I’ve noticed in my wonderful world of guns and hunting that we don’t have too many drug and alcohol addled freak boys and girls. Sure, there are one or two helix misers in our humongous community, but we pale in comparison to Hollywood’s glut of Darwinian throwbacks. It seems as if the bang of the gun, the flight of the arrow and the thrill of the hunt are effective in keeping one’s feet tethered to the planet.
I believe that just as you emasculate a man when you remove him from the wild, you slay a woman when she doesn’t get a regular dose of the primal scream of nature—in particular, the hunt. Girls, hunting is an escape and a sensual exchange that getting new hip implants, maxing out a Master Card, and having a porn video made of you and your boyfriend’s ham fisted love making attempts could never out do.
Hey, nutty college chick, you wannabe a “Girl Gone Wild?” Well, good. Women, like men, are born to be wild. Having an undomesticated feral facet to your life is right, and I believe that when you girls do not get a regular release of this rebel yell/huntress/outdoor otherness, you’re going to seek out some artificial, and oft times damaging, sensory satisfaction.
If you like thrills and chills, I’m talkin’ wacky, hair standing up on end, slap your momma, OMG stuff that blows away anything chemicals or herbs can provide, try this:
1. Hunt a grizzly bear with a recurve bow.
2. Go to Africa and stare down a cape buffalo, an elephant or a rogue bull hippo (out of the water) armed only with an old British double rifle.
3. Bound through an alligator and water moccasin infested swamp chasing a perturbed wild boar.
4. Run over the desert mountains of Arizona following dogs that are hot on the trail of a mountain lion.
5. Try, just try, to sneak up on a mature whitetail buck or a giant kudu bull. I bet you can’t get within 1oo yards before he shows you his backside and then leaves you in the dust.
6. Fight with a 500-lb bull shark, a 150-lb tarpon, a 7-ft sailfish or a 40lb. mahi-mahi.
The above is true also for the young women who don’t strip, do sex tapes, aren’t drug dependant or dating back up dancers for boy bands. You, too, can be imbalanced and a candidate for a meltdown (though probably less sensational than a Brit’s) if you don’t get out of your regular world of bland and get dirty in the hunt.
It seems like more and more women are catching on to the buzz that is hunting. Thanks to Safari Club International and their Sables sub-division, the Becoming an Outdoors-Woman organization, the beautiful huntress Cindy Garrison and her TV show, the equally gorgeous Shemane Nugent’s example and Fiona Capstick’s amazing book, The Diana Files: The Huntress – Traveler Through History, the ladies are leaving that which is plastic and entering into that which truly satisfies, i.e., the hunt. I almost forgot to mention this, but major labels are coming out with safari clothes for girls so that you can look hot in the field. PTL!
Many women are following their men into the countryside. They, too, want to see sunsets and sunrises, breathe fresh air, see stars, get scared, enjoy a campfire, pursue game, feel the rush, eat the flesh, chew leather and truly get wild—but without the nonsense.
“. . . we need to conserve that bitter impulse that we have inherited from primitive man. It alone permits us the greatest luxury of all, the ability to enjoy a vacation from the human condition through an authentic, ‘immersion in Nature’ . . . and this, in turn, can be achieved only by placing himself in relation to another animal. But there is no animal, pure animal, other than a wild one, and the relationship with him is the hunt.” - Jose Ortega y Gasset.