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Add to FavoritesMy years are measured in hunting seasons.
Both of my grandfathers were deer hunters. My father was a deer hunter. Even my mother has hunted. I always assumed that my sons would be hunters too. Nevertheless, if my sons are any indication, PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) has no reason for concern regarding an increase in future hunters and hunting.
Some of my earliest recollections are of hunting season: Flickering firelight from the old wood burning stove, reflected on the sheet metal and rafters of the old hunting cabin; my grandfather silhouetted against the stove as he prepared breakfast; the smell of bacon and biscuits; how good the heavy blankets felt as I waited for the cabin to warm. I was privileged to be born into a family who owned land. My grandfather ranched fifteen hundred acres of prime Texas hill country near Fredericksburg. By the mid nineteen fifties, he had come to realize that there was almost as much money to be made from paying deer hunters as there was in ranching. So each fall, opening weekend would find he and my father, and from the time I was four years old, me, waking up in the old clay tile hunting cabin at the ranch.
As a boy growing up in the early sixties, hunting was as natural as breathing. School day afternoons were spent with my best friend stalking birds with our BB guns. Shooting varmints with our 22's soon followed. Looking back, I wince at the wanton destruction we wreaked among the local wildlife. But those were different times, different sensibilities. The things we did were not at all uncommon for boys growing up in rural Texas. By the time I started school, I was allowed to sit in a deer blind with my father. The hunting season before I turned ten, I was finally allowed to hunt on my own. I would like to be able to relate that I bagged my first deer that season. But that would be untrue. Instead, my first buck came two seasons later. From that time on, my hunting seasons blend one with another; splendid fall afternoons and crisp winter nights; cold December mornings and the late afternoon sun warming my numbed fingers.
In the beginning, it looked like my boys would follow in my footsteps. Both boys bagged their first deer early. My oldest son, Cody, harvested his first buck when he was ten. Blayne, my youngest son, killed his first buck at thirteen. My Daughter? "Eewww Gross!" But as Bob Dylan sang "the times they are a-changing". Although Cody was born while we lived in Llano (pop. 2,608 at the time), by the time Blayne and Brianne were born we had taken up residence in Austin. Whereas I had grown up with open fields and country streams, they grew up with asphalt and smog. Society was changing also. I remember how shocked Blayne was when he was nearly expelled from middle school because he had forgotten to take the single, unfired 22 cartridge, left over from the weekend, from his blue jeans pocket. The world was also becoming more sensitive to environmental and conservation issues. It was no longer socially acceptable in urban society to be a hunter. But although all of these things affected their desire to hunt, in the end, it was the myriad of distractions and enticements of city living that eventually replaced hunting in their lives.
Although I hate to admit it, these things have affected me too. I still like to hunt, but it becomes increasingly difficult to balance hunting with the myriad of responsibilities of daily living. My sensibilities have changed also. The triumph of the kill, has been replaced with the thrill of the hunt, has been replaced with serene hours admiring the grace and beauty of this animal I've spent the majority of my life hunting. I know it sounds trite, but I really DO like the taste of venison. So I still harvest my share of deer. It's just that, now, I have come to realize and appreciate what makes hunting enjoyable to me. For me, killing these beautiful animals no longer holds any attraction. It is the time spent outdoors in the beauty of creation that I love I am saddened that my sons have not discovered these things. Since they no longer hunt, I suppose this family tradition will end with me.
I still measure my years in hunting seasons. Two out of three of my children are married now. Perhaps one day one of them will have a son. Hmmm. Grandson.........? Maybe PETA should be concerned after all!
Learn more about this author, S.K. Smith.
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No
It seems as if hunters and animal rights groups are always at each others throats when deer season is about to begin. It's a shame they can't have a realistic exchange without getting angry or being narrow minded. They refuse to give an inch on either side.
In this day and age, the question of deer hunting being a sport at all is controversial. It seems that all types of hunting, not just for deer, are being portrayed as bad by some people. They simply do not understand how hunting controls the animal population and also the health of the animals themselves. I do not fault them for their love of animals, but I do question their lack of understanding.
For thousands of years deer hunting has been considered a sport. Many of the first immigrants to the Americas were forbidden to hunt in their ancestral lands. This activity was reserved for the royalty and their acquaintances to enjoy. The common people were severely punished if they poached on the king's property. Many of them risked prison to add needed meat to their meager larder. Just trapping a hare could mean imprisonment or fines.
Those early immigrants to America had to experience wonder and disbelief at now being able to hunt the varied animals that abounded in this new wilderness. This new found freedom was only the beginning of understanding what restraints they and their forefathers had lived under. Many of them had to learn from the beginning the rudiments of hunting and of protecting their families from hostile animals and the native peoples.
Over the years we have celebrated this freedom and passed it on to our children as something worth keeping and celebrating. Almost as a rite of passage. It brings us back to our ancient past when freedom was total and hunting was the difference between life and death. Though not a game, hunting requires many different skills including knowledge and patience.
According to statistics deer hunters are becoming fewer each year, but does this mean deer hunting is a dying sport? Of course not. Numbers don't determine whether something is a sport or not, nor do the people who disagree with the activity of hunting.
The answer to the dwindling number of deer hunters is simple, it costs more to hunt today and the options for other recreational activities which are easier on the wallet are many. This is because much of the previous woodlands and farming areas are now owned by fewer people and the urban population is expanding at a furious rate.
Many who would enjoy hunting of some sort are prevented by the mere cost of the basic essentials needed to get started. If you live in a large city you probably haven't been exposed to hunting unless one of your friends or family members have experienced it.
Five hundred dollars a day is not an uncommon price to pay for a quail hunt and this doesn't cover a place to stay while there. One I'm familiar with charges thirteen hundred dollars for one day of hunting with board. Acquiring a trophy buck at a similar hunting lodge can run into the thousands.
The way these places are operated is questionable as far as the true sporting beliefs run, but that's just my opinion. Pen raised birds and deer fattened by daily feeding are not really an example of true hunting but it's as close as some people get to the actual experience. I guess I can't blame them for not knowing the difference. That's something you have to acquire in rare circumstances in today's world.
It's almost as if we have come full circle from the old days of royalty to today when only the privileged few can afford this ancient pastime. No, the sport of deer hunting isn't dying, just the ability of the common man to participate in it. Many true hunters who respect and honor the privilege of this right still exist and will continue this ritual as long as man lives and predators aren't here to control the animal population for them.
Learn more about this author, Randy Godwin.
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