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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Matt Liere: Young hunter’s trepidation familiar to veteran sportsman

Surprisingly, the recent cold snap failed to drive all the doves out of Eastern Washington, as enough still frequented my secret “honey hole” each evening to encourage a late-month hunt.

Even better, my young son decided to he would join me, a new 20-gauge over-under in hand, and give it a try.

This past spring, Walker earned his hunter ID card –with high marks – in a five-day education course, and we anticipated the upcoming fall season. But as the September opener rolled around, I could tell something was amiss. His enthusiasm had vanished, replaced by thin excuses – followed by his absence as opening day of doves came and went. His grandfather and I had a lovely shoot, but my son’s presence was missed.

I didn’t say a word, but Walker eventually came to let me know he was having reservations about hunting. Bigger game, especially, gave him pause for thought, uncertain he could pull the trigger on something so majestic and beautiful as a late fall deer. I admired his courage in telling me so, and to be truthful, was pleased to learn that he experienced conflicting emotions.

I’ve often felt the same way about hunting, finding it necessary to reevaluate my perspective every year. Pulling the trigger may be a simple, seemingly mindless function, but is by far the hardest part of hunting.

Most nonhunters, or those with only a few beans for brains, believe we hunt and live for the kill, our joy derived from the final action of death. They view us a lecherous bunch, one that gets their kicks from shooting innocent animals, relish the taste of blood, or as those that can’t wait to watch the haze swallow life from a living creature’s eyes.

Truth be told, ethical hunters share a similar view with their critics, but use it as an example or model of “what NOT to be” rather than as a credo to live by.

Not every hunter has a Ph.D. in physics, but most are smart enough to understand that Newton’s Third Law describes that when we lift our hand, there will be an equal and opposite reaction. That sometimes means death for something on the business end, but also assures opposing emotions of joy and sadness; excitement and turmoil occur on the other.

It’s can be a monumanal leap for a young, inexperienced hunter to be forced to wrestle with these conflicting elements before having actively been a part of them. This was the chasm at which my son had arrived, and I was proud to see him struggle for balance.

From our hiding spot near the pond, I watched our spirited Brittany, Lucy, tense and shift slightly right, fixated on movement from behind. My son noticed, too. His eyes craned back to track three small doves bobbing and weaving our way. Walker’s thumb stretched toward the safety as they finalized an erratic flight path, intent on landing in the dead apple snag atop the hill. My son stood from his crouch, shouldered and swung on the lead bird – and leapt.