For The Love Of Our Game

For the Love of Our Game

Have you ever loved something so much that it altered your life? My fiancé was asking me questions recently to get to know me better. The subject turned to my hunting heritage and my deep fascination with elk. She asked me “if you love something so much, why would you want to kill it?” The question remains unanswered for me. She has a point, a point that I cannot find words to dispute. I attempted to answer her but couldn’t form the words. I am an elkoholic and I plan my year around the fall elk hunting season. September and October are my Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year and Super Bowl all rolled into one. How could I admire something so much on one hand and on the other want to kill and eat it? Is there something wrong with me? Is there something fatalistic about my nature? I had grown up hunting deer with my father back in Indiana. Then he introduced me to elk in 1980. I was hooked the first time I heard that mysterious bugle echo from deep in the woods along a tall Colorado ridge. I’m not an anti-hunter. I’ve always hunted. So why do I find myself questioning this tradition now?

The question deserves an answer. I tell myself I can’t hunt again until I answer the question. I understand wildlife management and the balance hunters provide to maintain a healthy elk herd. I understand that winter range is disappearing at an alarming rate. I understand elk have very poor quality food to eat all winter and arrive in the spring weak and near starvation. Some elk don’t make it. Cows give birth to a new generation in the spring. Some of those new calves won’t make it either. It seems the elk have an uphill battle starting from the day they enter this world. So how can I justify my time in the woods during the fall looking for and elk to kill? It seems I am only pushing the elk herd to more difficulty than they would not normally encounter if it weren’t for hunting season.

I look at some of the magnificent elk taken over the years. They are amazing animals with sometimes massive antlers. I enjoy everything about elk. The way they strut, the way they look and how those antlers grow. I hardly blink as elk come into view. And a distant bugle gets me every time I hear one. Elk are such majestic animals. I search for a better word that can encapsulate them but I can’t find one. Everything about them is cool. I watch the videos, I read Bugle magazine articles, I chat on elk hunting forums and I even provide information of where to find elk in Colorado to my fellow hunters. Then the question jumps from the back of my mind to the front. If I love something so much, why would I want to kill it? It’s a vicious cycle and I’d like to get off this rollercoaster.

My brother doesn’t hunt so we film elk every year. And because he doesn’t hunt, he has the uncanny ability to get closer to elk than I do. It’s as if he doesn’t put out the predator scent. Every year we venture out to new places in elk country. I call for him and he films. We have a lot of fun and always come home dead tired but fully satisfied having spent some quality time as part of the elk herd. That only reinforces the question in the back of my mind. I could just film the rest of my life and still achieve my quest to get close to elk during the rut. Isn’t that enough?

I think one thing that appeals to hunters and elk enthusiasts is the desire to be able to touch an elk. To be up close, to run your fingers through their hair, to touch those massive antlers for yourself. To smell the bittersweet stink of a bull. It’s a curiosity that drives me, in part, to be closer to elk. I’ve even heard of exhausted an hunter lying up against the mighty beast after having filled his tag. Drained of all his energy in the excitement of the hunt he lies next to his elk and takes a nap. Somewhere deep inside our minds we have to be close to elk. We have to touch them to convince ourselves they are real and not ghosts of the forest. To admire every feature from hoof to antler. To hold those enormous antlers upright. To recreate the last moments of the hunt with taxidermist’s skill. When we see a massive elk mount for the first time what do we do? We want to touch it. Often we are warned not to. Forever kept away from satisfying our instincts. To feel elk hair slide along finger tips, to feel the bumps along the base of dark brown antlers. It’s this fascination of being close to something so amazing who doesn’t want to share themselves willingly with us.

Elk are amazing animals. Every photograph and every artists rendering inspires and captures my eye. This animal takes me to places I would never go if it weren’t for a chance to see them. Elk take time away from my work and my family. I have to hear that bugle. I need to see them strut. The adventure of the experience is too intriguing for me to ignore. The power elk have to pull me out of bed at 4am, stumble through the darkness towards a remote wilderness meadow just to catch a glimpse of a grand elk, is amazing. That’s why I keep myself in shape and spend so much money to be in elk country for those few moments in the fall when I can be close to elk. That is why I hunt them. Not for the meat, the hide or antlers. To be closer to them than they are willing to be with me.

The price may be more than I can pay. How can I justify their life for my morbid fascination? When I find the lifeless body of my elk and see the emptiness in his eyes destroys the essence of the moment when I finally get the chance to see him up close. What I really crave is the short time before the elk first entered the crosshairs of my scope. The reality of my situation is heartbreaking. I can never achieve what I want without experiencing incredible loss. Somewhere between struggle and contentment I search to find acceptance. That the closest I will ever get will always be just out of reach.

With a restless heart I venture into remote alpine basins each September knowing I will never achieve my goal. Because living without the sight of that tan body and dark mane, without walking endless miles uphill through sage, aspen and pine I will never satisfy my own soul. The answer to the question for me then is simply this; I can’t kill something I love so much. Even if that means I will never get as close as I want. Even if that means I will never know what it feels like to touch a grand elk. Deep inside my soul the elk and I have reached an agreement. I will faithfully observe from as close as they dare allow me. And to me they will always live free. And both of us will let nature decide our fate.