Taking conversations about hunting, public lands and the perpetual march of civilization to a broader audience

Whenever I ponder leaving Alaska, a thought that Christine usually proposes, my mind goes into the overdrive excuse-producing phase. Leaving Alaska, for almost any reason, isn’t on my agenda, with some exceptions.

One would be when the folks with the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service requested our presence at the National Conservation Training Center, which is nestled between Harper’s Ferry and Washington, D.C., in Shepherdstown, West Virginia, to give a presentation on our book, “The Land We Share.” National Wildlife Refuges have influenced my life, and it is an honor to be asked to give something back.

But, in my country-boy mind, the route one must take to get there seems daunting, never mind being in a relatively small place with a human population that staggers the mind. Doing the presentation and being close to many historical places we would like to experience is the upside.

Then there’s the middle, the double-edged sword; there is always a double-edged sword. You know, like if I buy this gun, my partner will be mad, but I’ll have the gun, sort of thing.

We’ve been asked to discuss hunting on public lands as a valid public lands policy with an Environmental Policy class at a nearby university. It seems like a wonderful opportunity to converse with students who are likely from a much different culture than we Alaskans experience.

Our environment develops our perception of life, what it means, and how we fit into the grand scheme, if there is one. Engaging from our perspective may be difficult, mainly when speaking with students, and one must get it right.

Some might say there is no need for hunting in the modern world; after all, food comes from the store, not the land, which might be a person’s perception if that is all they know. I must check myself when thoughts other than my own are presented. Thinking about folks who live in cities with millions of people who seem happy is as bizarre to me as our killing a moose, cutting it up, and packing it in for winter food might be to those folks.

It seems there was a time when those extreme opposites coexisted very well. Now, we often feel the imposition of others’ will on our culture when something of value to us is questioned.

Subjugation is a hallmark of Western civilization. Folks who fled the old world to North America sought to escape it. Only to then impose it on the Indigenous people they encountered.

History tells us the Cherokee tribe made a valiant effort to meld into the “civilization” the Western Europeans demanded. But that wasn’t good enough, and they were driven from their homeland on the Trail of Tears, one of history’s most horrific impositions of will on others.

Indigenous people west of the Mississippi signed treaties with the U.S. government that allowed them to remain on historical lands they had made their living on. Those treaties were broken in favor of extracting gold and silver, and those who lived there fought back. But, ultimately, they were forced onto reservations where the government promised to supply them with food to replace their hunting heritage.

We see the results. Those Indigenous people were broken; their spirit, the very thing that made them whole, their place living with nature, was taken away.

A quote attributed to Lakota Chief Sitting Bull may say it best.

“I will remain what I am until I die, a hunter, and when there are no buffalo or other game I will send my children to hunt and live on the prairie, for where an Indian is shut up in one place the body becomes weak.”

One could say that every person inhabiting the planet can trace their existence to hunting. That doesn’t mean everyone is a hunter. Bloodlines don’t always pass traits to every descendant. Over thousands of years, most cultures had people who hunted and many more who did not, as it is today. The Industrial Revolution and advanced methods of agriculture have allowed a profound detachment from where our food comes from, where, for those who maintain a relationship, and a connection to land, our most meaningful memories are made.

The threat to nature posed by advancing civilization prompted the conservation of lands to ensure there would always be wild places for the public to regenerate the relationship between humans and nature.

The move for conservation began with hunters who could envision a landscape devoid of flora and fauna in favor of commerce and development and who could not let that happen. Some might say their actions were selfish. Maybe so, but the result is the United States remains among the few nations with wild lands available for the public to access and experience the freedom of roaming the land and fending for oneself, perhaps the last vestige of freedom left in a “free” country.

[Alaska bears should be viewed with respect, not a fear that bolsters false narratives]

Alaska may be the last true example of this on the planet. Alaskans can wander the country to take game and fish, pick berries and mushrooms, and gather wood, filling their stomachs, heating their homes, and invigorating the spirit of self-determination that otherwise may lay dormant into extinction.

Throughout human history, people have developed cultures and learned to live with the land. Despite the hardships that come with that, they have been happy. Then, someone would come along and covet what they had, or maybe they didn’t like what they did. With visions of wealth and power, men in suits learned how to subjugate these cultures, drive them out, or assimilate them to the “proper” way of living. Failing that, the men in suits called upon the country’s military forces to go forth and kill them.

The thought that folks may want to do that to hunting, the original survival mechanism of the human condition since the species appeared, is unconscionable. For me, taking away hunting on public land would end the thing that gives me life. Most of us are not wealthy. The luxury of hunting private land is reserved for the wealthy, in direct conflict with the North American Conservation model developed so many years ago to ensure everyone can pursue the ancient traditions, secure healthy sustenance, and experience the deepest relationships one can have with the land.

It brings nightmares of history, of forcing people onto reservations, taking away relationships with nature that are irreplaceable. Where one’s spirit is stolen, and life becomes no more than fueling a body to no purpose.

It’ll be a good conversation.