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Hunting frees us from life's tedium

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Some interpretations of neolithic cave paintings contend that they portray hunting scenes. Philosophers, not always of the first rank, have pondered the significance of hunting from the times when humans first attained literacy. The greatest thinkers of human history -- Plato, for instance, or Confucius -- had little to say about hunting, which shows only that it does not appeal to those on the heights of human insight and civilization.

Those among us who claim they aspire to such heights are often bewildered why otherwise sensible, even sensitive, men and women bother to hunt.

Such persons think hunting is a bother! They forget that today no one is obliged to hunt, which sullies their aspirations to insight, let alone civility.

If you must eat meat, they say, go to the butcher's shop. The fact is, hunting is not about meat or anything usefully connected to meat. True, most hunters in this country love to eat what they kill, although I'm not sure this approach extends to shooting a lion or an elephant. Today, however, in the modern technological society that most Canadians endure, no one can be unaware that routine, drudgery, and unexciting everydayness are the chief characteristics of our so-called civilization.

Such a way of living, if unrelieved by challenges that are purposeful but also useless, promises nothing but the degrading of the human spirit. That is why many people take part in religious ceremonies. It is why some go hunting. Grace is a gift that comes in many forms and shapes, as do ethical codes.

In part, hunting is a diversion from the ennui of everyday life -- making money, marking exams, cleaning out plugged plumbing, or hauling grain to the elevator. Its appeal cuts across social strata. Most diversions are hardly more taxing than watching TV or opening another beer. There is no pain, no risk, no effort, and a minimum of concentration. But hunting, at least if performed by a moderately competent practitioner, involves all those things. The exertion required of hunting ensures that the reward will be enduring happiness rather than fleeting pleasure.

There is plenty of pain, especially as one grows more experienced in the steepness of coulees. A hunter is more than a dude who sits in a blind once a year and pots away at a few passing ducks or prowls the back roads with a rifle out the window looking for a mule deer in the ditch. Hunters dedicate a part of their existence to their chosen activity. How much dedication will vary, but always more than wasted time is involved. When genuine hunters encounter one another, perhaps for the first time, they acknowledge dedication above all. They know they have abandoned, however temporarily, the world of "dull care" as some contemporary philosophers describe the ordinary.

There is no such thing as a passive hunter, nor a frivolous one. The need for concentration, endurance and skill ensures that there can be no higher sense of alertness outside military life. Every hunter has experienced that momentary relaxation in readiness that explains how the game got away. Every hunter knows that game always is scarce and that inevitably it is suddenly there, and just as suddenly gone. This truth appears with every hunt because no one is alert enough all the time.

Another aspect of hunting, the primitive experience of hospitality that nurtures friendship, was confirmed again last weekend. We stayed for the 20th year with hosts in New Dayton who again opened their home to an influx of hunters, some family, most not. Friday night, there were more than 20 people, spanning four generations, in the large, warm farmhouse kitchen, with a cold wind howling outside.

One guest sang like an operatic tenor. Another recited cowboy poetry to make you weep. The less talented remainder entertained one another with tales of the day's adventures, of great shots made and splendid stalks that left the hunter alone on the prairie with vanished deer. Happiness in the field or after does not necessarily mean success. We were all reminded that, as the late Harry Snyder of Sundre used to say, the friendships we make while hunting are the best and truest that bless anyone during their whole lifetime.

Barry Cooper is a professor of political science at the University of Calgary and a Fellow of the Canadian Defence and Foreign Affairs Institute.