FOR LOVE OF THE GAME
The snow started yesterday at about 4:30 p.m.Now,more than 24 hours later,the precipitation hasn't quit.The challenge against nature is part of the allure;we struggle against panic when the outlook is bleak.We haven't eaten anything except one can of Campbell's Thick and Chunky
each per day for the last three days. There are six inches of snow on the ground, and a day's worth of sleet on top of that. We're about five miles north and roughly 4,000 feet up from our base camp; it took four hours on horseback to get here and we'll be battling snow and sleet on the way back down.
PHOTOS/JARED GAB
Our priorities shifted from hunting to keeping our clothes dry and our horses alive. Even though the weather spoiled our last day of hunting, this is still as alive and
capable as I've felt for some time, battling the elements with the only things I've got: weapons, wit, a couple of halfway-lazy and tired horses, good sleeping baas, and will.
My brother Josh and I were up in the high country west of Gunnison, Colo. At about 11,000 feet up, we ran into harsh elements as we tried to bow hunt for elk in the West Elk Wilderness. Even though we ran into some bad luck, it was a bonding experience that out well by our standards — we
survived.
Many think hunting is about killing things, but it's more than that; hunting is an American tradition that allows families to bond, helps the environment and provides hunters with a test of skill and wits versus nature.
Right of passage
In my family, hunting is a right of passage from boyhood to adulthood. I used to shadow my uncle and my father with a BB gun
until I was 8, old enough to take a hunter's safety course and get a hunting license. I remember my following my dad, Uncle Fred and brothers, struggling to lift my knees high enough to walk through the deep snow without tripping. I followed along, dreaming of the day I could carry a shotgun of my own and hunt alongside the men.
When that day finally arrived, I felt like a part of the family's circle. The night before my first hunt, I couldn't sleep. I laid out my clothes and kept looking at my shotgun, thinking I was finally part of something that my grandfather had once taken part in and passed along to his posterity.
08> JAYPLAY 11.30.2006
David Albers, Dallas junior, had a similar experience. Albers has been hunting since he was 8 or 9, when he started deer hunting with his father.
PHOTOS/JARED GAB
Hunters travel to South Dakota for the opening weekend of pheasant season this fall. The group cleaned the birds they shot after long days walking through the tall grasses.
"My younger brother could never hunt until my dad thought he was old enough," Albers says. "We'd go to the gun range and go through gun safety with Dad, but he still couldn't hunt until he was old enough to go through hunter's education courses."
Family bond
Ben Shear, 2005 graduate, has been hunting for six years. He started when his girlfriend's father, now his father-in-law, invited him along on a quail and pheasant hunt.
They had had a good day, bagging a couple of quail and a few pheasant, but they were late to meet Shear's girlfriend and her mother. Shear held the birds while his now father-in-law cut the birds hastily, and accidentally cut off the end of one of Shear's fingers. "After that, I knew I'd never have a problem marrying his daughter," Shear says.
Some parts of hunting are a lot like camping. You're out in nature, away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life, which leads to
developing a natural bond with whomever you are with.
That is the part of hunting that my father wanted to pass along to his children. I never saw Dad ki anything in his life except snake which my mother abhorred. He loved nature and wanted us to be out there as a family. Most of the time, Dad walked along with acting as the bird dog when we didn't have one. After successful hunts, he assisted in cleaning the game. Dad wasn't opposed to hunting. he just didn't get into the killing part.
Antediluvian
Antediluvian When you go on a hunt, then