It was a Sunday, blue skies, no rain, and beautiful weather in Southeast Alaska.

My uncle and I had just seen yet another black bear after two days of hunting. He slipped lazily into the thick timber. Perhaps he’d heard us puttering up to the shore in our skiff or maybe he could smell something strange in the air? Whatever it was, he was gone, vanishing into the thick vegetation common in Southeast Alaska.

As we began to pull away, the bear slipped from the trees once again, 100 yards further down the shoreline.

We crept back to the water’s edge. I disembarked once the boat bumped into the rocky shore, a Winchester Model 70 chambered in .338 slung across my back, a pair of Vortex binoculars hanging from my neck, and waterproof boots around my feet.

Walking slowly down the beach, I came to the corner of a small cove. Peering over a tangled pile of rocks, my adrenaline suddenly surged through my veins as I spotted a coal black mass. I ducked down, and pressed my body tight to the rocks.

I hesitated, then fumbled for my binoculars, and then began peering back across the cove. The bear was a large, mature boar and his hide was immaculate, spreading across a nice head, a big back, and down to his muddy paws.

I dropped back down and pulled the rifle from my shoulder, crawling to a shooting position where I could lean the rifle across the jagged rock. I looked down the scope, pulled my head away, and increased the magnification. I lined my sights back up, placing the cross hairs just behind the bears shoulder, placed my finger on the trigger and pulled.

With a sharp crack the bullet took off, whistling through the air and I watched the bear closely to see if I hit the mark.

Half a second seemed like half an hour, but then the bear began to violently spin, nipping at his side. My eyes, glued to the scope, lined up another shot, and I pulled again.

Another bullet whistled through the air and met its mark, entering the front left shoulder and exiting near the back right side of the chest cavity.

The bear falls and within a few minutes, he’s dead. I’m left in a whirlwind of emotions where there’s little want for celebration. In fact there’s an overwhelming sense of grief that lasts for days, accompanied by deep, intriguing thoughts of life, and death, and everything in between.

It’s a strange feeling, and it makes me question my actions. “Why did I shoot that bear?” and “Why do I even hunt?” These questions, and those raised by others are the reason I decided to write this article. As a way to express why a hunter hunts. An answer which is often hard for us to explain, except through all too common responses, like the fact that it’s a way to put good, organic meat in the freezer.

So Why Do People Hunt?

I doubt every hunter does it for the meat, but finding a way to express his thoughts on hunting isn’t easy , especially when you search “psychology of hunting” or “why do people hunt”. You’re going to find a lot of subjective opinions and twisted facts.

Take this line for example:

Criminologist Xanthe Mallett also studied people who hunt for sport and discovered that they share a “dark triad” of personality traits that include narcissism, machiavellianism, and psychopathy.

Now without even mentioning that the study did not include “incidents where the animal was killed for food” or “while hunting or fishing” (if you want to read the original study being referenced, I’ve included it here), I doubt that ALL hunters suffer from narcissism, machiavellianism, and psychopathy. In fact, I believe that the large majority of hunters are compassionate individuals with good intentions.

It becomes difficult to explain your motives without first being labelled as an egotistical psychopath by those who oppose hunting. But if you take a deeper look into the sport, diving past emotional arguments and illogical fallacies, it becomes clear why a hunter hunts.

Is It A Hunter’s Ego?

Dr. Joel R. Saper of the University of Michigan has theorized that hunting “may reflect a profound yet subtle psychosexual inadequacy,” and clinical psychologist Margaret Brooke-Williams adds, “Hunters are seeking reassurance of their sexuality.” And sure enough, hunting was a way for Assyrian royalty and other ancient cultures to show power and skill.

But I doubt that Saper and Brooke Williams’ theories reflect the true nature of most modern hunters. I do believe that the need to prove ourselves through hunting is still existent as a natural, primal instinct, but there are so many other ways to do this in modern society.

Hit the gym, become an MMA fighter, buy a BMW, get a promotion, or find an attractive partner, and then show it off on social media.

And the numbers of female hunters is skyrocketing, with a 25% increase from 2006 to 2011 and over 3 million women hunting in 2014. It would surprise me if they, and their male counterparts in the field, were trying to reassure their “sexuality”.

So, to me, the argument that all hunters “hunt” to please their ego and reassure their sexuality is shallow and weak. There’s other answers to the question, “why do people hunt” that more deeply reflect the true nature of the modern hunter.

It’s Natural.

Hunting’s natural.

You can’t disprove that our ancestors hunted for subsistence and that it was essential to the survival of early humans. It’s part of our brain’s natural code and as omnivores, we are born with a strong predatory instinct that can’t be eliminated easily, even if you can pick up a steak at the grocery store.

James Swan, an environmental psychologist from the University of Michigan, states:

Hunting is a very basic instinct programmed into the master computer of our species for survival purposes that has been elevated by ethics to become a ‘sport,’ which enables us to express our basic biological identity .

In their book “The Paleolithic Prescription” health experts S. Boyd Eaton, Melvin Konner, and Marjorie Shostak claim that devaluing hunting’s role weakens healthy social standards and contributes to juvenile delinquency.

They write:

Our ‘ hunting instinct’ has gone awry in ‘civilized’ society, where the thrill of the chase and the kill are no longer part of our experience and there are no clear avenues of expression except, perhaps to our peril, in the streets and subways of today’s urban jungles.

Hunting is very much a part of us, even as it was 1,000 years ago. To deny our natural need to express this is ignorant, and to close off all of its outlets is dangerous.

The Challenge Is Exciting, Not The Kill.

Hunting is exciting. Shooting a black bear was exciting. Adrenaline streamed through my veins, and I felt the thrill of the chase, and this is perhaps the reason hunting’s antagonists portray it as a terrible, blood-thirsty sport.

To them, a hunter, no matter his background or values, who describes a hunt as exciting, suddenly becomes a wild psychopath, crashing through the woods with wide, blood-shot eyes, while foaming around the mouth. And as he returns to society he becomes prone to violence and a danger to others.

However, this doesn’t seem quite true. Melvin Konner, in his award-winning book “The Tangled Wing” states:

“There is little or no evidence, physiological or behavioral, to suggest that predatory aggression has much in common with intraspecies aggression.”

Just because someone describes hunting as fun does not mean that they’re a psychopath. A release of predatory aggression is exciting, but it’s also natural.

In fact, I believe most people find hunting exciting because it offers a challenge. A test of one man’s hunting skills and endurance, and not because they get to watch animals suffer.

As a young man, I often hunted jackrabbits in parts of Utah. At first, I struggled. Finding them was a challenge, and the sight of a rabbit ripping through the sagebrush only exacerbated the problem. But eventually I figured out.

In fact, I mastered the art of finding jackrabbits. I would go out, shoot several in an hour, and come home. And at that point, it lost it’s charm. I didn’t want to see rabbits suffer, that wasn’t exciting or right. But the challenge of learning the game was. Testing my skills as a “predator” was fun until I became proficient, and I moved on to other “prey”.

I feel that the same rings true for others. Shooting a deer is only as exciting as it is challenging. Steep hills, cold mornings, and empty days are what give pulling the trigger its special charm. Bloody hands and hours spent trimming meat is what gives it such a special taste.

Camaraderie

As humans, we constantly search for social interaction and a sense of belonging. They’re natural desires coded into even the most basic parts of our brain, and they strongly influence our actions.

When we can’t satisfy these needs with our family and friends, we search elsewhere, whether it’s gangs or drugs or something else.

Liana Sonterblum of New York University states:

Research shows that many gang-involved youth lack close ties with their families, friends, and schools.

However, hunting offers people a chance to join tightly knit groups or reconnect with good friends. It gives kids a chance to deeply bond with their parents or siblings. And these connections become traditions. Hunters will hunt with the same people, on the same day, in the same place, year after year.

My brother and I have duck hunted together every year on Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Day in the exact same place since I was 16. It’s tradition, and it’s left us with a closer relationship and stories to share. We often take our dad, creating meaningful memories and experiences with him as well.

Last year I joined my uncles and grandfather in Kansas on a pheasant hunt. The birds were thick, and the good times were just as plentiful.

While hunting, deep and lasting friendships are formed after tough days in the field. At night, huddled around the fire, stories are shared, laughs are heard, and people open themselves to others in a way that doesn’t seem possible while in the comfort and security of civilization.

Deep Connections With Nature

Albert Einstein once said:

Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.

Hunting has a way of forcing you to venture into nature and come home with greater understanding of yourself, of life, of death, and of the world, whether you like it or not.

Beyond spending countless hours in the woods and long stretches of time in untouched places, hunting often results in harvesting an animal, a unique experience that strongly affects anyone involved.

When I was younger, and went on my first deer hunt in Utah, I got the chance to harvest a small buck. We had scaled a small hill, and after walking to the edge of a draw, I spotted him 150 yards across on the other slope.

I put a round in the chamber and raised the gun until my cross hairs were sitting over the deer’s vitals. My heart was on overdrive, thumping at an uncontrollable rate, and my hands were sweating profusely, but I pulled the trigger and a loud crack rang out.

The deer fell, rolling over and over until he landed in the bottom of the draw. I found him in a patch of tall grass a few minutes later, still alive. I shot him again and within a few minutes he was gone.

Being that close to an animal while it passed over the threshold of life and into death was deeply moving for me as a young kid. It “forced” me take a deep look into nature. To consider the principles of life and death we are so often taught, and to do it in new, profound ways that would not be necessary otherwise.

Of course, these feelings, these “deep looks”, aren’t present in every hunter. Some callous their minds to it, while others just blatantly ignore it. But I believe that the large majority of hunters feel what I’ve described, and it becomes stronger, perhaps, as they become older and more experienced.

Ten years later and I still felt those same things after I shot a black bear, and they influenced me more than ever before. A newfound respect for such creatures, and the desire I have for their conservation has grown out of that “deep look”.

It’s hard to explain these feelings and thoughts if you haven’t been there before. If you haven’t taken the life of an animal while hunting before it seems backwards.

How could someone love an animal if they want to kill it?

Erich Fromm, a German psychologist, points out that the motivation of an ethical, modern hunter is pleasure fused with compassion. He contrasts this sharply with the sadist or psychopath, who tortures and kills pets or other small animals, an act of revenge.

James Swan, further explains that:

Hunting and pet torture are as unalike as sexual intercourse in a loving relationship and rape.

Few people will ever have such intimate interactions with wild animals. Most will never touch a black bear’s hide or the antler of a mature bull elk. But these experiences are what cultivates the hunter’s compassion.

Perhaps it’s easiest to understand if you watch the action’s, not the words of the hunter.

It’s what drives him to the mountains, to watch over his quarry and report poachers. To work with state fish and wildlife departments, and to contribute millions of dollars from his pockets to the conservation of his quarry. It’s what influenced hunters in the early 1900’s to push for a stronger conservation model and caused the creation of private organizations like Ducks Unlimited.

When a hunter kills, he does so in an ethical manner, one which he knows is sustainable and will provide needed funding for the conservation of cherished wildlife (for more on sustainable conservation, click here). He kills, but he gives life to entire species as well.

People don’t hunt because they seek to destroy nature. They do it because they feel a deep connection with the land, and seek to protect it so that they, and others, can continue to hunt and experience times and places which seem almost sacred.

Concluding Thoughts

Why do people hunt?

There’s some natural programming that pushes hunters towards the sport, such as the need to be be accepted and respected. But I think that our world provides many other ways to do this. It’s as easy as posting a few photos on social media and sending out a couple friend requests.

Besides the need to show predatory aggression, I believe people hunt because it’s exciting. It’s challenging. It provides people an avenue in which they can bond deeply with family and friends, and ultimately, it leads them deeper into the woods and to a meaningful connection with nature. A connection that results in new found respect for the animals that walk the woods, and a love that only comes when you experience the intimacy that hunting offers.

Hunting has become a controversial topic in today’s world.

Anti-hunting groups, celebrities, and other antagonists attack the sport, and it can be hard to truly explain why people hunt.

There’s always the age-old answer of obtaining your own meat.

But hopefully the words above can help you verbalize or understand some of those deep and meaningful reasons that people feel, but can’t explain.

So why do people hunt? Well, you tell me. If you guys have any more thoughts on hunting to share, please, let me know in the comments below.