This last year, gobbler hunting, I had a slow season….Not much luck in bringing in an old boy, with long spurs…(for the uninitiated, long spurs are an indication of an old bird, and the older they are, the smarter they are, and the smarter they are, the more of a challenge they are….) So after bringing in a good number of birds with short spurs and short beards, I finally decided that the Good Lord was sending me a good bird for the pot, first….so, I finally took one on the next to last day. Well, after getting the short end of the stick shoved up me by the old birds, I waited until the last minute before calling it quits for the season, and hiking out…Well, almost to the last leg of the walk out, here jumps up in front of me the biggest long spur I have ever seen, and he hangs up there in mid-air about ten feet up, with the most gol-dern scared look on his face that I’ve ever seen! I had my old double slung over my shoulder, and faster than I have ever un-slung a gun before, had it looking down the barrel at him. Well, you know, I thought faster and moved faster than I think I could if I tried, but couldn’t pull the trigger on him….He was legally past the shooting hours….maybe only a few minutes, but he was also not one I had “brought to the gun” by my skill and turkey language.so, I left he go! And wished him luck the next season, with a loud shout and a laugh at his expression as he just knew I was going to pull the trigger on him….. Another challenge for the future!

And a good number of years, I had finally outfoxed an old swamp buck by coming in at odd hours and not making a peep, and standing out in the swamp water near an cottonmouth infested island, where a gator big enough to kill and eat a man for one sitting, was in residence…
Well, this old smart buck was clever, but here he comes in at just barely enough light for shooting hours…splash, splash…me with my old 30-30, hunkered up in a heavy jacket, carefully cocking my head to see him…Well, mister swamp buck himself, with gnarled old, black antlers from the swamp muck, had good ears, too, and he caught that little movement of mine, in cocking my head…It was then a standoff…Me, going to move first of him,,,,like an old western movie, with the bad guy drawing first..But, I figured this time, I better be the bad guy and draw down on him, while I had the jump. Well mister buck taught me a lesson that day, since I had never missed any dear that had come within 50 yards of me, even on the fly! But that day, one did! He made a move that looked perfectly like what would happen if you had taken a deer and turned him inside out by pulling his head out through his ass….I threw one at him and MISSED! The first miss in my life…I thought I was an old man that day, but blamed it on my bulky jacket! Not believing I could have missed, I went back all the way to my truck and got my old .44 mag. that I keep there, since I was going to search the swamp where the BIG gator was, and a handgun is all you want in there, if he grabs you, a rifle is just in the way….

Well after a number of years, I told my buddy that story, and he tells me the same buck pulled that same trick on him in the same swamp by the same island …and he missed TOO! We both got a laugh out of that…..

I’ve spent a lifetime being self sufficient, trekking about in the outdoors, admiring and eating many things in the forest these types of people wouldn’t have the first clue about..herbs, roots, plants, bugs, fish and game..It is there to admire and use… I just about throw up when I see these lies these people actually believe, claiming to be one of us but displaying and obvious disconnection from nature, truth, and even reality.. Some of my most awesome hunts were the challenges in the forest and a buck deer, and the buck beat me hands down…And I went to my MOUNTAIN HOME empty handed, but tickled none the less at the entertainment and another experience to add to the collection stored up in this mind.. of being out done again by and impressive buck…Once or twice that seven seconds let me tell you guys was very funny indeed, I was sneaking along one morning in the brush next to a Meadow in the Sawtooth Wilderness, and there is a slow moving stream going thru this spot..30 foot across and a couple feet deep with shallows and sand bars..I’m trying to get in position for a Bull Elk I had been stalking, when all the sudden I’m face to face with this buck, literally about six feet between us face to face…The look on his face was to die for..It seemed like and eternity, BUT I LAUGHED OUT LOUD at his shocked look..and when he blew up I had a shot, but was laughing to hard to take it..He jumped the stream at a sand bar and I had another shot, but it was no good, not clean enough for me, I was realizing in this seven seconds I knew this buck..we had played tag a few times, He was a four by four, with a cheater, and 32-34 wide spread..big black thick antlers..Well he runs about sixty yards down stream and comes back across the stream..By this time I had dropped my pack, tossed my lever gun aside..Browning 30-06..And pulled the 7mm Ultra off my back side and was running for a shot, and again I could not make it clean..so I watched him run through a couple hundred yards of standing dead lodge poles and head up to his basin, where i played him before and got beat…I was so happy this happened, I just laughed..I was lined up on him three times..But i will not shoot a deer unless I can make it over for him quick..That was not possible..Hindquarter shots just don’t cut it with me..It took me 45 minutes to find that 30-06, The camo pack was easy…I just wish i had had one of them little video cams strapped to my head, because this had to be super funny as hell…That was five years ago…Never saw the bull again either…That was one of the best mornings I ever spent in this life…

Why Hunt?

Many of us have been asked to put into words the reasons why we hunt. The problem is, the reasons and motivations that compel me and many others to hunt are pretty hard to put into print. This is my first attempt at explaining what drives me to head into the woods each hunting season.

What leaps to mind is a quote from my father. Someone had asked him why he loved to hunt so much; what was so great about being in the woods. His reply was, “If I have to explain it, you wouldn’t understand.” This really sums up the feeling many of us have. A recent ad in several hunting magazines shows a fellow festooned in camoflage, with the caption “You can’t explain it. But nothing would keep you from it.”

Our lack of eloquence on this subject is a major factor in the “bunny-huggers’” fight against our rights. The vast majority of our populace is open to suggestion on the topic of hunting, and could take it or leave it. The very fact that the anti-hunting crowd often makes their claims public, with little or no rebuttal from us hunters, will sway many of these neutral folks. It’s really a debate with one vocal participant, and the claims made, while illogical and faulty, are the only thoughts to ever reach many of these non-hunters. I believe it’s time we delved into ourselves and offered our thoughts, however abstract, to the non-hunting public for their consideration.

I started going to the woods with Dad when I was very young. I don’t really remember when I first went, but when I was nine, I got to go on a few hunting trips with him and follow him through the woods. He wisely kept these trips varied, and limited the time we spent on any one thing, as my attention span was fairly short. By the time I was eleven, I got to carry an old heirloom .410 double-barrel shotgun, with the action broken open. If I was to spot some game, then by his permission, I could close the gun and shoot. Soon I was allowed to wander the woods on my own for short times, still following his rule of keeping the gun broken. It was at this time that the hunting seed really began to grow in me. There’s just no way to adequately portray the majesty of a forest and the creatures within, when you feel like the only man who’s ever stood where you stand. It doesn’t matter that you’re walking on a well-worn trail, and that you spy spent shotgun shells alongside it from time to time. You feel all alone, at peace, fully alert, ready for anything.

I never feel closer to God than I do when I walk in the woods, his most wondrous creations all around me, with the challenge of outwitting them on their own terms in front of me.

The hunting instinct is one of the most basic instincts of mankind. After all, we are the ultimate predator. Take a look at “prey” animals. Their eyes are usually on the sides of their heads, affording a wider field of view. They lose some depth perception with this arrangement, but it helps them survive. Predators, on the other hand, characteristically have their eyes set close together, very useful for estimating the distance between he and his target. Beyond this, the urge to kill lies within us all, especially as children. Without proper channelling of these instincts, children often grow into physically abusive and/or murderous adults. Can any of us honestly say that, as kids, we didn’t shoot birds with our slingshots and bb guns, or set homemade traps for other critters? I say that if you can say that, then you either never had an opportunity as a child, or you’re an exception to the rule of human nature.

The kill is the fulfillment of the hunt. We hunt to be alone, to observe wildlife without being observed ourselves, to face one of the greatest challenges in this world: to take a wild animal on his own turf, using our brain and little else. Forget the wild tales you may have heard about “automatic” guns and telescopic sites. When it comes right down to it, those things are no good unless you can create an opportunity to use them. We don’t swagger into the woods and slay Bambi when he meekly peeks from behind a tree. We have to use every sense, every bit of experience we have, and when we accomplish our goal, it’s a milestone. I once watched a videotape on hunting that theorized that, on the average, if you are hunting and get a chance at a deer, that chance will last 7 seconds. In my experience, that’s not far off. Sometimes you’ll have longer, sometimes not that long, but 7 seconds is just about average. Think of what it takes to be alert and ready, and to make an honest, clean shot on an animal that always believes there’s danger behind every tree! In those 7 seconds you must verify that it is, indeed, a legal animal, find a chance to shoot (not easy when you’re in brushy country), and you must usually remain undetected by those roving eyes and swivelling ears. What a high! The adrenalin rush I get from it is like nothing else in this world. The fulfillment of long hard hours of hunting is definitely worth it!

I read a quote from a famous writer once, though I can’t recall his name. The quote went something like this: “We do not go hunting to kill. We kill in order to have gone hunting.” Without the kill, you aren’t hunting. That doesn’t mean that you have to kill every legal animal you see, but hunting is not hunting if you’re not there to kill. But to return to the quote, one does not go hunting expressly for that purpose. Hunting is freedom, a tie to our ancestors, peace, contentment, happiness, joy, sweat, close calls, exploring, hiking, stealth, boring, exhilarating, tiring, satisfying, challenging, and a thousand other things. It’s there for you to discover, and judge for yourself if you want to take part in it. But please, “don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” That’s the only way you’ll ever know for sure.

- Russ Chastain