Modern Hunting, Ancient Philosophy

Image Gallery Why do we hunt? For meat, trophies, challenge, companionship, the simple pleasure of being outdoors? In part, we hunt because we are biologically and psychologically predisposed to do so. And just as we need them, the animals we hunt need to be hunted in order to stay wild, healthy and free. In “A Man Made of Elk,” accomplished nature writer and avid hunter David Petersen looks at our human hunting history, the role of predation in a thriving ecosystem, and what it means to be an ethical hunter in today’s culture of “techno-hunting,” convenience and ego. Petersen also shares insightful anecdotes and sage advice gleaned from his decades of traditional bowhunting. COVER: TBM INC., BOISE, IDAHO

The following is an excerpt from A Man Made of Elk by David Petersen (TBM Inc., Boise, Idaho, 2007). In this beautifully written exploration of the hunter’s heart, Petersen, former Western Editor for MOTHER EARTH NEWS, traces humanity’s evolution in cooperation with wild creatures and shares his own personal tales of the hunt — tales in which meat and antlers are secondary rewards compared with the pleasure of just being out in the wild. Petersen also presents ways in which we can shape stronger and more meaningful hunting ethics for ourselves and for the next generation of hunters. This excerpt is from Chapter 28, “Modern Hunting, Ancient Philosophy.” 

The out-of-doors is our true ancestral estate. For a mere few thousand years we have grubbed in the soil and laid brick upon brick to build the cities; but for millions of years before that we lived the leisurely, free and adventurous life of hunters and gatherers. How can we pluck that deep root of feeling from the racial consciousness? Impossible! — Edward Abbey

Why do we hunt?

More precisely: Why do so many among us want to hunt, and why does it feel so deeply satisfying when we do it well? Digging as deeply into our hearts and minds as we can manage and bear, what might be the ultimate source of our shared need to hunt, the prime mover underlying all other, more visible and measurable motivations? What hidden engine powers the more obvious drives — those things we so often name as “reasons” for hunting but which in fact are merely among its more easily identifiable rewards — including meat, trophies, challenge, companionship, and the far-flung pleasures of being outdoors?

Assuming that such a prime mover can be identified, we then must ask whether it provides a suitable foundation upon which to base a revitalized hunting philosophy today. If not, we may well be in trouble. But I say yes, and yes. There is a universal, bottom-line reason we hunt, and it does provide a rock-solid base for rethinking and revitalizing our current hunting philosophy, which is horribly crippled.

As often as possible in mid-August, just before elk season opens, I visit the San Luis Valley in south-central Colorado to camp and bowhunt the wily pronghorn. It’s a vast, eerily beautiful place, wrapped around by blue-green mountains, with the big beige crotch of Great Sand Dunes National Park anchoring the northeast corner. The area I hunt is heavily vulcanized, sparsely vegetated, dramatically lonely-looking, and holds a special attraction in that it, like the Alaskan tundra, makes me feel that I’ve time-traveled back to the Pleistocene. And in fact, the San Luis Valley is rich in deep-time archeological sites.