Spotlight on
by David Lane
Advanced Indiana
Master Naturalist
Nature
Hunting For Reason
T
his is the prime time for
hunting season. We are going
on a journey to explore some
reasons why I hunt and some
will agree with me on my answers.
I started to hunt at a very young
age, but not with a gun at first, just
walking with my father, as he carried
the gun. It was time well spent with my
dad as a rite of passage.
I was only nine years of age when
my father thought that I was responsible enough to carry a gun. My first
gun was a .410 single shot shotgun. I
thought I had the world by its tail, especially when I shot my first squirrel. However, I was taught how to hunt before
I got the gun. I learned how to listen,
how to follow the laws, the importance
of respect of the firearm, the importance of conservation of the land.
We ate what we hunted; it was
just part of growing up in our family. I
wasn’t a trophy hunter. There is some
excitement but to me it is no different
than when you apply all that you have
learned and then aced the test. That
is the excitement, in your accomplishment of using what you have learned
and then passing that knowledge on to
someone else. I feel I grew closer to my
Dad because he taught me to hunt.
I hunt because it is an enjoyable activity, stress reliever, and a right given
to us by our forefathers. Hunting is not
a cruel and ridiculous activity. Hunting is merely an activity to harvest
animals, so their meat may be used for
food. Hunting is good for conservation,
because it actually keeps the control of
animals in balance to the population.
Have you ever heard this phrase? “Give
a man a fish, you can feed him for a day.
Teach a man to fish, you can feed him for
a lifetime.”
The camaraderie, the fun and
excitement of hunting, being in the
woods, the planning, the sighting in of
your gun, the choice of ammunition,
the early morning wake-up, the breakfast, the wildlife in a natural habitat
all does something to you that cannot
be explained. The entire experience of
hunting is, being out in nature, sitting
there in the complete calm of a cold
autumn morning, the fresh air, the
sunrise, the clouds, the birds, the other
species of God’s creation.
The thrill, the excitement of
hearing the buck and doe approach,
stalking with your ears, scanning for
movement, the slow, the slightest
movement you must make to get ready
to fire, and then the rush of shouldering and the trigger pull, the satisfying
sound and recoil of the shot and the
smell of gunpowder, then the wait to
see if it’s down, and sometimes the
track of the blood through the woods
with maybe some snow. Gutting and
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