What it Really Means…

It’s Fall – that time of year when my soul begins to awaken, much like an old negative in a dark room slowly beginning to display a hint of color. Fall means deer season; most specifically, the time of year when White-Tailed Deer here in North Carolina display their true majesty as they work towards securing a mate and thus a future for their species. For upwards of 4 million years deer have roamed the landscape. One might think that during such an expanse of that deer would become, to the human, the ordinary, everyday-boring, nothing special.   Yet, their sight, their awe-inspiring presence is still enough to captivate after all of the eons, especially when viewed through the eyes of a hunter. I like to study deer, photograph them, hunt them, eat them, and share with others what deer and deer hunting mean to me.

When I began my journey as a deer hunter I didn’t see things as clearly as I see them now and, although fascinated with their presence, I was, more frankly, concerned with bringing one home to uplift my own being.  Humility wasn’t a word I could then define. I hunted for that day; that ephemeral moment; that short window of time; and, for outgrowths of calcium & phosphorous that I couldn’t eat – I hunted for myself. Some hunters are born with the mindset to conserve and share; with the conviction to think about what’s best for the game we seek; what’s best for the tradition; and, what’s best for future of the lands we roam.   I wasn’t one of them. Somewhere on the proving grounds of life I had to earn those character traits. That road to a better me began one evening in Lee County, NC when at five yards, the third arrow released from my bow finally ended a drawn out affair that could have been different had I thought more about what I was shooting at and why.   Inadvertently, I may have been playing the part of conservationist, but I certainly wasn’t thinking, acting, or hunting like one. In her eyes I saw something moving, and as those red drops of fading life painted the forest floor and the air expelled from her lungs, I felt something that I’d never felt before in the taking of an animal, something deeper and less fleeting than elation and joy – I felt humbled.

Fifteen years later I still hunt for those short-lived moments of elation and joy, yet I find them in places that I never knew I could.  Back then I adorned the title of “deer hunter” as a way of bringing attention to myself.  Today, I’m still not the hunter I aspire to be.  I’m still growing, learning, & hunting to prove that I can be better in all walks of life.  And, with each Fall that God gives, I will continue my journey to define what it really means to be a hunter.