Why I Hunt

Father & son high up the West Fork of the Bitterroot

The other day, someone semi-criticized me for being a hunter.  That's fine.  Everyone seems to have their own opinion of hunting and those who do it.  I am not a "blood thirsty killer."  To be honest, I don't like killing an animal, nor do I like gutting one after it's down.  So why do I do it?  There are several reasons.
Hunting is one of the best ways to enjoy the great outdoors. There is something special about climbing a ridgeline, walking on freshly fallen snow through a thick stand of ponderosa pines, watching the sun rise above the mountains, and enjoying the fresh air and odors of being in the forest.

Hunting is a great way to bond and create memories.  My grandpas both hunted as a means of support for their families.  My father grew up with that traditional mentality too.  He only ever took me big game hunting one time, but I still remember quite a bit about it.  I remember the songs on the radio on the way there.  I remember hiking over the Canadian hills for hours.  I remember seeing a herd of deer far off in the valley below.  I remember coming face to face with a moose that was so close I could've hit it with a football.  I also remember going home empty-handed, but that didn't seem to matter.  It was all about just me, the youngest of three boys, and my dad spending the entire day together.

I since had many opportunities to have similar experiences with my son.  Sure, we had a number of outings that ended up with game in the back of the pickup, but hunting is about much more than that.  I remember "hoofing it" up a steep ridge in deep snow on the trail of an elk herd we never caught.  We were so tired and had sweat dripping down our faces that we eventually plopped down in the snow to catch our breath and busted out homemade jerky, which brought smiles to our faces.  I remember being with my son and others when we saw a huge herd of elk.  Jace picked one out fom 200 yards away and dropped it. That was the first elk taken in at least three Holyoak generations, if not more than that.  It was a glorious day together.  I also remember taking my youngest daughter with me--just once.  She didn't mind the hike but did not like having to keep her voice down to a whisper for several hours.  That still brings a smile to my face. 

It is a thrill to see wildlife.  Of course, the best thrill is to see the species of animal you seek, but it's much more than that.  I recently spent more than two hours so close to an elk herd I could not only see them but I could hear them chirp, bark and call to each other.  I watched the lead cow look in all directions to try to seek out any dangers for the rest of the herd, much like a mother hen would for her chicks.  I once had an entire elk herd pass right in front of me only 10 to 15 yards away.  Several of them stopped and got into lengthy staring contests with me.  I guess they were trying to figure out what I was.  I dared not flinch.  They eventually just kept walking so I watched 60 of them, one by one, walk right in front of me.  I watched coyotes frolic and play on hillsides, a fox carefully trot through the snow, and grouse suddenly pop up--seemingly right from under my feet.  That was more than enough in the calm woods to give me a "heart attack."  Once, another coyote ran at me and a friend from hundreds of yards away.  It eventually veered off only 10 yards in front of us.  During another outing in the high country, I almost stepped on a snow hare.  I only noticed it because of a slight movement and the color of its eyes.  During one outing in grizzly country, I saw something black move behind a stand of small pine trees.  That certainly got my attention.  I've always wanted to see a bear while hunting, but not necessarily a grizzly (if you know what I mean).  Luckily, in this case, it turned out to be one of a group of six black mules that eventually gave me an escort, of sorts, as I headed down the mountain.

Hunting is great way to stay in shape.  I am definitely not a fan of getting up well before the crack of dawn and driving to a favorite hunting spot, but many times you have to do so in order to be in the best position to find game.  I often leave my truck 90 minutes before sunrise to start an ascent into the mountains.  It's crazy to realize how far and how high you can climb in such a short time.  Just look at a given mountain and imagine what it would be like to climb to the top of it.  That's what hunters do--from bottom to top to bottom again.  And for me, that's something I do all before going to work that afternoon. 

The main reason I hunt is for the meat.  A deer tag for a Montana resident costs $16.  An elk tag costs $20.  Of course, that doesn't include the cost of a hunting enhancement, a conservation license, bullets, gas, and other equpment and supplies.  But still, in this day and age, that is a bargain--especially if you are successful.  We have been blessed with a great deal of success over our eight years of hunting.  My son and I combined to shoot two elk and ten deer.  We also had a friend donate a whitetail doe he shot.  The bottom line is we did not buy any beef, other than pre-made hamburger patties for the barbeque, over that time.  And thanks to two harvested whitetail bucks and one cow elk this past season, the freezer is full of roasts, steaks, tenderloins, stew meat, jerky, and ground venison.  On top of that, we really like the flavor!