By Casey Snider

I try not to justify my hunting addictions to my wife and since we cleared this activity while dating she doesn’t tend to pry. She is supportive and I’m lucky. When the bank statements come in, I don’t have defend new camo purchases, bulk packages of shells, new decoys or the cost of fuel for trips that yielded no meat as return on the investment. She smiles politely, rolls her eyes when I’m not looking, and writes it off as a “man thing.”

But while my wonderful wife doesn’t question my motives, society tends to. Growing up I had neighbors who would cringe and cry while I breasted out mallards in the front driveway.  Through the backyard I’m sure they always kept an eye out on me, waiting for when I’d go postal.

And now as fall comes around and my waterfowl season moves into full swing I know that the questions of “why do you” or “how could you” are not far behind.

A part of me always wondered if I was the crazy one, and in moments of weakness I’ve thought maybe those pointing fingers might be right. But what I ultimately realized then, and what has been confirmed since, is as hunters and anglers, as sportsmen, no one really cares more about wildlife and wild places.

We can look to economics. The ancients speculated that where our money flows, there the desires of our heart will pool.  Hunters and anglers spend millions on licenses, on taxes, on lodging and supplies to chase beast, fish, and fowl. The dollars that leave well worn wallets, articulate the things many with our own voices could never say. We spend to both pursue and save.

We finance ecological protections, spend for conservation, and pay to preserve. Hunters and anglers do all this, not because of some desire for a tax write off or because we find glory in philanthropic contributions. We break the bank, spend the last dollar, mortgage our future finances, because we love the game we pursue.

But what about the death component? Is it really love if you hurt, or in many cases kill, the object of your chase? For me the answer is a resounding yes.

For true sportsmen, killing is not done out a want for blood and hunting and fishing is not pursued out of a desire to hurt or maim. For them, for me,  it is done out of a need to be part of the process. The way I reason it, the more the world fabricates itself out of phony plastics and digital mirages, the more we need experiences that operate in reality and remind us of life’s impermanence. The miracle of living is a precious gift, and participation in the taking of it acts as a sacred reminder of that fact.

And while hunting or fishing are dramas whose finale always culminates it at least some small tragedy, the reason I participate is not out of some sadistic desire to play the villain, but instead out of a need to participate on the only stage in life that is real.

Casey Snider is the Utah Coordinator for Trout Unlimited’s Sportsmen’s Conservation Project.  When he is not out chasing stinky ducks in sticky places, Casey lives with his wonderful wife in the heart of Paradise, Utah.