“Aw, shucks!” said the shaman. He kicked the dirt, feigning humility. “Thanks for the kind words.”

[WARNING: The shaman is going for a dive in the deep water. You may want to put on your hip boots. For the brave, may I suggest a mask and snorkel and follow along.]

Now see, you’ve gone and just egged me on. If this keeps up, I might get a swell-head and get drunk and start writing about how black rifles are the devil’s work.

Just for the record, I have nothing against military arms for hunting. However, if you show up in a tactical vest and digital camo, I will hope you’re hunting on different ridge than mine.

But see, this is all fits in with what we’re talking about. There is really no sensible argument for or against any of this. I’ve seen arguments erupt online over which flavor camo. One deer hunter friend of mine was aghast when I told him I could not remember what brand of camo was on my jacket.

It all depends on what’s rolling around in your head that causes you to take up arms and go work it out on the unsuspecting game animals. It’s taken me over a quarter century to deal with that, but it’s true.

“Sometimes a man must do insane things in order to stay sane.”
— Stacey Keach as Col. Kane in “The Ninth Configuration”

There is no sane reason to hunt deer. We leave our sanity in the truck. That does not mean we will not act in a manner that is moral, lawful, ethical, and humane. It just means we are putting ourselves in a situation that has no good rational foundation. To hunt is to cross past the veil.

Let me get into some technical shamanic stuff for a moment. For a man to work past the veil requires some form of protection. In ceremonial magick, one draws a magick circle on the floor and does his work inside the circle to protect himself from harm. As a shaman, I always thought that whole magick circle thing was for pedestrians. A good defense is a good offense. Give me my staff, and I shall not fear. Tigers never cringe and all that. When I went past the veil, I went with the knowledge that I was the apex predator in the neighborhood. I still do. That’s why I guess I like hunting deer. By the time I cross that last strand of barbed wire on the way to my stand, I am in that state of mind.

For a deer hunter, the magic circle is replaced with the deer rifle. It anchors his psyche. It provides him a link to the rational world. Without it, he is powerless. Without it, the hunter could not do the work he intends. Twice now, and this year’s buck is included in this, I have been happy I had my trusty Savage 99 in my hands when the big one showed up. A rutted-up buck coming to a grunt is an awesome sight– head out, ears back, all stiff-legged, looking for YOU. I was glad I was in a tree. I was glad I was armed. I was glad I was armed with something that began with a 3 instead of a 2. A 4 might have been more to my liking at that moment. Before I touched it off, I had a brief thought that shooting a load that was 8% off max might just make him mad.

“Without it, the hunter could not do the work he intends.”
match that with “I hunt not to kill, but rather I kill to have hunted.” Without the deer rifle, the hunter is just another goofy hiker. With the rifle, he is engaging in one of the oldest and most sacred rituals we have. It predates us as a species. There is something deep inside us that can only be expressed through the act of hunting. I don’t think it is in every man. One writer talked about the hunting gene. That may be the case. If so, I’ve got it. I know that in my own experience, hunting has had a profound effect on my life. It has made me a far saner, mature, and rational man. However, I also have to admit that there is no sane reason for me to do it.

So here we have a deeply profound ritual, a blood ritual, at the very core of our existence. How can we ever hope to bring it back into terms we can understand? We are, after all, men. Men rationalize. Therefore we attempt to rationalize our hunting. We measure it. We discuss it. We read books on it. We argue about it. We try to bring it back down to a level we can appreciate.

Unlike religion, or team sport there is no real structure to deer hunting. We have to deal with it without benefit of rules, catechism, liturgy, or play-by-play and color commentary. It just is, and we struggle within ourselves and with our peers to come to grips with it.

However, I don’t think we can. I don’t think we, as humans, can fully grasp it. That’s what makes it an insane process. We keep doing it season after season expecting some other outcome besides tag soup on the one hand and a dead deer that need to be gutted on the other. Instead of ever getting to the bottom of the Cracker Jack box and finding the prize, we find that we have grown as men for having gone. That, if anything, is the true reward. We walk back to the truck, and put back on our sane, everyday heads and head for home.

In that light. It makes perfect sense for the otherwise senseless argument over 30-06 vs. 270, Predator vs RealTree, Remchester vs Rugage. We need to feel that our magic stick has what it takes to protect us beyond the veil and can transmit the power necessary to enforce our will on the beasts. We also crave the perception that others will judge our magic stick as we see it and will not think it too short or too puny.

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