Hunting for the Truth

I recently shared that I have been working with a hunting educational organization called 1Campfire. It captured some attention. Hunting tends to do that. People find it strange when you say you hunt. There are strong opinions on both sides. Some come out of the shadows to cautiously admit they hunt. Some feel the need to loudly proclaim where they stand. Some unfollow. Hunting makes people strange.

I grew up in a family that hunted. Not often, but enough to have a whole schwack of firearms in the house. We also had animals. Lots of them. Growing up on a small farm on Vancouver Island—and working on large farms as a hard-working teenager—guns and wildlife and livestock were common.

I killed my first grouse in grade 5 or 6, with a pellet gun. I cried. My dad was so proud. It was conflicting, but I felt closer to the land. The grouse tasted delicious.

On the farm, our horses were attacked by cougars and threatened by wolves.

Our rabbits and chickens killed by raccoons.

Our ducks picked off easily by eagles and mink.

We ate the fish that my dad caught, and the local beef he traded salmon and halibut for. We shared the bear and deer that was hunted by both my father and his friends. We had a dry shallow well and an outhouse in the summer.

Life gets real in a different way outside the city.

As a skier and mountain biker, I left to spend eight years shredding Fernie Alpine Resort . All the farming and firearms and raw outdoor fun was traded for a different brand of good times: steep and deep snow and single track, and an outdoor community that didn’t—and doesn’t—always understand life beyond the urban mindset, despite living in the mountains.

Last year, I was invited by filmmaker and hunter Jesse Bone to try and build a bridge between hunters and the mostly urban audience who still see hunters as chain-smoking racists throwing empties out of pickup trucks in cut blocks. In my experience, most hunters, fishers, and farmers are stand-up people, at least as much as any other human. Hunting and fishing are not easy, or affordable, or even socially acceptable at times, and lazy loudmouths don’t last long doing either. It takes passion and knowledge and commitment.?

For the past year, I’ve worked with this inspiring team of hunters who have shown me how hard the work is to repair lazy stereotypes. For example, hunters are some of the ardent and dedicated conservationists I have met, and I’ve worked behind the scenes and on staff in conservation for years. I’ve seen more good work done by hunters to safeguard wildlife and the environments than most other organizations. Most people have no idea.

The division between hunters and non-hunters has become vast, and I love being part of a movement that seeks to tell the truth about ethical, holistic hunting. For the ones that give thanks and prayer to an animal they have harvested. The ones who understand that science should come first, not emotions. The ones who happily don’t take the shot unless the situation is perfect. Healthy food. Time in the mountains. A sense of purpose. What's not to like?

Still, the challenge in changing minds is significant but the subject matter is as rich as any other culture I have experienced and the response so far to my work has been wildly encouraging and appreciated.

The team at 1Campfire (which is funded by donations from the Wild Sheep Society of British Columbia ) recently signed me up for another year of curating, crafting messaging, photo editing, and #copywriting for their #socialmedia channels and film series. I hope the contract lasts forever. The work is needed.

Thank you to Jesse at Filter Studios Inc. , Kyle Stetler, Greg Rensmaag, and especially our fearless leader Jann Demaske, for trusting me with the gig. Onward.

Follow our Instagram: www.Instagram.com/1Campfire

Follow our Facebook: www.facebook.com/1Campfire

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