Everything slows down. I’m forced to chill out. I’m not going mach2 with my hair on fire. I’m forced to shut up and quit screaming. I’m forced to breathe, and the air I inhale in the woods is clean and not some germ laden, stale, fart loaded, re-circulated office oxygen (I office out of my home).
My senses come alive and are taken to a higher level by pursuing my prey. My eyes, ears, nose, feet and hands kick into gear like they don’t when I’m sitting like a drooling, giggling, Corona drinking zombie watching Seinfeld on my couch.
It makes me get disciplined. To be a successful hunter requires strictness. To shoot a rifle, shotgun, pistol or bow well takes commitment. To successfully stalk a big game animal and make a clean and lethal shot takes additional dedication. To hunt dangerous game animals requires that I be a seriously focused little monkey. To sit quietly for hours takes Tibetan monk like tenacity. To chase wild boar through a swamp, cougars over miles of desert mountains, and elk where the air is thin means I’ve gotta work out during the week, or I’m going to be more lost than K-Fed watching Bret Hume. The above de rigueur explains why I don’t see too many crack heads on the hunting fields. My sport demands you have your act together.
Hunting changes lives. I’ve seen it several times. I have seen bored adults and kids come alive when the hunt commences. I’ve watched idiots on drugs lay them down for good because they got a greater buzz hunting with good people than they did snorting crank with their butt munch friends in Hialeah. BTW, for the too cool teen or twenty-something who might not think hunting can be as thrilling as drugs, come with me and confront a 350lb PO’ed wild boar, or come to the glades and hunt gators out of an air boat, or take a shot at a grizzly with a bow, or face up to a hippo out of the water with a double rifle. I guarantee ecstasy, ‘shrooms, and a crystal has never, can never and will never give you the buzz that these situations will. You’ll mess your pants. Give it a try, girlfriend. You’ll be sweating like Ahmadinejad in church.
I connect with friends and family on a deeper level. Life’s busy in the city. Sometimes, even the “good” relationships we have with friends and family are about as shallow as a creek in Death Valley. The campfire allows for communication that you do not get when the idiot box is on and everyone is running in fifty different directions. If it weren’t for my dad taking me hunting every year when I was a kid, I probably wouldn’t really even know him (which might be a plus for him, but would be a huge minus for me). I feed hundreds of poor people with high protein, low fat, yummy flesh that comes from my kills. I guarantee that I and just three of my hunting compadres feed way more hungry people via hunting than your typical group of 1000 bleeding heart, yarbling, anti-hunters ever have or will.
There are very few loony liberals. Another great blessing regarding hunting is that I seldom, if ever, run into secular, “progressive,” pluralistic, relativistic, big government loving, anti-military, God and country hating leftists.
Yes, when I’m looking for a break I bound into the swamp, brush or woods with gun or bow in tow in pursuit one of our planet’s amazing game animals. Nothing, absolutely nothing, restores my soul like everything that surrounds the sport of hunting with friends and family. As a matter of fact, my 79-yr. old dad, three of my closest buddies and I are gearing up for a great Maine black bear hunt next week.
Hunters, get away this fall and winter. Don’t let this season not see you and yours in the woods. Also, join the NRA, Safari Club International and Ted Nugent’s United Sportsman of America. Kick your cash into these organizations that keep PETA and other paltry, paranormal, anti-hunting organizations at bay and help us keep alive our great American heritage of hunting.
* Logon to ClashRadio.com and check out Giles’ interview with Patrick Coyle, director of campus programs for Young America’s Foundation (www.yaf.org), and author of the book, The 2006-2007 Campus Conservative Battleplan.
Showdown in Jackson Hole: The Fed Challenged on its Own Turf in Wyoming by Group Likely to Finally Start Dismantling it | Rachel Alexander