Hunt2Prove
On the Hunt for a Better Version of Ourselves, the Forests We Steward, & the Wildlife we Love!
The River of Hunting is Drying Up…
Hunter recruitment was the most talked about item at the 2015 Deer Summit hosted by the National Deer Alliance, The Quality Deer Management Association, & other deer partners. And, although improving recruitment numbers focused on the meat that wild game provides and what quantifying that natural, organic relationship between hunter and beast may do to increase our ranks – do we really want more hunters in the woods?
Hunter recruitment is much like a branch of tributaries feeding the river called hunting. Since the day our ancestors put down their bows and guns and picked up the hoe and mattock; since camp fires where extended families of hunters would gather to share their stories from the field and cook the day’s wild bounty were traded for ovens and domesticated meat; and, since check in stations where fortunate hunters would go to document their harvest and fellowship with other hunters have been replaced by 1-800 – I GOT ONE – Hunter numbers have fallen, various tributaries that once helped to keep hunter levels on the rise, having since been diverted to feed other pursuits. We all know that technological advance comes with its advantages. Like most of you, I like coming home to a hot shower and a bed with a mattress; I like riding in my truck rather than riding a horse to work everyday; I most certainly like being able to hop on my tractor to plow a field; and even though I hate to admit it, that automated lady on the other end of that 1-800 number is quite convenient at times.
What’s disconcerting is the thought that our hunting way of life has suffered in the wake of this industrial revolution, and is continuing to suffer because our original form of recruitment, word-of-mouth and the need to hunt for food isn’t exactly how it flows anymore – at least not on the same scale as once before. How do we combat this? And, if every American were to pick up a gun or bow and head off to what was once “your” favorite hunting ground, is that something that you’d be ok with? Would it be good for hunting in general and, more importantly for the game we chase or the landscape we chase them on? Those are questions we must ask ourselves when probing if, when, and how to recruit more hunters. Let’s face it –we don’t like encroachment; it’s in our nature. In generations past, when a hunting ground would prove less fertile because of intrusion by others, we picked up our belongings and moved westward until finally the day came where we couldn’t move anymore.
Regardless of your personal take on this issue, recruiting new hunters is, and always will be, essential to preserving our hunting heritage. Back then we hunted and shared hunting to stay alive. Today, things are different. We hunt and share hunting not because we have to, but because we want to, because we need to. Need to, you ask? Ethical hunters are the conservationists of this world. The money we spend on licensing, tags, guns, bows, and other hunting items plays an epic role in the continuance and progression of vital conservation programs. Our participation and volunteer roles with conservation organizations, such as The Quality Deer Management Association & the National Wild Turkey Federation, is essential to their very being. Our role as hunters, as the stewards of the 2nd Amendment is perhaps more important today than ever before.
The tributary to recruiting new hunters is fed by many branches itself, the story of putting meat on the table and how good that wild, organic meal may be for you being just one of them, albeit an important one. The main tributary keeping the river of hunting flowing has and always will be – The sharing of your hunting story and all that comes with it, even the meat. Hunting is important to a hunter, not so much to a non-hunter. In sharing our story, perhaps we can inflame the curiosity of the non-hunter to the point that they seek to experience what we as hunters experience, whether in the hunt itself, the kill, or in the eating of that wild, healthy, all-organic meal. When a river dries up for reasons within our control we find ways to re-divert the flow of water back into it, breaking down any dams or barriers standing in the way of the flow. It’s time for us to break down the barriers that exist between hunters and non-hunters whatever they may be. Share your story, keep the river flowing.
Salt Water, Sand, Sun…
Salt water, sand, and sun…and Kids! The definition of the word beach comes in many forms. For me that definition is a 3-hour drive to the East – My deep connection with it stemming from childhood – I was fortunate enough to have parents who loved it themselves, privileged just enough to spend several weekends over the course of summer swimming in the “big pond”. According to family lore, my first vocal reaction to seeing the ocean was something akin to the following: “Daddy, it’s a big pond – I wanna get in it, I wanna get in it”. Get in it is what I did – I was three or four years old then, and to me, the beach meant army shovels and sand castles, swimming and putt-putt, fried shrimp, late summer nights with the Drifters, and hot summer days with the Beach Boys. I would have no idea what it meant to my parents until some years later when I would become an uncle and later a parent, myself.
Sand, by nature, is abrasive and has the ability to shape and polish. The healing power of salt-water is more than mythological – it’s factual. The sun, to the right degree, showers us with essential vitamins we need. Working together, on a beach, these three elements have the power to transform a person. Take one component away or take each piece of this delicate puzzle to a different spot on the map and its meaning changes. Sand in a box box is just sand. Salt water in a glass is just salt water. Sun, without water of any kind, can be a searing nuisance that we all hate to see. At the beach, one chemical reaction gives way to another and in tandem the response is transcendent, spiritual and soulful in nature– at least for me. A year is a lifetime, over the course of which many things can happen, both good and bad. Layers upon layers of life and living compound and like dead and dying skin, our souls, in order to shine, require cleansing, reviving, and generating anew.
Our time there, away from the real world, would begin and end on a Saturday, the week in between filled with smiles, laughter, relaxation, and above all things – Love; five adults, eight kids – One big, barrel of fun. Cody, Ashton, Chloe, Jordan, Dalton, Allee, Matthew, & Savanna – ages four to sixteen –they helped further invigorate the soul stirring reaction of salt water, sand, & sun that we found at the base of the dunes; they helped Sailfish Street come to life. Mornings began early with the smell of bacon and eggs permeating the salty air – Pounds of bacon, dozens of eggs – feeding eight hungry children, the second closest thing to work us adults would experience all week. The first being the daily movement of the necessary items from the house to the beach and back again – Our white canopy tent, a plethora of chairs, sand toys, boogie boards, coolers filled with refreshments for kids and adults alike, snacks, sunscreen, more sunscreen, and finally a football. Days meant dodging the sharks that were causing such a life-altering stir at the next beach up, nights meant dodging the sharp oyster beds found just off the edge of our dock at the bottom of the canal – venturing out amongst the sharks and the oysters, tricky, yet good for our being; the risk to wash away a lifetime worth of troubles worth it in the end. Each adult, each child putting their own, unique stamp on our week away from the typical life of work and school that we live back home. Like kindred spirits our connection became stronger as we raised the flag to mail away our plights, as we raised the flag in hopes of a better tomorrow.
As we crossed back over the intercostal waterway and onto the mainland of North Carolina I could feel my mind fully transitioning back to reality. Life is a hunt to prove we are something meaningful, a hunt to find that version of ourselves, which constitutes the best we have to offer this world and those we come to know. A week’s worth of sand helped to shape and polish me into a better man; a week’s worth of salt water helped to wash away the fragments of my being that had become too much to bear; a week’s worth of the sun’s rays penetrated my soul and helped to restore it’s radiance; and, a week’s worth of eight kids gave me inspiration, gave me hope. Through their eyes I saw my life as it once was; a dream-like glimpse of what’s to come; and, over the course of a week’s time I was able to see life again for what it is: A gift – where the special mixture that is salt water, sand, sun, and kids comes just when we need it, to help us climb out of the valleys of everyday living and back to that higher place where we can see the true purpose of our existence. Life isn’t always beautiful, which is exactly why we need those moments that are. 
Photos from the Wilder side of Life!
