In Your Nature
Participant
I had just finished teaching a class near the end of an introductory biology course. We had been exploring the concept of food chains and the fact that only 10%, or less, of the energy available at one trophic level is passed on to the next trophic level. This is why there are WAY more wildebeest on the Serengeti Plain of Africa than there are lions. Roughly 2,000,000 wildebeest and about 3,000 lions. I had pointed out that the vast majority of humans who have ever lived (somewhere over 100 billion; currently there are around 8.2 billion living humans) have been omnivores, that is we eat both primary producers (i.e., plants) and primary, secondary, or tertiary consumers (i.e., animals and fungi). I had very likely confided to my students that I, myself, was an omnivore.
After class a student came to talk to me as I was packing up my teaching gear. They asked how I, as a person who knew a great deal about biodiversity and clearly thought that other animal species were amazing, could be comfortable with killing and eating those animals. It was a good question that I didn’t have time to fully respond to as another class was entering the room. As I recall, I likely said some things about meat being “nutrient dense” and providing for the basic nutritional needs of a human, and that a strictly plant-based diet is insufficient. I probably mentioned that humans evolved as omnivores, based on the evidence provided by our dentition and our digestive tracts, i.e., being omnivores is “natural” for us. I may have pointed out that “predator-prey” relationships are ubiquitous throughout the natural world and humans, as “special” as we may claim to be, are most definitely part of the natural world. I invited the student to set up an appointment with me so that we could talk about their question in greater detail. When we met later that week, I revealed to the student that, not only was I an omnivore, but I was also a hunter. The student found that to be incomprehensibly inconsistent with being a biology professor and asked: “You love biodiversity - why can’t you just enjoy watching birds, why do you have to kill them?” I was glad that the student stopped by. We had a nice discussion, but we both left with our perspectives intact.
That student’s question has reoccurred to me at various times though the intervening years. I highly value biodiversity. I do think that other species of animals are amazing. I love seeing various animal species in their natural habitats, and in some sense I “love” animals, although I’m not fond of mosquitoes or ticks. How can I kill (in my case directly, not just by paying someone else to do so well out of my sight) and eat animals that I love? Why is it that, although I do enjoy bird watching and seeing new (to me) species of birds, I also want to kill and eat some species of birds? Why is it that, although deer are graceful and beautiful to see standing stock still in a forest glade, I also value having venison steaks in my freezer?
Difficult questions to answer to be sure. There is no single “simple answer”. The best one might hope to achieve is a complex, nuanced, and potentially somewhat internally inconsistent answer. Answers like: “We’ve always done it that way”, or “We have a religiously sanctified dominion over the animals” carry little weight from my perspective. Part of my reason for obtaining meat by hunting (and fishing) is that I find the industrial model of livestock production to be disturbing, environmentally damaging, and severely lacking in “love and respect” for the animals involved. But there is another piece of the puzzle that has flitted in and out of my consciousness over the years. The distinction between being “an observer” of the natural world and “a participant” in the natural world.
Although I have been an “observer” of the natural world all my life, and in fact made a career of being an observer, I am also a person who is fully aware of, and embraces, the fact that I am, willingly or not, a “participant” in the natural world. Much of modern life attempts to obscure the inescapable truth that we are “participants” in the natural world. We humans often seek to separate ourselves from the natural world. But all the oxygen we breathe and all the food we eat come from the natural world. We obtain, directly or indirectly, all the resources required for our modern lifestyle from the natural world. Even our “smartphones”. We probably try to ignore our connection to natural world, at least in part, because the natural world can be quite unpleasant, even deadly. All the infectious diseases we’re susceptible to are from the natural world. There are numerous species of venomous snakes in the natural world. It can get very cold out in the natural world and it’s really nice to have a warm house (constructed of resources from the natural world) to be in during a blizzard. It’s also a lot less frightening to watch a nature documentary about black bears than it is to have a close encounter with one in its natural habitat. It’s much more comfortable to play a video game about wilderness camping (I don’t know, but I hope that such video games do not exist) than it is to take a wilderness camping trip. But there is also a huge disparity in the learning, and the connectedness, that occurs during these two experiences.
There are, of course many ways, to be a “willing, conscious, participant” in the natural world. One can grow some of their own food in a backyard garden. One can forage for morels (which are “ascocarps” not “mushrooms”), mushrooms, wild black raspberries, wild edible plants such as young stinging nettles, etc. One can learn how to catch, clean/fillet, and cook various species of fish. And, yes, bird watching is way to connect with the natural world though it’s more observational than participatory. At some level (my garden is rather small), I do all those things. I firmly believe that, as a society, we should be making much greater efforts to expose, and nurture, young people in these types of connections with the natural world. This would cut into time spent on screens and playing youth sports, but it would be well worth it in my opinion. For me, the most compelling way to actively participate in the natural world is by hunting. Hunting provides a deep, raw, and visceral connection to the natural world that I don’t experience with any other activity. I can’t explain why some people are hunters and some people are non-hunters. Maybe it’s “just genetics”, but I’m a hunter.
My love of hunting might derive from the evolutionary history of humans, but it goes beyond that, it goes beyond meat being nutrient dense, it goes beyond disapproval of modern industrial meat production. I want to be directly involved in obtaining the meat I eat, not merely an observer at a grocery store meat counter. Watching birds (or other creatures), while interesting and engaging, is not enough. I want to feel that I am an active part of my ecosystem, not an extraneous, outside, observer. I want to gather the thorough understanding that comes from knowing where, and when, to find certain species, not to merely encounter them casually when doing so “doesn’t really matter”. I want to know how to detect the presence of species I’m hunting by observing the subtle signs they leave behind. I want to learn how to attract certain species, while also knowing how to avoid their mechanisms of detecting predators that have been honed by eons of evolution. I want to know how to handle an animal I’ve killed to convert it into an excellent meal. I want to struggle through ignorance, mistakes, challenging weather, fatigue, and failure to come out the other side with dinner in my hand to share with family and friends. I want to come face-to-face with the realization that my ancient ancestors were much better hunters than I’ll ever be with all the technological advantages I have. I want to share my hunting experiences with a community of like-minded hunters and learn from them as well. I also want to share my hard-earned knowledge with others who are seeking to forge their own deep connection with the natural world through hunting.
Some non-hunters think that hunters only “take” from the natural world. That all we’re interested in is “killing animals”. As with any demographic group, there is a wide range of beliefs and actions amongst hunters, but hunters most certainly “give” as well as take. Hunters, through license fees, excise taxes, donations of money and volunteer time, as well as support of local, national, and international environmental groups, help provide, protect, and manage the habitat suitable for use by hunted animal species and, importantly, for many more species as well. “Love” can be expressed in many ways, but helping to build “homes” in which other species can live the lives that evolution suited them for is a very clear example of love from my perspective. Hunters contribute to protecting populations of hunted species by carefully following game laws, and no hunter I’ve ever interacted with would be comfortable hunting members of an “endangered species”. Non-hunted species, by far a greater number of species, also benefit from hunters because the habitat for hunted species is also suitable for many non-hunted species. Viewed from this perspective, hunters provide habitat and protect populations of non-hunted species much more so than the average citizen. Publicly accessible wildlife habitat is also good for people, whether they are hunters or not. Easy access to the natural world is essential to developing people who care about, and are connected to, the natural world. Hunters help give this gift of natural areas and wildlife to all people, whether they are hunters or not. We give this because we love hunting, we love being active, connected, participants in our ecosystems, and we love the species that we hunt.
If you’ve read this piece, or any other of my pieces, you’re probably asking some version of this question: “How did Jim get to be so weird?”. Now for the low, low price of $15.95 (plus tax and shipping), you can answer that compelling question. Click here. Proceeds (should any ever occur) donated to local environmental groups.
Well written. Your personal experience and consideration is valuable. I’m also a fellow “animal murderer,” according to a student a few years ago, although my account of euthanizing a badly injured, car-struck deer hardly seems to qualify. I’d prefer to fish and hunt my own food, but I’m really leery of toxins in fish and I don’t own any hunting guns. I do have a bow.
As you well know, there is a huge difference between subsistence hunting and responsible hunting, on one hand, and drunken, gleeful butchery on the other. Many hunters are too full of themselves, too taken with their domination of nature, and too full of beer to practice responsibility.
Part of that is the humility that comes from taking a life, which was the point of my story that resulted in the “animal murderer” story. The hesitation, the necessity (for food, not just mercy), the participation, as you put it, in a natural process are all parts of that responsibility.
Richard Lee recorded the practice of “insulting the meat” among the Kalahari San. Hunters diminished the quality of a kill by stating that it was diseased or scrawny, even if it was a healthy, robust animal. The point was to keep an individual hunter from feeling superior to others because of qualities of the animal that the hunter did not control. You may be lucky or skilled to find that 175-point buck, but that’s it. The rest was up to the animal.