A HUNTER'S APOLOGIA

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IF YOU'RE NOT A HUNTER, MY STORY may seem cruel, perhaps overly graphic for a general-interest family magazine such as this. My intent in relating these events is neither to shock nor to entertain, but to present honestly the feelings and actions of a serious hunter. I have never found it easy to explain hunting to someone who doesn't already understand. But I am compelled to try, for this ancient and essentially honorable activity means a great deal to me. At the same time, I am a devout lover of wild nature—the backcountry and its denizens, my little mountain acreage, my family, a few close friends, reading and writing are my life—and I loathe the idea of being considered an insensitive slob simply because some of those who hunt, in fact, are.

Remember: The world is full of slobs, and only a few of them are hunters. According to a study conducted for the Wildlife Legislative Fund of America by the University of Michigan's Institute for Social Research, only some 15% of Americans (around 17 million) are active hunters. A much smaller minority, 4.7%, profess to be "staunchly against hunting." The remaining 80% are nonhunters, most of whom hold no strong opinions one way or the other about hunting per se, though the conduct of some hunters may give them pause.

Another recent survey revealed that hunters feel more strongly about their sport than do enthusiasts of any other outdoor recreational activity. Why? More, why do people hunt at all these easy days? Do moral justifications exist for killing wild animals in an age when most people no longer have to use violence (other than that of the marketplace) to get their daily meat? When I lived in urban southern California my answer would have been an equivocal no. I experienced my first deer hunt at age 14—a week in eastern Oklahoma's wild and woolly Cookson Hills with a school pal, unaccompanied by adults—and followed the activity with great fervor for years thereafter. But my priorities abruptly changed when my fickle employer during the late '60s and early '70s, the Marine Corps, bounced me around the globe for a while then plopped me down in SoCal.

In that place and time I had neither the opportunity nor the desire to hunt. Then I moved again, this time to the rural Rockies with elk and deer quite literally wandering through my yard (granted, it's a big yard, and I own only a small piece of it). And here I am, hunting again and loving it more than ever. I doubt that my experience is unique; far more than we commonly realize, our physical surroundings help shape not just our lifestyles, but our most heartfelt moral values. Hunting always has been and continues to be primarily a rural activity. That is, a much higher percentage of country folk hunt than do the residents of cities and suburbs. A primary reason for this is that those of us who live in the country have easier access to the forests and fields that support wildlife; if I had to travel a great many miles to reach over hunted areas crowded with other nimrods, I wouldn't. A second reason more country folk hunt than do their city cousins is that ruralists live nearer to the everyday workings of the food chain and thus have a clearer view of life and death and their interdependence.

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