Somewhere along the line, hunters and fishermen got divided into two distinct groups identified by names that hardly describe their true intents. The terms "subsistence" and "sport" are both misnomers and do nothing but confuse the issues as we debate rights, privileges and priorities in the allocation of Alaska's wild fish and animals.
It wasn't that long ago when the rule about moose hunting was if it had horns, you could shoot it. It was that way pretty much everywhere in Alaska and not just 200 miles off the road -- or wherever it is that "rural" ends and "the Bush" begins. Back then, it did not really matter whether a person was considered a subsistence or sport hunter. If that moose had horns, you could shoot it.
It was the rule in one my family's favorite hunting spots just off the Glenn Highway, about halfway between Palmer and Glennallen. We always came out of there with the meat we needed. Like it was pretty much everywhere in Alaska, the limit for everybody was one bull moose and two caribou. These days, during hunting season there are hundreds if not thousands of people back there, all hoping to catch a glimpse of a four-brow tine, 50-inch or better bull. Maybe one in five will have a caribou tag. In terms of meat, it will be a futile gesture for all but a very few. Still, it's not hard to understand why they're out there. It's hunting.
There is no difference between subsistence and sport that is not purely economic. A lot of us can claim traditional and customary use of both wild fish and animals. When I was a boy I hunted blacktail deer with my grandfather on my great uncle's ranch in California. When my family moved to Alaska, I hunted moose and caribou with my father and brothers. My grandmother came across the Oregon Trail as a small child. Her very survival depended on her father's success as a hunter and fisherman.
The term "subsistence" implies the bare minimum needed to survive. Yet, since the beginning, the people who subsisted on the land did more than just survive. They thrived. Even in Alaska's cold, frozen Arctic, there was generally plenty for those who did the work and gathered what the land and sea offered.
Sport hunting and fishing really aren't sports and should not to be confused with games like basketball and bingo. They are not playing with food. For the most part, sport hunters are really subsistence hunters who can no longer afford to rely on the land to provide the food they need. Hunting is still a part of a sport hunter's culture. Hunting gets them out into the wild places, proves their worth and nurtures their souls. The same as it does for subsistence hunters. What is called sport hunting is a symbolic return to a way of life that has been inevitably disappearing the world over.
The end of subsistence started in what is now modern day Iraq. Sometime around 7,000 to 10,000 years ago somebody over there figured out that with a little extra care, plants would grow better and produce more food. This simple discovery had huge implications and eventually spawned the huge agricultural-industrial complex that has enveloped the world and ended the subsistence lifestyle of every culture its path.
Since that fateful day of discovery so many years ago, abandoning the subsistence tradition has not been a choice. It has been an inevitable change in society and culture, so profound that it is even addressed in the Bible. In Genesis, the very first book of the Old Testament, twin brothers, Jacob and Esau face choosing a life as a farmer or as a hunter. Each takes his own path and eventually Jacob, the brother who chose the life of a hunter, comes back home, repents and takes up agriculture.
The loss of subsistence as a lifestyle has proven to be impossible to escape for every culture encountering this agricultural-industrial complex. Along with a more reliable, more easily available supply of food comes the technology that makes it possible. In Alaska, the introduction of advanced health care means there are thousands more people living in the Bush than ever before. More elders are living longer, more babies are surviving infancy, accidents are less likely to be disabling or deadly. The Alaska Purchase from Russia ushered a second wave of immigrants into the country. Though most didn't venture past the road system, thousands did. And with them came more effective ways to harvest Alaska's wild fish and animals.
Change in the traditional subsistence diet of a hundred years ago has altered the way people fit into Alaska's ecosystem, stressing some animals while relieving the pressure on others. Back before kerosene, bears caught in their dens were relatively easy to kill, and their thick layer of fat provided light during the dark winter as well as food. When kerosene and Crisco replaced animal fats, people stopped taking bears in early winter. There is no way to know for sure, but there may now be more bears feeding on moose calves each spring than ever before.
The subsistence diet is not the only one to change. People all over the Pacific Rim are harvesting more food from the ocean than ever before. Many of the small fish that king salmon prey on during their stay in saltwater are also targeted by global commercial fishing fleets. Every country along the coast of the Pacific Ocean has extensive aquaculture operations. Our salmon are facing greatly increased competition from humans for food in the ocean as well as increased pressure from fishermen.
Today, there are just too many people for Alaska to supply more than just a very few of us with meat and fish. The land animals and fish are not unlimited. Hunting and fishing, no matter whether done under the guise of sport or subsistence is not a right. It's a privilege, not one granted by a government, but by Alaska itself. With that privilege comes the responsibility to do whatever is necessary to keep populations of wild animals healthy. Even if that means we can no longer rely on them for food.
Keith Searles has lived in Alaska for over 40 years, both in rural and Bush Alaska as well as its three largest cities. During that time he has worked in a variety of Alaska industries and was editor of two Alaska weekly newspapers.
The views expressed here are the writer's own and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, e-mail commentary(at)alaskadispatch.com.