Live, Breathe, Hunt
The process of the hunt is what draws us. From start to finish the work involved is what makes the end
result that much sweeter. When you hunt for real, there are many more failures than successes, many more
blown opportunities than perfectly executed encounters. That's simply the way it is when the choice is made
to pursue wild, pressured critters on their own turf. In the end, it's not about killing giant animals to
show off to the rest of the world. It's about sneaking into a natural world and witnessing the mystery of
all aspects of the hunt.
To work hard for our chances to fill a tag, set the hook or feel a little heft in our game bag is the
investment we make for a potential outcome. We, as sportsmen, can only hope that our endeavors will end up
with fresh backstraps, but beyond the immediacy of a kill lies the memories of the hunt.
The score of an animal is a great way to convey the size to whomever might be listening, but rarely is one
thinking in eighth-inch increments when they trip the release or squeeze the trigger. We hunt because we
have to. Because we need to. It's the process that we relish. Everything rarely falls in place to complete
a full picture but we are just as happy chasing individual pieces until one day we look and recognize it
for what it is; a passion. A passion that draws us from our beds at ridiculous hours,
costs us more money than we'd ever admit to spending, and wears us thin long before the season ends.
The gravity of the outdoors is too strong for us to resist. The pull brings us to our favorite places in
the world as we shed a little weight from our shoulders and begin to truly think clearly while the natural
world moves on around us. Until the elk's bugle breaks the still air, or a shuffle in the leaf litter snaps
us to attention, or the rooster flushes. Then our purpose changes from solemn reflection to the primal core
of our being and we become what we've been looking for all along. Hunters.
