag indicates little as to a man’s prowess as a hunter, and almost nothing as to the interest or value of his achievement. –Theodore Roosevelt, closing paragraph of African Game Trails p 534
Watching the game, one was struck by the intensity and the evanescence of their emotions. Civilized man now usually passes his life under conditions which eliminate the intensity of terror felt by his ancestors when death by violence was their normal end, and threatened them every hour of the day and night. It is only in nightmares that the average dweller in civilized countries now undersgoes the hideous horror which was the regular and frequent portion of his ages-vanished forefathers, and which is still an every-day incident in the lives of most wild creatures. But the dread is short-lived, and its horror vanishes with instantaneous rabidity. In these wilds the game dreaded the lion and the other flesh-eating beasts rather than man. –Theodore Roosevelt, African Game Trails p.239
Hunters once were held exalted
They fed and clothed – were held in awe
But now the hunter’s efforts see to be forgotten.
Damn this world is turning rotten.
–Johnny Stowe,
Fox hunting with hounds, backwoods style, presents a dramatic instance of partial and perhaps harmless mechanized invasion. This is one of the purest of sports; it had real split rail flavor; it has man-earth drama of the first water. The fox is deliberately left unshot, hence ethical restraint is also present. But we now follow the chase in Fords! The voice of Bugle Ann mingles with the honk of the flivver! However, no one is likely to invent a mechanical foxhound, or to screw a polychoke on the hound’s nose. No one is likely to teach dog-training by phonograph, or by other painless shortcuts. I think the gadgeteer has reached the end of his tether in dogdom. –Leopold
There are those who decry wilderness sports as ‘undemocratic’ because the recreational carrying capacity of a wilderness is small, as compared with a golf links or a tourist camp. The basic error in such an argument is that it applies the philosophy of mass-production to what is intended to counteract mas-production. – Leopold.
Ten thousand years ago that hunter would have stood by a fire and recounted the great deed to his clan brothers, while the old men nodded their approval and the stripling boys back in the shadows listened in wonder. It hasn’t changed much. The trophy hunter, the ethical killer of the great stag or the great bear, still commands attention by the fire as he recites his deeds. His peers still salute him, the old men still nod and remember, and young boys still dream of tomorrow’s hunts. – Leopold
For those that understand no explanation is necessary. For those that don’t none is possible. – H.B. Zachary, on hunting.
Most of us will never kill the great stag. Yet, we’ve all taken deer that held special trophy value for us, and such value isn’t all a measure of tine and beam. It may be just a measure of hard, solid hunting in which both you and the deer conducted yourselves well, so that neither species was shamed. – John Madson.
Not all dogs are fit to hunt nor, in the same way, are all men gratified by it. Nor, for those of us who share the dog’s pleasure of hunting (if you will), do I ask special tolerance or understanding. We are as we are, and if we seem to you to act immorally, it is certainly your right to feel so. But I say most seriously that you exceed your rights when you urge that laws be made in the shape of your conscience to block pleasures permitted by mine. When you commit a crime against freedom, it is the greatest immorality I know. – Bourjaily
Today there is no need to battle with the beasts of prey and little necessity to kill wild animals for food; but still the hunting instinct persists. The love of the chase still thrills us and all the misty past echoes with the hunter’s call. In the joy of hunting is intimately woven the love of the great outdoors. The beauty of woods, valleys, mountains, and skies feeds the soul of the sportsman where the quest for game only whets his appetite. After all it is no the killing that brings satisfaction; it is the contest of skill and cunning. The true hunter counts his achievement in proportion to the effort involved and the fairness of the sport. – Dr. Saxton Pope
We all hunt deer because we are hungry. The question is, hungry for what? Meat? Glory? Freedom? Personal proof? I contend that the genuine deer hunter (as opposed to the synthetic deer hunter, which is another case entirely) hunts to satisfy hungers just as sharp as the belly-hunger of Neolithic man. He is not killing for the joy of killing; he is hunting for the joy of living. – John Madson, forward to The Deer Book
Although working has largely replaced hunting today, it has not completely eliminated the more primitive forms of expression of this basic urge. Even when there is no economic excuse for participation in the pursuit of animal prey, this activity still persists in a variety of forms. Big-game hunting, stag-hunting, fox-hunting, coursing, falconry, wildfowling, angling and the hunting-play of children are all contemporary manifestations of the ancient hunting urge. . . The whole procedure of sport-hunting involves a deliberately contrived inefficiency, a self-imposed handicap, on the part of the hunters. They could easily use machine guns, or more deadly weapons, but that would not be “playing the game” – the hunting game. It is the challenge that counts, the complexities of the chase and the subtle manoeuvres that provide the rewards.
– Desmond Morris, The
Naked Ape
A man may not care for golf and still be human, but the man who does not like to see, hunt, photograph or otherwise outwit birds or animals is hardly normal. He is supercivilized, and I for one do not know how to deal with him. Babes do not tremble when they are shown a golf ball, but I should not like to own the boy whose hair does not lift his hat when he sees his first deer. – Aldo Leopold