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[weatherman on radio] Today, south winds,
15 knots increasing to 25 knots.

Sea is nine feet.

Rain, tonight, south wind, 20 knots.

Sea is nine feet.

East winds, 25 knots. Sea is eight feet.

[Steve] I became a hunter
for the same reason that most hunters do.

Because my father was a hunter.

It tends to move along like that,
along a line of patrilineal descent.

My father hunted, and his father hunted.

My maternal grandfather hunted.

It was what we did. It's who we were.

And it's important to mention here
that I was introduced to it

as an act of love for the natural world.

I know now that that sounds suspicious
to some people.

This idea of hunting as a manifestation

of love for the land and its animals.

It might reasonably be asked,
"Wouldn't it be the opposite?

Wouldn't it be an act of aggression?"

I'm open to discussing this with anyone
who cares enough to share their thoughts.

Though I have no illusions.

There always be a rift
between hunters and non-hunters.

[moderator] Questions?

Steven, don't you think
these animals you've killed

want to live as much as you or I do?

In fact, isn't this just a rationalization
for murdering innocent creatures,

to shoot innocent animals,
animals that have beating hearts,

that run from you simply because
they want to live?

They're not armed with copper bullets
or lead bullets.

I hear... not really asking
a question, you're making a point.

But I'm going to answer it
like a question.

[Steve] I would say that if you look
at the grand spectrum

of species on this planet,

you'll not find many that...

that don't prey on other kinds.

People say generally, behaviorally,
and anatomically, modern humans

have been around for maybe 75,000 years.

On this continent alone,
people hunted for 15,000 years,

notwithstanding
the last couple hundred years.

So, to not hunt is
a fairly new experiment, in a human sense.

To ask a wolf not to hunt anymore...

is an impossible question.

So, if someone comes to me and says
that they don't want human hunting,

"We don't want to hunt." I'm kind of like,
"Coming from what perspective?"

That life is sacred.

Yeah, I... I know that life is sacred.

I admire the deer.

But I admire the idea of deer
more than the individual deer.

And I can assure you that I know
more about deer, than you ever will.

And I've learned that
through hunting for them,

and I probably care about them
in a way that's deeper

than something you were
going to experience

from having a removed perspective on it.

[Steve] The rift
between hunters and non-hunters,

it's been around since biblical times.

My hope for the future would be
that people who don't hunt...

would come to recognize hunting
as a positive force.

What tricks people up,
in recognizing that,

is the contradiction
that I return to all the time.

You love animals, and you kill them.

[Steve] The South African writer,
Laurens van der Post,

wrote that the San hunters
of the Kalahari believed

that the stars were great hunters.

And when the stars twinkled,
they were sharing hunting stories.

Whether he was correct

in his interpretation
of their beliefs is not clear.

But reading that forced me
to consider this idea

that there are as many
hunting stories out there

as there are stars in the sky.

Mine, being just one of them,

that happened to begin
when I was very young.

Sometimes I do wonder
about having been introduced to hunting

much later in life
and under different circumstances...

just to see
if I would think of it differently.

Because I do admit that I inherited
much of my perspective.

I reassess it constantly,

but the core beliefs were right there,
waiting for me at birth.

My dad hunted deer
from up in the trees with his bow.

And my two brothers and I
spent a lot of time with him,

perched up on these portable platforms
that we call "tree stands."

Watching anxiously for a deer to come
and pass beneath us.

It was like we were
some family of cougars,

waiting in ambush.

When you turn 12, you were sent off
to sit in your own tree.

And I remember vividly
the fear of the dark

when it fell on the woods.

And then, the relief of seeing
my brother's flashlight

coming through the trees to find me.

Hunting was a glue
that held our family together.

And I grew up into a guy
who writes about hunting,

and talks about hunting as an occupation.

My brothers became
professional biologists and ecologists.

Inspired by hunting to better
understand the mechanisms,

the interconnected cogs
and wheels of the natural world.

There's just not much
thought in it, early on.

It was just kind of
a foregone conclusion that,

that was the sort of thing
you would do with Dad,

uh, when you had free time.

We grew up hunting and...

It was just, part of our lifestyle
and we always ate off the land and...

[Danny] If I was in a position where I had
to defend myself to an anti-hunter,

the first thing that I would do
is make it clear that this is about food.

That I, when I go on a hunting trip,
I'm going out there to bring home

every usable scrap of meat on that animal,

cut it up and get it in my freezer,
and spend the next year eating it.

And, you know, I... I think
that's one commonly held misconception,

is that, uh, hunters are out there

to satisfy some bloodlust
that has nothing to do with food.

The modern American hunter
is a lot of different things.

I don't think you can make a composite

and say this is the average or the...

the, uh... The norm.

Uh, I think you're just doomed to failure.

I was born in Buffalo, New York,
but my dad is from Chicago.

He was an affirmed city boy.

As I matured as a hunter,

I was also maturing professionally
as a chef.

I served all my time in the US military
in the Navy SEAL teams.

I work for a software development company.

I currently serve
in the United States Senate, uh...

on behalf of the residents of New Mexico.

I was born and raised predominantly
in Adairville, Kentucky,

uh, next to the Cumberland River.

I guess it's not the meat, really.

I mean, if cabbages had legs
and walked around,

I'd probably hunt them too.

Ever since I was a kid, I wanted to be,

you know, the guy
who'd wander around in the woods,

you know, hunting
and fishing and trapping.

I had my father up until age seven.

He passed away.

I then was raised by my uncles.

A lot of my uncles were hunters,
so, they taught me quite a bit about it.

Everybody has their own thing,

you like to do crochet
and paint your house every day,

I like to go hunting.

The average American walking the street

does not think highly of hunters
and the way that they're characterized.

This kind of macho image
of glorifying violence.

Hunters in general have a PR problem.

A Tampa area man
has some explaining to do

after he says he mistook his girlfriend
for a wild hog and shot her.

[man 1] Got him. [chuckles]

[men laughing]

[news announcer] In Zimbabwe,
Cecil The Lion was as famous as Simba.

That is until
this Minnesota dentist came along

like some modern-day Ernest Hemingway.

Dr. Walter Palmer
paid $55,000 for a license

to hunt in Zimbabwe,
killing Cecil and skinned for a trophy.

Some rich asshole
who wants to go to Africa

and shoot a prized lion
that's got a GPS collar on it,

that was right next door
to a national refuge.

Holy shit. It's the worst example
of what hunting is.

Yeah, I would say the most egregious
method of hunting

would be a kind of trophy hunting.

[Doug] I do a certain amount
of trophy hunting.

Sure.

We have a 400-acre farm.

It's been in my family for 115 years.

I spend a few days every year
hunting on the farm.

Part of the motivation for hunting is...

...what some folks are going
to call a trophy.

Mounts on the wall.

There isn't a set of antlers

hanging on our wall
that I can't tell you the story of.

This would have been an acorn when
my great-grandfather bought the place.

What kind of tree is this one, Steve?

[Steve] Hickory.

[Doug] What kind of hickory?

[Steve] Shagbark.

[Doug] What kind of tree is this one?

-[Steve] It's a maple.
-[Doug] What kind of maple?

-[Steve] Sugar?
-[Doug] Red maple.

[Doug] As I was growing up,

you saw something
with an antler on it, you shot it.

A three-and-a-half or four-year-old buck,

larger antlers...
bigger deer just didn't exist.

And what did exist
was a whole bunch of does.

Twenty or thirty to one.

My brother Matthew was the first one
who started talking about

some of the principles of deer management.

Matt was... much younger
than the rest of us.

Matt, of all of us, was the...

one who was most interested in hunting.

He got real interested in the idea of,

"Let the small bucks go
so that they can get bigger."

Eventually it became
the idea of management

to mimic what we would expect in nature

more of a one-to-one balance, doe to buck.

There's a lot of good reasons
for doing that.

It was good for the deer.
It was good for the freezer.

It was good for the trophy management.

And as we found out over time,
it was also good for our forests,

and for our crops, to try to control
that herd a little bit more.

The last year that Matthew hunted,
he and I had a real successful hunt.

Biggest buck I'd seen
up to that point jumped up,

in a field across the road
from the buildings,

I was able to shoot the deer.

Biggest buck I'd shot up to that time.

And my dad says, "Boy, that's a really
good buck, Doug, congratulations."

And Matt says, "Yeah, but that had been
a nice buck next year."

[Doug] Matthew was a man of few words,
unlike the rest of the family.

And when he said that,
it stuck in my head.

And, when he died a couple months later,

it took on even more meaning.

Got a phone call from my father,

telling me that Matt had been
in a terrible accident,

and... didn't expect him to live.

We as a family,

decided we were going to figure out
a management strategy for the farm,

to honor his legacy

and our family's legacy.

And in those years we just,
through our NBNY,

"Nice Buck Next Year" idea,

we kept getting bigger and bigger deer.

That's the tree that we came to see.

It has since died, seven years ago,

from Dutch Elm Disease,
that they all eventually succumb to.

Ten years ago, the biggest deer
that's ever been shot on this farm

and really the biggest deer
that's ever been seen on this farm

was shot from here.

We named that deer after I killed it.

Uh, we called it The Standard
By Which All Others Will Be Judged.

When I saw this deer,

it was about 12 years after Matthew died.

I'm in the stand for ten,
twelve minutes.

And I hear this... [grunts]
Down in the, on the edge of the swamp.

Biggest deer I ever saw.
That was the deer.

I knew instantly when I saw it
that that was the deer.

He walks up within about
25 or 30 yards of that stand

and I put the crosshairs on his chest
and pulled the trigger.

It was instantly dead, it absorbed
all the energy of that bullet.

After I shot it, it was just
this moment of...

thinking about my brother,
his ideas about, "Let's manage."

I was overwhelmed by it, quite honestly.

That's the story of The Standard.

You want to call it a trophy,
I call it remembrance of a hunt.

[wind howling]

[Steve] In the earliest years
of the 20th century,

the Arctic explorer,
Vilhjalmur Stefansson,

was still out making initial contacts
with groups of Inuit hunters

in the Canadian high Arctic.

And he describes these hunters'
practice of bringing home

the heads of bears, in order to place
their head in their home or lodge

so that the bear would be able to observe
the hunter and his family.

The thinking being that the bear would,
in some mystical afterlife,

explain to other bears, that if you're
going to get killed by someone,

this guy is a good choice.

Because he's an honorable man.

Now, I decorate my home
with all kinds of hides and skulls

from the animals
that I've hunted and eaten.

And it does occur to me at times to ask,

"If they are looking out on me,
what do they see?"

At the end of the 19th century,
there is a pretty influential historian

by the name of Frederick Jackson Turner.

Um, and he famously decrees that,
"The frontier is closed."

In essence, what he meant
was that white settlement

had expanded across the continent.

And he was concerned
about what this might hold,

as were many others,
for the future of the country.

Many Americans at the turn of the century
believed that America's unique character

stemmed from the process of frontiering,

stemmed from engagement with wilderness

and fighting against indigenous peoples,

and sort of,
the conquest of the continent.

Among a certain subset,

particularly urban men,

hunting embodied a certain
rugged individualism

that they associate
with the national character.

There have also always been
subsistence hunters,

who hunted for utilitarian reasons,
out of necessity.

But the emergence of the sport hunter

as an iconic American figure
is something new.

[male reporter] The victory flash
electrified Times Square,

keyed to the bursting point

as the magic word
of complete surrender came through.

[Randall] The end of World War II

is a hugely significant moment
in the history of hunting.

As millions of American men
are returning home from tours of duty,

sport hunting experiences
a surge in popularity.

They take to the field in record numbers,

many of them for the first time
in their lives.

As the editor of Outdoor Life put it,

"You can't expose millions of young men
to the joys of living outdoors

and using firearms,
and not make hunters out of them."

The number of hunters
skyrockets in the 1940s

from about eight million to 13 million.

And that means that roughly
one in four American men...

were hunters.

[Steve] One of many things
I love about hunting

is that it pushes me to go to places
I would otherwise have no business going.

It melds wanderlust and pragmatism.

I respect a mountaineer
who goes up a mountain

and comes down with nothing tangible,

but I'm drawn to the kind of climbing

that has you coming back down
with a load of meat on your shoulders.

In anthropology, there is an idea
that I was both of those things equally.

A curiosity about what's over
the next hill,

and a desire to eat it...

that accounts for our species' stunningly
rapid colonization of the world.

The first Americans to pass through
Beringia and enter the Western Hemisphere

started hunting on this continent
some 20,000 years ago.

Euro-Americans have been hunting it
for 500 years.

I think of those earliest hunters often.

Would they be surprised that the subject
of ethics has become so intertwined

with all of our conversations
around hunting.

How could such an ancient,
ancestral practice be governed

by such contemporary notions
about morality and behavior?

It's not a small thing to take
an animal's life.

It's very intense. It's very emotional.

We're hunting sentient beings,

who suffer and who are highly complex,

who have moral status.

There's something that we have to consider
now that we're more enlightened,

the burden of morality,
the burden of being ethical.

[Ron] And when I first see

the deer that I'm going to shoot,

my concentration is on getting

to where I'm going to have
a steady, clear, concise shot,

so that that animal does not suffer.

And that's all that's going
through my mind.

[Joe] It might not work out,

you might not see the animal,
you might not get close enough,

you might get winded. You might even miss.

But, did you do your best to make sure
that none of those things happened?

And if you don't, you feel terrible.

[Jones] The fact that
hunters themselves acknowledge

that there should be a sportsmanlike way

to dispatch, say a deer,

that speaks to the fact that they believe

that there is a moral and ethical
aspect dimension to that act.

Animal ethics, in a nutshell,
is to have more people recognize

that you're dealing with moral beings,
not just objects.

Human beings were always thought to be...

superior, not only intellectually

and physiologically in certain ways,
but morally.

This is a view known
as "human exceptionalism."

And that claim starts to be challenged.

The question in animal ethics, it's,
what makes all human beings

morally superior
to every animal on the planet?

Why is it this way,
and should it be that way?

And that's a tough question to answer.

[Doug] The actual killing of an animal,

the finality of it is... hard to describe.

But you've done something
that you can't undo.

[Steve] What does go on
between a hunter and his prey?

[imitating deer call]

The biologist E. O. Wilson
popularized the term "biophilia."

The idea that humans have
an innate desire to connect with nature

and other forms of life.

Hunting can bring about
an extreme form of that,

let's say "bio obsession,"

where the continued study and pursuit
of animals brings about in the hunter

feelings of deep admiration,

a desire to emulate,

and, yeah, something akin to love
for the animals that they hunt.

When else do you sit down with your...

pair of binoculars
glued to your face and just look

at the landscape,
and look at animals for hours at a time?

It kind of forces you to learn so much.
I've never learned so much

about a single species of animal as I did
when I started hunting white-tail.

Judging bears, you know what to look for,

the size of their head, you know, the size
of their ears compared to their body.

Sources of food that I've seen
the squirrels eat,

uh, of course,
we've got the hickory nuts in our areas,

uh, all the acorns.

If you're going to become
a successful hunter,

you have to learn everything
about that animal.

Let's call it
the psychology of a... a deer.

Beech trees, you know,
they love hitting those things.

Watching animals interact with each other,

watching animals interact
with the landscape.

Dogwood berries. They like eating those.

You understand them, then you understand
where they're gonna be at certain times.

I've never seen anything eat a gumball.

This deer call here...

used to be my favorite one.

And it would call in bucks...

uh, at a pretty good rate.

I mean, they'll come charging in,

usually with a full erection.

And, uh, they're there for one thing.

[deer call whistling]

[imitating deer scream]

[imitating deer grunts]

[deer call whistling]

Nope, it's not there.

[imitating deer grunt]

[high-pitched deer call]

[dog barks]

That one does it, but that there
is a little bit too high-pitched one.

[Rorke Denver] That interplay
between loving the game

you're pursuing, and killing
the game you're pursuing

and taking that life,
I feel lucky to wrestle with those issues.

I mean, I think, uh,
there isn't a single animal

I'm gonna go after that I don't
have tremendous respect and love for

and really enjoy looking at as much
as I want to go hunt.

It's, uh... I think it is a connection
to the natural world

that very few people get.

I mean, I actually think
being a hunter falls much more in line

with the way we developed,

you know, genetically, culturally,

than not being a hunter.

I mean, if our forefathers weren't
probably, you know, whacking a critter

with a rock and a stone and figured out
a way to cook it and eat it,

we're probably not sitting here.

So I... I think there's a very primal part
of hunting that seems 100% natural to me.

[Jones] Some people would say,
"Well, if it's natural,

that's a justification enough
that we should do it."

So the "should" just comes
from the fact that it's natural.

Look, I'm a vegan, but I can't say
that there aren't times

when I think bacon smells really good,

and I smell it, I'm like, "Damn,
I could go for some of that bacon."

Now, I'm denying myself. You could say,
"You're not doing what's natural."

But I could say, I know
I'm not doing what's "natural,"

but that's because I'm a moral being,
and that's what moral beings do.

We don't always follow through
on our instincts.

That's what makes you moral.

[Steve] Could it be true
that our canine teeth

and our forward-facing predator eyes
are really just relics?

Just vestigial traits?

Like our wisdom teeth and tail bones.

If so, the transition feels incomplete.

At least inside of me,
and inside of many others.

There's a psychological piece
to being in the woods, pursuing my food.

Civilization does us the favor
of removing us

from so many unpleasant
and unsightly processes.

All of the tasks of life.

It allows us to lead cleaner,
more sterile,

more sedentary lives of our choosing.

But we do carry the physical
specialized tools of hunters.

We're built for it.

That might make you uncomfortable
to think about,

but it warrants being reckoned with.

[Matt] Hunting colors everything I am.

I wouldn't live in the middle of nowhere

with a corgi and pack lamas if I...

If I didn't hunt.

[bleats]

I started getting some sciatic
nerve pain in my left leg.

When I found out that the sciatic nerve
pain was an extension of back problems,

I knew immediately that it was
from carrying heavy packs of meat.

So I just knew then that,

if I was gonna keep doing the thing

that I loved for decades to come,

I was going to have to do
something differently.

So I started getting pack llamas.

So I could keep hunting,
and they would carry my stuff.

Trying to desensitize her head...
His head a little bit.

Both these guys' heads a little bit.

Good boy. Good boy.

So with this training,
desensitization is a big part of it.

The way you're trying
to get them to do what you want

is every time they do what you want...

Like he's standing still right now,
he's not running away,

which, the first few times I did this,
that would make him run away.

They do not like to have
their feet handled.

So then, you reward them by walking away.

You take the pressure off of them.

Like this, this is just from a few
training sessions that I can do this.

They're very protective of their feet.

[chuckles] Go on, buddy.
Give him a kick on the butt.

God, these are nothing like your old ones.

Oh, this guy's way better
than the old ones.

-[Steve] Oh, is he?
-Not Haigee,

but he's way better than Timee.

It's just what... Steve, you wouldn't
believe this guy on the trail.

He's fantastic,
it's just around the barnyard.

I... I have a very deep love

for the places that I hunt,

and... it sometimes gets
mixed up with fear.

I mean, some of these places
are way back in there,

and they're kind of spooky!

I spend a lot
of my bow-hunting time alone,

which is often not fun.

It can be boring and grueling.

But it requires a level of dedication.

For me, personally, when I get
an elk with my bow,

that's a major accomplishment,

and I'm going to probably not remember

the squirrels I shot two years from now,

but I'll remember every single elk
I've ever gotten with my bow.

There's been many hunts
where I've been on,

where I've fought the desire...

to go home every hour,

every day, for days,

and then... filled my tag.

In a way, I feel like...

I'm stuck being a hunter.
I don't have any choice.

I can't... I can't help it.

I have to, uh, hunt,

that's just what I do. That's what my...

That's what preoccupies my thoughts,

that's what I-- How I spend my spare time.

I'd be powerless to try
to make it go away.

If somebody took issue with me hunting,

my first question to them would be,

"Do you eat meat?"

Um...

Now, let's say that this is, a person that

doesn't like the fact that I hunt,
but they're vegetarian or vegan.

I don't know what to say to them.
I mean... they might have a point.

I do not think that vegans,
including myself,

are outside the web
of killing and suffering.

I do not think that I'm morally superior
because I'm a vegan.

If I eat, you know, a carrot,

there's probably
some sentient field animal

that died in the tilling of the soil,
so...

I have no illusions
about vegans or vegetarians

being morally pure or morally superior.

That's not my brand of veganism.
I want that clear.

What I am saying is that, um,

there seems to be plenty of ways
to deeply, and spiritually,

if you will, commune with nature
that don't involve...

the killing of a complex sentient being.

[Steve] When I was young, I first started
hearing the word, like "environmentalist."

I was kind of intimidated by it,

'cause I just thought
it automatically meant somehow

that you were against the things that
I liked, which is to hunt, fish, and trap.

Then later I learned that,
in the hunting world

or in the hunting community,
we have our own word for it,

we just call it "conservationism."

Like, a conservationist is,
is an environmentalist with a gun.

The conservation ethic came to me
out of a very selfish desire...

to not lose the things
that mattered a lot to me.

So I'm like, "So what would I need to do,

what is the best step to protect
this landscape where I like to hunt,

to protect my hunting grounds,

so that I can continue to enjoy it?"

That was the first step for me.

The second step was to all of a sudden
be like, "Okay, I like this spot,

and I might not ever go
to that one over there,

but I'm just going to extend my desire

to protect this place, and go like,

'Okay, I like that one
in the distance too,' you know.

And maybe I like something
in South America as well."

And I think I just very gradually,
sort of,

began to have a conservation ethic

that stands outside of selfishness.

But it took me a long, long time
to shed that idea,

that you can just take and take
with no regard to what's down the road.

[Robert Abernathy] If it's a perfect
morning, it is completely dead calm.

And you get to your listening spot.

[birds twittering]

Generally, the first thing
you hear is a cardinal,

and then the tufted titmice
are gonna start calling.

And then all the other birds join in.

And when the first crow calls,

and if all goes according to plan,
it'd be answered by a gobbler.

[gobbling]

And if a turkey sees movement,
and he'll look at it,

and he'll see movement
a second time and he's gone.

As soon as it came out of that egg,
every movement that it experienced,

it... it interpreted it
as something trying to kill it and eat it.

If you're good enough to kill a bird
every three or four or five hunts,

you're a pretty good turkey hunter.

We can't forget that we're not turkeys.

We are mammals,
so when we're looking at a turkey,

we're looking at him with mammal eyes.

When a turkey is looking at a turkey
or a turkey is looking at a decoy,

a turkey is looking with bird eyes,
with avian eyes.

My son came up with the idea,
"Well, you know, why don't you

just glue each feather on individually?"

"Well, that'll take too long,
that's crazy."

Well, then he did it.

And it doesn't... It's like everything,
it doesn't work every time.

But it... it works enough.

I did not grow up hunting turkeys.

We had no turkeys anywhere around
and I remember the first turkey I saw,

which I was in high school.

And it was... It was crazy,
I mean, I couldn't believe it.

I could not believe
I had seen a turkey.

By the time I was born, in the mid-'50s,

North Carolina only had turkeys
in the most remote parts.

The turkey population
started crashing in the 1800s

as soon as the settlements started.
I mean,

these were a large bird
that were good to eat,

and people killed them and ate 'em,

and they killed them
and sold 'em to the market.

And they disappeared
from most of the United States.

But it's not that way anymore.

Historically in the '20s,
and '30s, and '40s,

we believed that you could
take a wild turkey, um, hen,

and take the eggs, raise them up
into young turkeys

and go out and turn them to the woods.

And that, well, that went on for decades.

It was a... It was a massive failure
and just did not work.

And the restoration
really didn't get started

until we figured out
how to trap them and how to move them.

We started using rocket nets
to capture the birds.

And it was hunters that funded
the whole thing.

It was an army of biologists

and technicians, and hunters
all over this country

that contributed the money
and trapped the birds,

and did that habitat management
that allowed the birds to come back.

Now wild turkeys are found
in all 49 states...

they're not in Alaska,

and throughout southern Canada
and down into Mexico.

You know, the question is,
did I do the restoration

in order to be able to hunt turkeys
all over the country?

And maybe a part of me did.

But we get that question a lot,

uh, "Well, you only wanted to turn those
turkeys loose so you can shoot them."

And it's like,
that doesn't even come close

to the experiences
and the people I've met,

and the guys that might raise money

and work for years

to try to get a... a wild turkey,

or elk, or white-tail deer,
or mule deer, or a pronghorn...

restored to a habitat.

I just don't see that level of commitment

with any other wide group of people,

um, other than hunters.

[birds chirping]

[Jim] These wild animals
have a social and cultural value

because of what they represent.

They represent a social, cultural
commitment to their existence,

and the fact that we have worked
so that they can coexist

with a civilized society...

and still remain wild.
And that has given them a value.

The European method of wildlife management

attached wildlife
to privilege or property.

You could get hung
for killing the King's deer.

One particular code in England

was that, uh, if you should take
so much as a hair,

you shall have your eyes torn out.

By virtue of the Declaration
of Independence,

where the people became the sovereign,

those rights and privileges
that belong to the... the royalty,

passed to the people,
and they would be held in trust

for the people, by the States.

The irony is that before and after
our decision about who owned the wildlife

of this country,
we were systematically eliminating it.

Louis and Clark came up here
in 1805 and 1806,

they described that wildlife resource,
as a resource

that exceeded anything the eye
of man had ever looked upon.

Just a sheer abundance of wildlife that
was out on the Great Plains at that time.

Eight decades later,
it had fallen to zero.

We had become the wildlife
boneyard of a continent.

Throughout history, there have been people

who have hunted for utilitarian reasons,

or for, uh, commercial purposes.

So, the United States had market hunters.

Market hunters were individuals
in the 19th century

who would go out and kill wild animals...

to sell their meat or hides
to markets in the east.

[Jim] In 1876, Fort Benton
shipped 80,000 buffalo hides

down the Missouri River.

And that's kind of a centennial milepost,

at least out in the west where we were,

a sort of, uh,
at maximum killing capacity,

not only of the buffalo,
but of all wildlife.

Theodore Roosevelt,
he has an intense interest in nature

and this passion to go hunting,

and he comes to the west to get to a bison
before they were gone.

He hires a guy named Joe Ferris,

they hunt for seven days...

and he shoots a lone wandering bull.

And he is so excited

that he does a war dance
around the fallen bull,

and then he gives his guide
a hundred dollars.

In '85, he had published Hunting Trips
of a Ranchman & The Wilderness Hunter,

and he left a passage in there
of a rancher

that he had talked to,
who had made a journey

of a thousand miles in northern Montana.

To use the ranchman's own words,

"I was never out of sight
of a dead buffalo,

and never in sight of a live one."

Roosevelt shoots a second buffalo,

and his reaction to it
is no longer the dance.

His commentary about killing
that buffalo is a reflection

on this nearly gone and vanished species.

This noble beast.

And he has a conservation epiphany.

And that was a pretty important event.

Theodore Roosevelt gets shunted
into the Vice Presidency in 1900

as a candidate on the McKinley ticket,

and then McKinley gets shot.

And all of a sudden,
Theodore Roosevelt is the president.

The National Republican Party boss said,

"I told William McKinley it was a mistake

to nominate that wild man.

Now look, that damn cowboy
is President of the United States."

His first message to Congress
was on conservation.

He adds 140 million acres
into the national forest system,

and in that process,
western district congressmen

from six western states panic.

They put a rider
on an Ag Appropriations Bill

to prohibit him from setting aside
any more national forests.

He has seven days to sign
or veto that bill.

In those seven days, he adds
16 million acres to the forest system,

creates 21 new national forests,

signs the executive orders
creating those public states,

and then he signs the bill
forbidding him from ever doing it again.

That's leadership.

One generation later,

we have the great economic depression,

the drought, and the Dust Bowl.

In the depth of that despair,

we have Franklin Roosevelt, now President,

and he calls the very first
North American wildlife conference.

This is what he told the hunters
and the fishermen.

He says, "Look, people,
if you want these resources,

you're gonna have to do it."

And the wildlife conservation ethic...

begins to take root.

They put through Congress

the Pittman-Robertson
Wildlife Restoration Act.

And it's been fueling wildlife restoration

for 80 years.

The hunters that rose up

in the wake of the market shooters,

rose up with a conservation ethic
because it was essential.

We wouldn't have hunting
if that hadn't happened.

[Martin] I mean,
I think it's worth considering

that many of the animals
that we see all the time

used to be really rare.

You know, if you go to places

where those species don't have
that cultural or economic value,

um, over time, they get crowded out.

They're not there anymore.

Uh, it... it happens all over the world.

And it's not that way
in the United States.

We have, not only public wildlife
through the North American model,

but public lands.

Hunters pay for that conservation.

The picture of hunting revenue in the US
is on a both state and federal level.

On the state side, you've got
the sale hunting licenses tags

and stamps as the primary source of
revenue for fish in wildlife commissions,

and that's to the tune of about a billion
dollars annually across the country.

That is only paid for
by people who are hunting.

On the federal side, you've got stemming
from the Pittman-Robertson Act,

uh, a federal excise tax
on hunting equipment.

So it only hits people who are buying
hunting equipment,

and that money gets put
in the federal fund.

And that fund is then distributed
to the States,

but only if they meet
certain requirements, right?

And the first requirement is that
all the money that the state's generated

via the sales of hunting licenses,
tags and stamps,

has to be spent by
that actual Fish and Wildlife Commission.

It can't get diluted across the budget,
it has to stay for fish and wildlife.

And this is a cool part too,
is if that money is, for whatever reason,

not spent within two years,

it gets reallocated
to the Migratory Bird Conservation Act.

In a holistic sense,
it's a really, really tight structure.

It's an example
of pretty effective regulation

and it's cool to see the mechanics
of how it all works.

[birds cooing]

[Steve] I hunt many things in many places,

but I feel best and most fulfilled
hunting in places

where it's physically difficult
and a bit hazardous.

I enjoy moving through nasty country.

I like the climb.
I don't mind suffering the cold.

I like being in places where I have
to struggle against obstacles.

I could get a deer other places
and in easier ways,

but intentionally handicapping
our endeavors

is one of those peculiar hallmarks
of our species.

In hunting, we refer to this system
of handicapping as "fair chase."

Now, it's a slippery concept
in that it's hard to define

in a way that everyone
is going to agree on.

But it has to do with evening
the playing field

between predator and prey.

Diminishing, sometimes greatly,
the certainty of the hunter's success.

Many of these handicaps
are codified by law.

Weapons that can and cannot be used,

hours of the day
that are allowable for hunting.

Restriction on age classes
and gender of animals

that can be harvested.

But many hunters go it one better,

and add layers of personal prohibitions.

Weapons they could use, but don't.

Age classes of animals
they could kill, but won't.

Much of it is subjective.
It's deeply personal.

Hunting plays out in your head
as much as it does out on the land.

Your version of it
needs to leave you feeling right.

It needs to leave you feeling good
about what you've done.

All hunters need to find
that line for themselves.

[gunshot]

[gun clicks]

The first time I killed a deer, I was 13.

I got one with a rifle
in Michigan where I grew up.

It was so close,
I was like I couldn't miss.

I was held right where
I could see on it. Bam.

I got it and I ran over there,

and I was kind of surprised to see
the deer hadn't died yet, you know.

And... and now looking back on it,
you just, very quickly shoot it again,

but I was young and inexperienced.

And I didn't know, and I... And I...

jumped in there
and I killed the deer with a knife.

And, like, looking at it, I mean, like,
yeah, it was kind of like, a violent act.

And... and I recognize that
there is a violence to hunting.

It is different than
a human-on-human violence,

but there is a violence to it.

But, I think that
it's a funny little exercise

to act as though you can be alive today...

and be a breathing, living, eating person

who's dining in restaurants
and going to the grocery store,

and to somehow feel as though
you've escaped the cycle of violence

that drives all existence,
and that drives nature.

[Ron] Whenever I kill a deer,

I always have that, um...

degree of sorrow for the animal.

For the kill.

I don't feel guilty about it,

but you feel sorry for the animal

in taking him out of life...
for your benefit.

And I don't think I'll ever get over that.

I think it's what
every hunter should have.

Those emotions should be listened to

because they... they... They represent
the better parts of our nature.

The feelings of empathy and sympathy,

the feelings of having ended
an animal's life.

And I think the question then to ask is,

"Was it necessary what I just did?
Did I have to do that? Is that...

What is... What is...

What is my heart telling me
about what just transpired?"

[Danny] We're human beings
and we're of this earth,

and we've been hunting animals
for thousands of years

and to think that, that no longer applies

just because we have technology that
allows us to not necessarily hunt anymore,

um, seems kind of ridiculous to me.

[Steve] Why do some people respect

every predator but themselves?

Think of an owl perched up in a tree...

watching for a rabbit

that it's going to pounce on and kill.

It does not occur to the owl
to ask, "Do I belong here?

Do I have the right
to eat this rabbit and live?"

It just is one with the natural world.

It's impossible to untangle it,
as a creature,

from its impending actions.

And I admire that owl.

How good, to be so unapologetic

about what sharp talons.

[cutting skin]

[bone cracking]

Legally and morally, the animal,
the instant it dies,

it's my property, and I have
an obligation to the animal

to, um, get it skinned,
get it cooled down, keep it clean...

and start the long arduous task
of getting all that meat home.

I'm going to take an animal,
I'm going to utilize everything.

Everything.

We don't let anything go to waste.

Whatever we can utilize, we utilize.

I don't buy meat, I just eat game meat,

so, uh, that is something
that I value very highly.

If you're going to take an animal's life,

if you're going to consume meat
as part of your diet,

you have a responsibility to use

every last bit of that animal
that you can.

[Jones] If someone chooses to be a hunter,

and that person decides to say,

"Honor or respect the prey...

by using all the parts of it and doing it
in this kind of honorific manner,"

does that make a difference,

uh, morally or ethically?

It doesn't make a difference
to the animal.

The animal is dead.

The animal is not gonna say,
"Hey, thanks for shooting me

and really caring and respecting me.

That's better than
you doing it maliciously and not caring."

The animal's dead.

[Steve] Most of the hunters
that I've known in my life,

and I have known a great many,

struggle in some way with the violence.

But we're the rare few, really,

who are willing to reckon
face-to-face with the fact

that our lives cause death.

As a hunter, you do strive
for humane slaughter.

Which might not happen every time,
but the intention is there.

And the animal lives in the purity
of the natural world.

Uncorrupted by domestication
and confinement,

until it passes into the phase

of becoming food for me and my family.

Who eats more purely than that?

This is just purely personal opinion.

I can't back this up with anything.

But I think that a lot of people...

feel in their heart, right...

They want to be a hunter.

They feel that need to be a hunter.

But, they've been told that they can't be,

or they've been told that it's wrong.

And what they're looking for
when they hear about food

and this idea of like, humane slaughter,

sustainable resources, organic.

I think that what they're doing
is they're finding a way in.

So they know they want to go but they
haven't been able to justify the leap.

And they're trying to find emotionally
a way to put a foot into that place.

And they are just begging for a way in.

I don't know how many
are gonna actually make the leap.

But I feel that right now,
for some reason,

a lot of people are wondering

what's been taken from them.

And how they might get
some semblance of it back.

The writer, Tom McGuane
has an essay about hunting

in which he recounts a conversation

where someone takes a hunter
to task by asking him,

"Why do you have to go and kill deer?

Why do deer have to die for you?

Would you die for deer?"

The hunter replies, "If it came to that."

The conversation illustrates
that central paradox.

You love animals,
but then you kill some of them.

When wrestling with it,
I believe it's important to remember

that many of our most
influential conservationists

had a love of hunting

that inspired in them a desire
to save the land and restore wildlife.

My hope is that hunting
will continue to do this,

to inspire in people
a sense of active ownership,

active stewardship for the land

many generations into the future.

[Jim] Those early hunters
talked about the generations

within the womb of time.

To the extent that,

each generation has
a responsibility to the future.

And I'm going to sneak in
another personal story now.

Hearing about the national forest,
I walk there from my house.

I see three hunters
coming up that trail...

and it looks to be a father
and two young sons.

And they're like poster children
out of hunter education,

control of the gun, blaze orange,
serious expressions.

And the father tiptoes up to me
and whispers,

"We don't want to get ahead of you."

Deference to this old guy
sitting by the trail.

And I said to the father,
"I think I know...

what you're doing,
and I want you ahead of me."

And so, I gave him the high sign
and the kids' face lit up

in the pre-dawn darkness
with a bright smile,

and I watched them go up the ridge.

And then I thought...

"Here was three generations
of people meeting in the national forest,

enjoying the beauty of living,
and the joy of life."

I put my head in my hands and I wept,

because of what that meant.

[instrumental music playing]

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