The spirit of the northwoods- What deer hunting means to me
55The firearm whitetail deer season is almost here in the great state of Michigan again, and I thought I would write a few words about what hunting means to me personally, and why I love it so much.
When I am out in the woods and the only sounds that I can hear is the wind in the leaves, both on the trees in the summer, and on the ground in the fall, I am reminded of just how small we are as individual people in the big scheme of things. When I am miles from the nearest paved road, town or any of the other things that we have come to call "civilization", I can feel the presence of God, and feel the love that He has for all of us as His children. I am not what anybody would call a "super religious" person by no means, not that I have any problems with those people who are. On the contrary, I have nothing but admiration and respect for those who are, but I guess that I was made differently in that aspect.
When I am out there in the middle of no where, alone, the feeling I get is that we are not alone, and that God, and the spirits of all those who came before us are alongside me. To me, deer hunting is not about the killing. In my opinion, those who are out there just to kill have no business being out in the woods, and that it soils the sport both for me, and those who share the love I have for the forest. The truth is that when I do get a deer, I actually feel a little guilty for killing it. Those who don't have that twinge don't have enough respect for the noble animal who just gave up its life so that we hunters and our families can have some venison.
I also love the comradeship hunters seem to have for each other. In deer camp, we are just people, and the barriers that everyday divide us as humans, seem to go away, at least for a little while.
The area of the state that I hunt is in the northeast part of the state, right in the heart of what is known as "club country". I consider myself very fortunate to be able to go to a place as beautiful as "Smoky Hollow". (that's not a typo in the name of the club, its always been spelled that way). The club has been there since 1927, and I have been going up there since I was 2 or 3 years old. My grandpa started going up there in 1970, and fell in love with the club and land. I wish that he was still around, but he passed away in 1990. There are so many things I wish I could ask him, but life doesn't work that way. By the time a person gets old enough to appreciate the life experiences that grandparents have, and the knowledge of their families.
My dad is a member of the club now, and we go up there several times a year. It's a wonderful place to relax and recharge in the summertime. It helps to get away from our day to day lives, and have a good time.
In a little over 2 weeks, I will be up there again, and I can't wait. I love it. It is a part of who I am.
