I come from a long line of hunters. If you think about it, we all do. However, less and less people are hunters, especially since grocery stores provide almost everyone with the food they need. Plus, there's been a rise in anti-hunting and radical veganism, especially after Cecil the lion was killed a few years back. However, some people, such as myself, need more than just farm-raised meats and locally grown crops. My body needs something a little more wild and free. 

My grandpa Bob was a lifetime member of the local sportsman's club in Zumbro Falls, Minnesota. Before his aneurysm, grandpa went hunting every season he could. He went after deer, turkeys, geese, and pheasants, which are all animals that lived on and around the farm. After his aneurysm, grandpa made my uncle Wes do most of the hunting. The whole family still craved wild game, so Wes went out and became a master at hunting. My uncle Wade went hunting sometimes, and my dad went pheasant hunting a few seasons, but nothing like what Wes did. 

Meanwhile, on my mom's side of the family, my great-uncle-in-law AKA uncle Courtney, was a game warden for over 25 years. He knows the best places to hunt because of his experience, and taught his son, Sean, how to hunt. Sean can talk to pretty much any animal, and coax it into range. One time, Sean called in six bull elk at once, and my uncle Courtney took the easiest and most ethical one. The antlers from that bull are mounted on my wall, and I proudly use it as a hat rack. 

Courtney's cousin had a dangerously close call while elk hunting in the Rockies, many decades ago. While he was walking, he heard a tremendous roar, and saw a huge black bear spring out of the trees towards him. He had only one bullet in the chamber to protect himself. That bear skidded and died right at his feet. He still has its hide in his living room.

I have many, many more hunting stories from family and friends I've met. But, what about myself? I'm a hunter too, only, I don't hunt just because I want to. I don't hunt just to help out with the conservation and management of wildlife by taking the role of the apex predator. I don't hunt just because it's a family tradition. I hunt because my health depends on it. I live to hunt, and I hunt to live.

Cystic Fibrosis is a nasty disease, and my pancreas is basically ruined. My pancreas can still produce insulin by some miracle, but I've never been able to create digestive enzymes. I'm not allergic to anything, but my diet is very restrictive. I must have 7,000 calories a day, which is about as much as a fully grown lion eats on an average day, but I can't get that from sugar, carbs, dairy, or things like bacon unless I want to spend the next day curled up in a ball. I must get those 7,000 calories a day through something else, which comes in huge meals of rare red meat, even rarer wild game, and two bowls of fruits and veggies of my choice. I eat as much as a lion, so why not adopt his diet as well? 

Wild game and organic red meat are super lean, so the fat doesn't bother me. Much of the meat I eat is also wild and locally pasture raised, so I avoid the added preservatives and antibiotics found in most factory farmed meats. Those added things mess with me pretty good. Part of me thinks I've lost my tolerance for it because I eat so well, but another part of me thinks it reacts to one of the 20 medications I take, since a few of those meds are reactive to many common antibiotics and over-the-counter pills. 

I've only been hunting for a couple years, but I've been raised to love the sport. My uncle Courtney made sure to pound hunting safety into me as soon as I could understand what a gun was. He shared stories and meat from his hunts, and gifted me a few racks of antlers over the years. When I was seven, he started teaching me how to shoot using BB guns and rubber-tipped arrows. He started showing me how he packed his horses, and how he cut and cooked the meats. When I was old enough to understand how nature worked, he started teaching me the importance of conservation, and why hunting's needed for healthy wildlife. He started teaching me about poachers and what they are capable of. He started sharing stories from his years of being a game warden, and showing off all the taxidermy he's confiscated from poachers. Poachers are not hunters. Poachers don't follow rules and seasons, and more often than not, they just kill to kill, or at the very most, to only take the antlers.

When I was around 13 or 14, Courtney and a few friends started teaching me how to shoot real guns. My mom's friends from church taught me how to shoot handguns for the first time, Courtney showed me how to load and shoot many different rifles, and my old friend Doug gave me a 22. rifle and all the wild game he hunted before he passed away. I still think about Doug every time I shoot a gun and go hunting, and grandpa has crossed my mind a lot too, especially when I was shooting at blackbirds with a crappy 22. rifle at Wes's, the night and morning before the Wake. (expand and/or take out)