Monday, October 15, 2018

I May Be A Hunter

This past summer I went on a buffalo hunt on the Oglala Reservation in South Dakota. I've never been on a hunt before, though I did learn how to hunt humans in the USMC. A lot of the same rules apply. Stealth. Target Identification. One Shot, One Kill principle.

While I didn't do the shooting, My son and I did assist a little with the post kill activities... skinning, quartering, butchering... and it sparked something in me.

Now, to be honest, I've never been drawn to hunting because most of my role models for this have been people that hang heads on their walls or take pictures of themselves with dead giraffes, lions, wild hogs, even buffalo. 

What bothers me are the trophy hunters. I have never felt that the act of killing should be celebrated or enshrined with pictures of people smiling happily with their kill. Posing in front of the rows of ducks they shot, or holding the head of some dead animal up while they grin for the camera. I get that they are proud of their "accomplishment", but most trophy hunters I've spoken with have zero respect for the animal they have killed. It's a sport for them. A chance to prove whatever they need to prove to whomever they think they need to impress. It doesn't impress me. Hunting something that can shoot back at you takes far more skill, nerve, and dedication than shooting an unaware animal that is having lunch and just trying to go about their day.

I understand that people hunt to eat, and that never bothered me much. One of my earliest babysitters was a family that ate all manner of wild game, and though I can't remember the taste of the various things we tried, I do remember the basement with skins and processing equipment and such. I understand that hunting certain species is important in keeping their numbers in check. We are a part of  the food web, after all. The whole Circle of Life. I get all of that. But I've never felt the need to hunt for food outside of my local grocery store.

Then I went on the Buffalo Hunt. 

Now. It wasn't particularly difficult. We drove around until we found the herd, adjusted position (in vehicles) a few times to get a close, clear, clean shot. The guy who took the shot did so wearing flip flops. The herd didn't even react to the shot. Just kinda looked at us and went back to their grazing. A few of them gathered around their fallen brother to check him out. My Lakota Ciye (older brother) Will said that after the animal dies his family will gather around and bw their heads as if in prayer and saying goodbye. Unfortunately our non-traditional guides raced in with their vehicles to move the living buffalo off, an act that bugged both Will, me and my son. The anti-trophy hunter in me would have been disgusted if that had been what we were there for. 

But it wasn't.

This hunt was to use the buffalo as food. The traditional hunters prayed to Tunkasila - Grandfather - before the hunt that one of their brother buffalo's would give himself as a sacrifice so that the people could eat. After the shot, we gathered around the fallen buffalo and prayers were said and sung, and offerings made to the spirit of the animal and to Tunkasila. Prayers of thanksgiving for the sacrifice of this bull. We thanked the animal personally. 

I placed my hand on his massive forehead and said my own words of thanks. As did my son. And the lesson he learned that day was vitally important. I was with people who truly respected the animal, and more importantly respected the gravity of killing. There were no smiles or laughter from the traditional Lakotas there. Or from their two white visitors. Just respect.

In accordance with Lakota tradition, we all ate a piece of the liver to honor the spirit of the buffalo, make him a part of us. We were told that by taking part in ceremony, that we were also brothers of the buffalo. That the spirit of this individual buffalo would be with us for all of our lives. It was a powerful morning that will stay with me for life.

As I reflected on my experience in the weeks that followed, I gave thought to what should be in the hearts of all hunters.

The act of taking a life should never be internally easy, or done with pleasure. It should be done with as much skill as possible so the animal suffers as little as possible. It should not be celebrated with pictures of the dead or trophy heads to hang on a wall. The first thing a hunter should do after a kill is show some respect for the animal that they killed. The animal should be humbly thanked for their sacrifice so that the hunter and his family can live. If you're not going to eat it, you shouldn't be killing it. Maybe most importantly, if you hunt for an animal, you should also take care of its relatives as you would your own as a thank you for their sacrifice as well.

Set out some food for them during winters and hard times. Not as bait. As a thank you. Take care of their living space as if it were your own. If they don't have a good place to live, you won't have a place to hunt. That means standing up to those that would spoil those living spaces. Companies that dump toxins into the ground, water, and/or air. Governments that won't protect these Natural Resources. Individuals that hunt for the sole purpose of taking home a trophy or a picture to show off to their friends. These must be stopped.

I may become a hunter in the future. Probably not regularly, but to expand my knowledge and to provide food for my family. Certainly not for any picture or trophy for my wall. Because even this far along in my life, I was able to learn what it means to be a true hunter.

Respect. Honor. Humility. Purpose. These make the difference between a hunter and a killer.


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