By Jeff Moyers
Back in early September, Hardy County held the annual fall hunter education course. I’ve been an instructor for quite a few years now and recently I’ve been thinking about our program.
We try to share with the kids about ethics, how to handle a gun safely, basic hunting skills, the importance of wearing blaze orange, practicing wildlife conservation and habitat management, how to administer basic first aid, archery and tree stand skills and safety, basic trapping, and basic muzzle loading rifle safe usage among other things, but I wish we could do more.
I wish we could teach them to appreciate the peaceful feeling of a walk thru the evening woods with a favorite rifle in the crook of your arm, despite the fact that you never pulled the trigger. Wouldn’t it be great if we could share with them the satisfaction of seeing tree seedlings peeking out of their tubes and food plots turning green, both of which you planted, or the sense of irritation when you find one of your tree tubes full of teeth and claw marks? I wish we could impress upon them to respect creation and try to give back by not littering, picking up trash, or feeding the birds for example. I wish we could help them to understand that we have laws, seasons, and bag limits for good reason, and that it’s no more ok to cheat in the woods than it is in the classroom or on the ball field.
I wish we could teach them the value of pictures of sunrises and sunsets, the contentment of sitting around a comfortable room in a remote old house or cabin, sharing a good cup of coffee with like-minded friends, getting ready for or winding down from the hunt, or just enjoying the sound of the rain falling outside and staying put, telling and retelling stories of favorite hounds long passed, great old guns, and the big bucks, gobblers, and bears seen over the years. I wish we could help them to appreciate watching another day dawn from somewhere on a high ridge and to be thankful for it.
If only we could teach them the thrill of the hounds in full cry, be it a hot bear track or a jumped rabbit, or the simple satisfaction of watching the game go about their day, or slipping wide around the little herd of assorted does and fawns grazing in the field, knowing you could have taken and made the shot had the season been in, but this time you left them in peace and thanked them for sharing the day with you.
I wish we could show them that true success is measured in pictures taken, game seen, pine knots and firewood found, turkey feathers gathered up, walking a little bit further despite tired and achy legs, watching that big old coon shinny up a tree up ahead of you at early dusk and think he’s hiding from you up there in that fork as your camera flashes, that fur and feathers taken are merely a bonus, the cherry on top of this perfect day, and that the greatest success is getting home safely and being able to do it all again on another day. If only we could help them to exchange their video games for trail cameras and get their thrills from pictures taken and not virtual lives taken. If only we could teach them some of these things, then I think we’d truly be training hunters.
