While driving into my real job yesterday, I was listening to the radio (as I am wont to do) and a filler section devoted to listener e-mails came on. Now normally I tune this out and go about my merry task of driving, but yesterday an e-mail from a hunter was read on air, and it both caught my attention and prompted me to write this post.
All posts by Shawn West
Underrated
I got into a heated debate the other day with someone about the concept of “underrated “.
We were discussing underrated drummers and the person in question asserted that Neil Peart was the most underrated drummer of all time. Now this is patently ridiculous, since Neil Peart is underrated only in comparison say, John Bonham or Keith Moon, insofar as drummers go. Some drummers who are actually underrated, I argued, were Stewart Copeland or John Densmore, or other guys you’ve never heard of who are absolutely sick, tehcnically gifted drummers who just toil away behind the kit and don’t get tricky nicknames.
But as usual, a conversation not related to hunting is being applied to hunting.
Maybe it is the dirty, windy, rainy, cold weather in this part of Ontario that’s got me itching to chase some ducks, or the fact that deer season is rapidly approaching, or that my family and friends are moose hunting and I’m secretly envious of them all. Whatever it is, I’ve been thinking about the underrated aspects of hunting and how great they are. Some of them are becoming casualties of the modern approach to hunting, others (like moustaches) are experiencing a renaissance that is both interesting and disconcerting. So here’s a list of some of the things that don’t get the respect or attention they deserve.
Pass-Shooting Waterfowl
Perhaps it is the focus on all the paraphenalia that must be sold to waterfowl hunters these days, or maybe it is a symptom of our sedentary, “everything should be easy” approach to modern life, but nobody gives pass-shooting any respect. I don’t want to get more angry emails from waterfowlers so I will admit that ultra-realistic decoys, layout blinds, and breakthroughs in camouflage have made waterfowling more accesible, successful, and has arguably, with severely reduced ranges becoming the norm (don’t believe me? Find one outfitter that doesn’t boast shooting inside of 20 yards) cut down on crippled and lost birds. But reduced ranges and super-fast shotgun loads has also basically killed the arts of wingshooting, especially pass shooting. There used to be a mathematical precision, a feel, a sweet spot to shotgunning ducks and geese. Now, you almost don’t even have to bother with leading the birds…this has been a boon to myself and others who are terrible wingshooters, but its still kind of sad. I also contend, with no evidence other than empirical observation, that the decline in shooting ability has actually increased sky-busting. Shooter confidence is sky-high, and it leads to shooting at birds that are exactly that. The older generation can just plain old shoot, and I attribute that to pass-shooting practice.
Walking In
A sound that I have almost become deaf to (because it has become so prevalent) is the distant hum of an ATV. Once again, I’m not some reactionary traditionalist. ATVs are great when you’ve got a moose, bear, or deer down in some godforsaken swamp or cedar thicket that is as impenetrable as a Vietnam jungle. But for many they have become the default means of getting into their spots, which is too bad. There’s so much that goes unappreciated when tearing through the bush on four wheels; things that the hunter who hikes in gets to see and hear. I like an extra couple minutes of sleep as much as the next hunter but a still, early morning walk into a dimly lit forest is an experience worth getting up for. Hearing the metallic ‘snick-snick’ of rifle cartridges sliding into place, stopping to listen for a deer with your breath hanging heavy around your head on a crisply frosted morning, and exposing the forest around you to the narrow-eyed peregrinations of a hunter stalking their prey all speed past in a blur on an ATV. Not to mention the damage to fresh sign and the pastoral tranquility of the hunt that the ATV wreaks. So this season, put some miles on…your boots.
Eating over a Fire
There was a time, so the deer camp elders say, when the hunting stock from which I am derived would have an outdoor fire on almost every suitable day of deer season (and even on a few unsuitable days) and toast some bread and meat on a split stick in the middle of the day before retiring for a brief nap under a tree. I get the impression that my great-uncles, grandfather, and other deer hunters that preceded me hunted all day long and only returned to camp for dinner and sleep. Keep in mind that these are deer camp recollections so their veracity is debatable at best, but it seems to me that lunch starts earlier and earlier every year we go deer hunting, and although we’ve done it once or twice in my deer-hunting career, we don’t often pack in a lunch and have an impromptu early November cookout. The times we’ve done it have been exceptional; building the fire up, whittling down a long, forked twig, using an old stump as a cutting board/prep table, squatting next to a fire with a sandwich balanced in the ‘hot-zone’ over some glowing coals, leaning against a tree, fallen log, or maybe the above-mentioned stump and savoring a toasty treat. All memories to cherish. I vote we do it more often.
Orienteering
I covet my cousin’s GPS. There’s one on my Christmas list this year. But I also get a smug sense of satisfaction from navigating my way through the woods with a compass. Sure it isn’t orienteering by the sun (I’m just simply not that hardcore) but picking out a landmark, navigating to it, and then picking out another landmark and doing it again as a means of getting to a destination has me at least under some semi-delusions that I have some skills as a woodsman. And I like that feeling. Still a new Garmin would be pretty kick-ass.
Gas Lanterns
It is nice to have a deer camp that is fully wired and generator compatible. We can play CDs, charge batteries for digital cameras, power a water heater, and run a ceiling fan that keeps the heat from the woodstoves (and the reek of a dozen unwashed men) circulating through the camp. But late in the evening, when hunters tired out from bushwhacking start to slip off to bed and the generator is switched off, some of us stay up, sip brews, and tell lies to each other. Our constant companion is the hiss of a Coleman lantern. My dad brings one of the old “pump” models and the sadly departed Frank Sweet had an even older one that was pitted, rusty, and absolutely effective at casting light and a modicum of close-quarters heat. I think old Franko’s lantern had also seen a few hairy trips by sailboat around Georgian Bay and the Great Lakes, and with those gas lights hissing away the log walls breathed ambience. Many a laugh and a story has floated over the tops of those old Colemans. They are also the sole source of light in the early deer camp mornings (since we all see little point in running the generator for that short a time) or when the generator breaks down, which has in reality only happened once. There’s a new, battery operated Coleman in camp, which is fine because it acheives the same functional purpose as its fuel-driven predecessor, but it is found to be sorely lacking in what it adds to that nebulous and ill-defined concept of “camp-feel”.
There’s so much more about hunting that is underrated. Living alone in the forest. Turning a tree into firewood. Getting soaked to the bone and suffering martyr-like for the opportunity to take a turkey, duck, or deer. I’m sure I’ll find the time to write more about it soon.
Taboo of the Day: Being a Jerk
My thanks to the internet at large for giving me a seemingly endless well of bad behaviour and boorish opinions on which to base these Taboo of the Day posts. Yes, I fully understand the irony of writing an internet blog and using it as an outlet to make light of the opinions expressed on the internet. Moving on.
So I happen to have an account on a certain multi-billion dollar social network site, which is a trait that I have that in common with a few billion people. On this site, there is a group which I have elected to become a member of, and this group’s purpose is to bring hunters together to talk about things, share photos and stories, and generally serve as a sounding board for hunters in Ontario. As usual, cyberspace (if people even call it that anymore) seems to give some people the confidence to say basically anything they want. Again…irony.
In Ontario, we have a recently enacted addition to the Fish and Wildlife Conservation Act. The link to it is here. Basically, no deer parts or products containing any parts of a deer (including urine, gland oils, etc) can be used as a deer attractant. Like it or not, its the law. I for one don’t particularly care as I’ve never used attractants heavily (or really at all) and their use in my circle of hunting friends is limited at best. I’m not a wildlife biologist, nor do I aspire to be one even on an amateur basis, so when “the law” says don’t do it, I don’t do it.
I won’t name the group or the individual in question (that would be bad form) but basically, another member was quite vocal in the fact that they intended to intentionally subvert the above law, primarily because they did not agree with the law’s intent or execution. Which is where this Taboo of the Day comes in.
I said my piece in the forum, because that’s what it is for, but something about the exchange stuck in craw. The person in question had a variety of excuses (which is precisely what they were) including absolute certainty that they would not get caught, a variety of disparaging things to say about the Ministry of Natural Resources and the enforcement practices of Ontario’s Conservation Officers, and a very real belief that their approach was in the best interest of hunters at large (since in their opinion all laws regulating hunting are the product of a weak governmental system and intrusion by the boogieman of ‘anti-hunting’ and therefore are to, via extrapolation, be opposed). It is important to note that the individual in question had no support in the forum and every other post (as of today) was on the ‘legal’ side of the argument.
But this raises a topic that I think needs discussion.
Does opposition philosophically or otherwise to a law, as they pertain to hunting, mean that one should be able to not comply with them. If you’re a rational person, I think you’d probably say that the answer is “no”. When it comes to hunting, the law is the law, like it or not.
Some examples? Sure.
I think that the gun control law in Canada is misguided. But I sure as hell registered every gun I have.
I think that waterfowl seasons are too short. But once the calendar turns and the season closes, I’m not out there still gunning.
Even though I don’t moose hunt I can say after reviewing it that the moose tag system in Ontario is in need of some overhauling, but I think it best that if you don’t have a tag for a bull moose, you don’t shoot a bull moose.
I’m usually not this narrow in my thinking but like I said when it comes to the rules I feel that they have to be followed. And here’s why.
I’ve already gotten a lot of emails (some that were quite personal) since starting this blog from those who feel it is perfectly fine to infringe on game laws provided that they aren’t caught, and they think that my efforts to promote lawful hunting is some sort of infringement on their natural rights. I’d go so far as to call some of it hate mail. That’s fine.
To flog a dead horse, I’ll reiterate something from a few Taboo of the Day posts, a statement that while obvious to me, has caused me no end of controversy in my inbox. Modern hunting is no longer a right. I’m sorry.
The reasons are numerous and certainly fodder for another post, but the bottom line is that we as a group hunt as a privilege in this the 21st century. Very, very few of us rely on wild game for subsistence, and while we as a group certainly do inject millions of dollars into conservation and habitat conservation (facts that we should all be exceedingly proud of) our image is the most important thing we have. Pig-headedly acting outside the legislation is one of the worst things (outside of outright poaching) that we can do as a group.
To put it simply we cannot pick and choose the laws we want to obey. Because even though we act individually, we are judged all together. If you want to have a smooth go of it, play by the rules. I have no sympathy (or time, or even a liking for) those who do it otherwise, because they cost us all. They cost us opportunities to hunt, they cost us landowner permission, and they cost us all the hard work we put in trying to show the non-hunting public the positive side of the pastime we all love so much. Maybe I’m just a hopeless optimist, but being a self-important, stubborn jerk in the face of any law or whatever else that you feel does not fit within your worldview of what hunting is or should be (like opinions such as these expressed here for example) only serves to damage what generations ahead of us worked to build, which is a sustainable, respected tradition. There are plenty of those out there who would disparage hunting, we don’t need those within our own ranks to help them out.
But by saying all this, have I become the self-important, stubborn jerk that I so disdain? Maybe. I guess it depends on your perspective. An interesting thing I’ve learned in my life is that you can almost never change a person’s mind; so if you’re nodding in agreement with my opinions, odds are you already felt the same way I do. If you’re so enraged with me that you’re contemplating all sorts of verbal abuse and hate mail, I imagine that you started out this post with that mindset. Which is okay, because I can take it. What I can’t take is the acts of the few denying me and the many patriots of hunting the enjoyment of the thing we love.
So please, when you make that choice of what side of any hunting law you are going to live on, worry a little less about a fine, or getting caught, or coming up with justifications for why what you do is okay, and worry about the future of hunting at large. Because it sounds cliche I know, but is a deer or one more goose or whatever it is you’re chasing, or your own righteous opinions about what is right and wrong in the woods worth hanging a bad name on all of us?
If stating things like that makes me the enemy of the hunting community, maybe I’ve got this whole thing ass-backwards. I don’t make the rules, I just follow them.
When a Plan Comes Together
Angry clouds and teeming rain were my constant companions as I made the drive from Mississauga to Lion’s Head. The opening of duck season, and the re-opening (after a five day hiatus) of goose season, loomed a mere 12 hours away. We call it the “Double Opener Weekend” and it is cause for celebration and anticipation in our little group of diehard waterfowlers. The weather was dirty, and the tiny engine of my Pontiac commuter car whirred loud in protest as I lashed it onward against crosswinds and standing water on Highway #6. I already knew that this was to be the last Double Opener Weekend for the little hatchback, and it was stuffed to the gills with a layout blind, boots, snacks, beverages, and the various and sundry clothing, accessories, and bric-a-brac that weighs down a waterfowler’s vehicle and lays waste to their fuel economy.
I was battling the onset of a head cold and felt the pressure and fullness of it growing around my eyes and nose. The barometer was playing see-saw and my sinuses and ears were alternating between drained and bursting for the duration of the three hour tour up to the camp. I gnawed on jalapeno beef jerky and sipped fresh orange juice (a flavor sensation if there ever was one!) before stopping in to have a friend’s wife trim what meager hair I have remaining. I sat and had a visit with them and their two children, before I stole my friend from his home and made my way to the cabin with him.
The cabin was raucous with the sounds of over twenty grown men laughing and telling stories, all shouting to be heard and trading innocuous verbal jabs at one another’s flaws, spouses, jobs, education, and hunting abilities. The remains of what was once a few pizzas sat on a table while the rest of the spread consisted of chips and dip. We shared drinks, cigars, stories, jokes, and remembrances, and we eventually devised the plans for the morning hunt. Everywhere you looked there was wide-eyed joy and anticipation, good times, and that vague generalization known as “male bonding”. I had been unable to attend last year and as I stood with one of my fellow hunters, each with a heavy arm around the other’s shoulder I was asked “Did you miss this?!” My answer?
Saturday Morning’s Take (L-R: Rory, myself, Dane) |
The fruits of pond-jumping on Saturday afternoon |
Saturday Evening’s Set-up |
Yours truly watching the northern sky on Satruday afternoon |
Donavon with a mallard on Saturday afternoon |
A foggy morning’s walk into the field |