Foul Weather Hunters

A couple of minor events this past week have provided fodder for my blog today.  First, I was watching a hunting video by the Huntin’ Fool Magazine people, and at the conclusion of a stone sheep hunt in the Northwest Territories, the hunter declared he was cold, wet, and miserable, but just experienced the time of his life. The other instance happened on Saturday when my wife and I went out to see my folks upon their return from whitetail hunting up north. Listening to their stories of enduring winds, heavy snow, and bitter cold, I found it amusing that they had obviously had an outstanding experience, but what must someone unfamiliar with our passion think about these experiences?  My wife introduced me to a saying when we were newly married and had trekked 6 miles across country in the Seven Devils: “it’s fun when you’re done.” Her point being that it was difficult for her to enjoy the experience until the experience became a memory, at which point she could look back at it with fondness. Or something close to fondness. At least something other than misery.

I’m not sure if this is always the case, but there could very well be some missing connection in a sportsman’s brain. There isn’t any other demographic I can think of that can look forward to rising at 4:30 A.M. to go sit in a ground blind with snow and wind swirling around while waiting for the possibility that a duck might fly within shotgun range. To the indoor hobbyist, this sounds like insanity, but year after year, countless outdoor enthusiasts do exactly that, and what’s more is they’ll come back and tell their friends about their exhilarating morning.

One of my families’ favorite hunts has become a late season archery hunt that, in four years, has produced just one doe.  The weather on that hunt is always cold – bitter cold.  One year, the temperature never rose above 17 degrees. It’s steep country, and the snow can be daunting at times.  But every year, we look forward to that hunt like no other hunt.  I can’t for sure say why, but there are always fond memories of that place.

When I think back on some of the more challenging hunts I’ve been on, I realize there must be something about the challenge that speaks to the inner Neanderthal – and I like it.  I remember a few instances when during the hunt I wanted nothing more than to be finished. Yet, when I think back on the hunt, I remember what a thrill it had been, and I start planning to make that hunt happen again.

So, I can’t say I was overly surprised when I asked my mom and dad if they would do that hunt up north again and they quickly responded with a “yes.” It isn’t the weather or the terrain that makes or breaks a hunt, and it isn’t the amount of game seen or killed. I don’t quite have it pin pointed just what it is that makes a hunt, but I know if I have an opportunity to go on a hunt, I’m not letting a few inconveniences ruin my experience.