Do the Dirty Work…

I was told by my father growing up, “Once you pull the trigger, that’s when the work begins.” Like most things, he’s right. The dirty work of hunting is often glossed over by some of the outdoor content we watch, and I get it. This part of our lifestyle is not glamorous. It’s somewhat gruesome, and is often what turns people, especially those sheepish about hunting to begin with, away from acceptance of the sport. Even some hunters find ways to distance themselves from the realities of our harvests. Let me, however, take a minute to attempt to flip this script on the more macabre’ parts of the hunting process. 

            When the bullet leaves the gun… Or arrow leaves the string… Or spear leaves your hand… (I don’t know your life, but you get the picture), your responsibilities have immediately changed. Whatever you had planned takes a backseat, and you are now obligated to respect, honor, and take care of your harvest. To me, it damages the spirit of the relationship between predator and prey when you aren’t involved in as many aspects as you possibly can be. All of what many would see as the, “gross stuff,” have come to be some of my favorite parts. Not for any reason that would make me a suspect on a murder podcast, but for this. Most hunting, and deer hunting especially, is somewhat of a solitary pursuit. The aftermath and subsequent labor is social and made to be shared. 

            Here’s a side note to all my friends. I have always, and will always be ready and pumped for a pack out. You might call it a drag, literally and figuratively, but whatever you call getting your animal out of the woods, I am in! How far do we have to go? I don’t care! If I’ve got the time, I want to be there.

            I absolutely love this part of the experience. Especially when you get a chance to be on the blood trail as well. To feel the roller coaster of emotions that you go through in those moments with a buddy. “Which way was it facing… Here’s some blood… I got a little up here.. Right here…”. Then, finally that slow tedious process turns into either complete adulation, or complete despair. In either outcome, I want to be there. I love to be standing behind the antlers, or turkey fan just as much as anyone. I also want everyone I know to experience it too. I will never get over how I feel being a part of a successful hunt, whether I flung the arrow or not. So, if any of you kill one way back in the backcountry and don’t know if you have the means to get it out, holler at me. I’m ready to go! Knife sharpened.

            The sharing doesn’t end there. Standing around a hanging buck, holding a warm cup of mediocre, deer camp coffee in a barn that looks like a gentle breeze could make it meet its end is the setting for many of my adolescent memories. Hearing my father and his friends recount stories of the day, and stories of deer seasons many moons removed. The celebrating and commiserating that happens as everyone pitches in to help are the most vivid memories I hold. I can remember waiting for my father to get home and watching out the front window to see if his headlights would turn through the yard to head down to the backyard where he would hang and skin the deer. Other days the phone would ring, my mother would pile my sister and I into the car and drive to whichever family friend’s house had killed a deer that day. It was the most exciting thing in the world for a young me. To see a community come together, not for the shooting of the animal, but for the work. 

            If you are currently abstaining from the work that comes after the kill, I hope you’ll come to revere these actions instead of dreading them. Feeling the power of the cycle that is Life, Death, Consumption, back to life is staggering. The work is what reminds you that you are not an observer of nature, but an active participant. You too, have skin in this game. Also, that life isn’t a video game. Your decisions have consequences and heavy consequences at that.  Without the work aspect of hunting, there is an upset in balance. A balance that can only be found in nature. The nature we go into to forget about the wreck we have made of our “civilization.” I suppose in the end, wrecking the balance is the most human thing we could do. 

Pessimistic ending right? Maybe that pessimism will lead more of you to think, and more of you to act. That is my hope.