Ryan
Hunters with white palms in a Kodachrome forest
Anthropomorphism
Recently I posted pictures of a hunt
on Face Book with very mixed reviews. Seems okay to show a hunter in camouflage
blending into speckled and dappled woods, but quite another to point up prey as
they lay on the forest floor. Looking at a downed deer with a bullet-hole sets
some on edge, and gazing at me skinning it sends others into emotional turmoil.
There seems some very misplaced
modern sensibilities going on in the minds of some men and women today, that cannot
fully grasp the gravity of our forgotten American heritage, so important just a
generation ago. It also indicates why there are certain American men and women
who will never give up their guns. It is not just the Constitution, but
something ingrained into the very fabric of what we are as men. It is
considered a viable part of Liberty, and a God- given right that cannot be
denied. So profound is this need, many men would die to keep it...
No disrespect, but there were some who
called hunting "a barbaric practice," and others referring to my particular
kill as "Bambi." Surely, they had to be joking. Could it be that we
have among us people who identify with a childhood cartoon personality, with
human characteristics? Have we "advanced" to the point were animals
are considered higher, or equal to men on the food chain? I'm sure some
vegetarian pacifist celibates have come to that conclusion, and a frightful notion
for a traditionalist. Some of these folks, of the same cut and jib, are
advocating that our American Constitution is a "fluid" document, and
needs to change as attitudes change, and this seems most dangerous... Tradition
comes from the school of hard knocks, hard won, and many times a survival
technique. Change for the sake of change? How did the last eight years fair? Remember,
once lost, it is very difficult to get it back...
Anthropomorphism is the word that describes the assumption that human
emotions and intellect are in animals, and Hollywood has thoroughly tapped into
that sentiment. Though we should have empathy and respect animals, we should
not saddle them with our own human characteristics. What primarily separates us
from them is our unique frontal lobe's higher consciousness, something they
emphatically do not possess. Emotions and survival instinct should not be
confused with intellect, and that brings us to another definition, finely embedded
into our physic... personification. This is the related attribution of human
form and characteristics, using abstract concepts such as nations, emotions and natural forces like seasons and the weather, to give
credence of our reality. We should teach this to our children, while they are
watching cartoons, or playing violent video games that revel in killing, for
the sake of killing...
To
be honest, this trait is found in each and every one of us at one time or
another, as we try to define, and ascribe meaning to the world around us. We have,
however, been taught a lot of things we have
come to question as adults, and some are seen to be little more than lies and fallacies.
Just
recently my two oldest grandchildren found that there was no Easter Bunny, Santa,
or tooth fairy. After the initial shock, one even questioned the existence of
God, and that is a normal response. We have a great gift called the intellect,
and that ability gives us a reasoning mind, consciousness. And so, we need to
take pause and question just what
reality we have been taught as truth, before being so judgmental. Before we
take a stance for gun control; before we change a tradition; before we legislate
away what just a few years back was a survival technique, we should take a long
look and consider just what might be lost...
"Both
have ancient
roots as storytelling and artistic devices, and most cultures
have traditional
fables with anthropomorphized animals as characters. People have also
routinely attributed human emotions and behavioral traits to wild as well as
domestic animals."
Ken
From camera to rifle... and back again
Animals are indeed complex. The
elephant, dog, whale, and dolphin for instance, and all endangered species... should
not be hunted. Some predators should also be in question too, and given quarter
in the wild, like the bear, large cats, and most all monkeys, unless it is
necessary in a well-managed game reserve, or, of course, if you are threatened.
This may at first glance seem insensitive, but we need to consider and
understand our modern circumstances, in relation to our historical past.
I am relatively new at hunting.
Before my son-in-law introduced me to the sport about fifteen years ago... my
hunting was done entirely with a Minolta camera. For the majority of my
woodland experiences, trophies were defined to photos of early evening and
mornings of burnt orange and deep blue through the trees. I used a Macro for
mushrooms, a zoom lens for a bird, normal lenses for a football game, and a wide
angle for family gatherings. I found modern hunting just as specialized, just
as complicated in its study and learning. A consideration for depth of field in
necessary for an artful photographic capture, and knowing and practicing with
your gun and its many various accessories, insures a well orchestrated hunt.
At about the same instant I learned
my rifle, I also held a Digital camera for the first time, and there is no
turning back for either. Now my Nikon and Browning 7 MAG are inseparable, a symbiotic relationship that gives me great
fulfillment, and yet, for dissimilar reasons.
Something happened to me the first
time I picked up a camera in the wild. I was hiking with Navy buddies on a
little island off the Philippine coast called Grande, back in 1969. On a West
Pacific tour aboard the USS Kitty Hawk, some opted for a few days of R and R
away from the smoke-filled Olongapoo bars of Subic Bay. Sad to say, but very
few chose the good clean fun of scuba and hiking. With wild jungles galore, and
voted the third best scuba destination in the world, those days made grand
memories for those with an adventure spirit.
My friend Gary carried a Pentex
camera. He let me handle it with a new macro lens, and I turned it upon a
praying mantis sitting on a leaf. It was amazing to see his entire head come
into focus, and fill the frame. "Snap!" And as I took my first Kodachrome slide, I was hooked, and have been now for almost fifty
years.
Something similar happened when I
shot my first buck. I knew it was the one I had been waiting for, an elusive
ten-point my son-in-law had photographed with a night camera the previous
season.
Though it was a heart/lung shot, it
thundered headlong into the piney Louisiana thicket, disappearing into the
evening shadows. I remember what went through my head before I took that shot
to this very day. I wanted it clean, not only for the Buck, but I knew that
what I did, the quality of my next move, would be remembered by all.
I also remember the apprehension of
having to wait the prescribed half hour before tracking it. You learn a lot
about yourself as a hunter, and some of what you have inside are rather embarrassing to admit. You see, I just
couldn't wait. I texted my son-in-law the news, and though he reminded me that
going after the deer might make him run further, I could not stop myself from
immediately going. In two minutes, I was
at the site searching for signs, and with a sigh of relief saw a lot of blood.
The bullet had gone clean through, and I hoped by the amount that my aim was
true. I started taking pictures too...
Deer have an adrenaline rush so
powerful they can run a hundred yard dash with a damaged heart, and no oxygen. I
know this sounds untrue, but I have seen this many times. Adrenalin overrides
pain just as shock does. A seasoned hunter might laugh at such simplistic
reminisces, but like that first picture, or a first kiss, it takes something
rather powerful to impress an older guy like me.
I was told emphatically that wounded
deer are dangerous, and have attacked and even killed an unwary hunter
following a blood trail. They can come quickly, virtually invisible in dense
thicket, and use their hoofs as formidable weapons. And with this in the back
or my mind, and my rifle off-safety, I cautiously tracked the blood trail...
In the quiet of evening, alone in my
thoughts, with the woods colored and cool from fall, something deep and
commanding took hold. I cannot truly describe it. It was something that welled
up, a well-being perhaps, something I see in Gunner, my bird dog, who is bread
to point, to track, and retrieve... and without a doubt, men have that inside
too. I'm sure not all men, but hunter gatherers, who became farmers, is in my
DNA, just like Gunner's hunting ability.
Blood, from a minuscule dot on a
single blade of grass I searched on hands and knees. There, my heart leaped as
I saw deep red splashes on the trunk of a tree; it rekindled in me something
ancient, seemingly primal, and surely long suppressed, innate. It brought out a
primeval mode of thought some men are breed to be, and at the very core of what
it means to be a surviving human being. There are some people who consciously attempt
to suppress this, for a variety of well meaning reasons, but not very long ago
their ancestors waited patiently for their hunters to return carrying a week's supply
of protein on their backs.
It was a good feeling to see that my
shot was textbook, and as I stood in the dry autumn grass appraising him, my
heart thudded in my chest. I felt alive, and connected to this world in a way I
had never felt before. Surely, that feeling is no litmus test for masculinity; it
takes all kinds to make our society...
but there is, in my book of life, a test of what it means to be a man, and that
is wrapped up in a concept called responsibility. Many young men and women
today have not been taught that...
My responsible ancestors...
For hundreds of thousands of years,
possibly a million, men and women have hunted for survival. Groups of men left
their families and sought game in cooperative packs, along with their partner,
the dog. When they returned home it was a celebration... not only for their
safe return, but the sustenance that insured survival for his family and tribe.
Early American Colonial hunters, who
were my ancestors, formed their hunting ability from native Indians and learned
respect for both prey and themselves, bordering on reverence. Some even prayed
over the downed animal, thanking both it and God for its life, and most hunters
I know do this today.
The tools
have changed, but what we have inside still burns true for the hunt. It was
forged, hardwired in our psyche by the realization that skills and expertise,
our collective cooperation, our impetus, brought life to those who depended on
us. Hunting was borne of responsibility, the romantic in me thinks... where
love is forged. Those who can not grasp his concept, are societies' victims.
Those adventurous exploits, both
success and failure, were told around the home-fire so long ago that a good
part of that communication were simple hand gestures. No matter what race we
are today, the inside of our hands are a reflective white. The palm of every
human can be seen brightly in starlight, moon, and the flickering flash of
firelight. Our hands were accents marks for the joyful and sometimes
heartbreaking stories they told. It was a tradition that endured for 99 percent
of our existence on earth, and should not be so easily discarded. The backstrap
is the most tender and tasty part of the deer, and every culture around the
world gave the hunter that as thanks. And yet, as we can witness today... that
meat is given by the men to the women and children, a true display of Love.
Men recorded thier exploits deep in caves to outlast his fragile life, with artful renderings of
multicolored powdered minerals, and those same needs and expressions are at the
heart of the modern hunter today. This is why I take pictures.
Ken
The modern hunter
Putting a mount above his fire-place
records the best of his experiences. It represents the efficiency in his choice
of weapons, the patience and persistence it took to achieve his goal, the
solidarity and patience of long hours, the company he kept, the dreams and
memories he alone have made, but also something far more profound and obscure.
It indicates a degree of modern men, with a measure of our ancestors, and this
revelation cannot be denied.
The modern hunter sits in a painted
aluminum tree-stand dressed in state of the art camouflage from head to foot,
accented by an invisible orange safety vest over thermal underwear, washed and
prepared not to smell.
Several chemical heat packs are in his
pockets and boots... Night-vision binoculars... a high-powered lightweight
composite rifle with full-metal-jacket ammunition... a directional, battery-powered
LED flash-light... a telephone/computer on vibrate... clean water in a plastic
bottle... a realistic animal-call... a satellite GPS to find his way home...
multi-varieties of pheromone sent-spray that doubles as a insect repellent...
pin-point range finders for accurate distance... are standard, and reasonably
priced. He can record his experience with an HD 26.0 maga-pixel Sony HANDICAM
1080, mounted next to his scope that can see as well as a hawk.
While in his blind, he can check stocks... text his friends in a nearby
stand... research the name of any bird he sees... be warned in a change of weather...
play a game... and a myriad of other
mind-occupying functions the modern mind demands. He can wear a hearing
protector that can rival even that of his dog, who he still watches for
directions... still sitting at his feet.
His trophy-mount will be done by a
professional, amazingly life-like, or a simple Euro-mount as requested by his
wife.
His kill is not processed by tribal
women any more, but packaged for his freezer from steaks to smoked-sausage,
hermetically sealed by a hunter's slaughter-house to last years. An
obsidian-glass, or flint knife is no longer required to peal leather, as his
clothes are mostly synthetic, instilled with odorless multi-colored dyes in
computer generated patterns that camouflage for every season.
No longer is he required to
freeze-dry strips of meat on racks of saplings for weeks for winter storage,
and tanning using the animal's brain is a method no longer feasible but for the
most primitive societies. Precious salt is in abundance now, with hardly a
thought of its rarity and extreme health benefits, lacking just two generations
ago... and fresh water can be kept cool in a double walled thermos. Today he
has infusion drinks, vitamin and salt
enriched, tasty fruit and nut bars wrapped in a healthy synthetic plastic made
from oil. If he feels sick or weak, he can pull out an energy drink, and take
an aspirin...
It is said that primitive hunters
were more at one with nature, and that their secret activities are mostly lost.
This may very well be true, but the reality of a modern hunter is his virtual control
of nature, something our ancestors could not effectively do. In other words, modern
hunters try not only to acclimate with nature, but to control it as well. Our ancestors
would be proud of our accomplishments, and quickly utilize every tool
available. That is the way of men.
On the wall next to my fire place is
my ten-point Euro-mount, and I show the experience to my family on a HD
flat-screen 3-D TV . On my gas pit I am smoking a roast from my latest hunt,
and will invite all of my hunting buddies to retell and embellish our stories,
just as former hunters did so many years ago. Even with our far-advanced verbal
skills, hand gestures are still used to accent.
Oh, the irony...
It is indeed ironic, but hunters do
more than anyone, including Government mandate or agency to safeguard ecology.
It is in their best interest to save and restore wetlands, forests, and natural
habitats, and all can benefit from his savvy knowledge. On private and public
lands alike, hunters are in partnership with research ecologists and government
agencies who use variable sciences to maintain a balanced nature and an
uncontaminated wildlife habitat for the enjoyment of every kind of outdoors-man,
from bird-watcher to mountain climber. And yet, each year, for a wide variety
of reasons, hunters grow less and less. We are indeed an endangered species, as
humanity forgets his heritage.
Author's note: The vision of Whit
Gibons, of the University of Florida, is of note. He wrote years ago about the
needed involvement of hunters in maintaining our forests. He wrote: "Why
is hunting good for the environment?" I found it a good source of
information of that time, because times are rapidly changing, and recognized
that he had an overt premonition of what is happening today.
Gunner
He stated:
"Of course, what makes a
"good" forest for a hunter may be different from what other groups
consider a "good" environment, and compromises must be made to
accommodate all of them. Nonetheless, the time has come when hunters must become
involved in partnerships with other groups who have an equally fervent interest
in maintaining healthy habitats of forests, streams, and small wetlands. The
time has also come when these other groups must look to the hunting community
for what they can contribute to environmental prosperity." -Whit Gibons
From my diary, 2008
From my diary, 2008
"As the sun moves glinting through the trees, the day
slowly slants by shadows that lengthen in deep purple and pink tones. Through
the dazzle of autumn leaves I see all manner of small animals going about their
business... the rabbit on the field... the squirrel chattering above my head...
clouds of black birds flying in unison
on a perfect blue sky... the music of the wind in the pines... and the smells,
sight and sounds of life fills me...
As the night falls all too soon, from blue to gold and
burnt orange, the songs of birds give way to locusts, and then crickets... and as
on cue, an acorn falls to awakens us from these hypnotic suggestions... the
night settles in around us moist and cool on our shoulders....
We are reluctantly nudged to climb down from our precarious
tree-perch... the way we do most nights at the end of a day of hunting, empty-handed,
but filled with awe."
-Diary of Ken LaRive 2008
Peek-a-boo!
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