Thanksgiving Day Thoughts

A long-standing tradition among many Native Americans, and European cultures as well, is that when we are hunting, the animal we are supposed to take will offer themselves to us. This concept is explored at some depth in a new book, “From Boys to Men of Heart; Hunting as Rite of Passage,” by Randall L Eaton, a behavioral scientist who has studied hunting for many years (I’ll have more about the book in an upcoming book review column).

Perhaps this notion may strike some of us as primitive to us 21st Century people. On the other hand, after many years of hunting, I would be hard-pressed to dispute the notion, especially when we take a closer look at big game hunting. Regular readers of this column have, no doubt, figured out that my preferred way of hunting is with a shotgun, following a dog across the prairies or mountainsides. Yet on those occasions when I do carry a rifle in search of deer or elk, it’s amazing how often, when I look back over the seasons, the animals I’ve taken have, seemingly, offered themselves.
For example, how else can I explain the big whitetail buck that stood in front of me at the opening minute of the 1983 North Dakota deer season? How else can I explain the few elk I’ve taken that stood patiently out in the open while I fumbled around and got in a position to shoot? Or this month, the whitetail deer that stood still in the middle of a field while I found a fencepost on which to get a solid rest? There is a mystical, but real, connection.

Whether we accept this concept or not, I’m sure many would accept that there is a special bond between us and the animals we hunt. The animals provide food for us and our families. In return, we have the obligation to give thanks for the gifts of life, and, in return, nurture a healthy environment for wildlife.

This week we celebrate the holiday of Thanksgiving. It’s part of an ancient tradition among many cultures to give thanks for a bountiful harvest. We also look back, in this country, to the Pilgrims of Plymouth Colony, the survivors of a long voyage across the Atlantic Ocean, who suffered from scurvy, malnutrition, and frostbite in their struggles to make a life for themselves in this new world. Without the help of friendly Indians, who themselves had recently lost many people to disease, there may have been far fewer survivors who gathered with their Indian neighbors for that first American Thanksgiving dinner. While they gave thanks for a good harvest, the wild turkey, deer, fish and lobsters on their tables likely meant more to their survival than the meager crops they harvested that first year.

Many things have changed since those long-ago Thanksgiving holidays when, as a child, I did go over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house for Thanksgiving. For one thing, we’re now the grandparents. In some recent years we’ve been traveling at Thanksgiving, but this week all of our immediate family will be gathering here in Montana.

In addition to our grown children and their spouses, we’ll have grandchildren and pets. A special guest will be Candy, the black Lab who was my hunting partner for many years until she took an early medical retirement and moved to California. She’s nearing the end of her life, now, and seeing her for likely the last time will add a bittersweet note to this family reunion.

Yet, life goes on, and another special guest will be a chubby little chocolate Lab puppy, coming from a farm in North Dakota to Montana in the first leg of her long trip to a new home in California.

Yes, it will be a special Thanksgiving celebration at our house.

And as we celebrate the gifts of family, we’ll also celebrate the many gifts of a generous Creator, and may we never forget that millennia-old bond between us and the animals that provide the food we put on the table.