Early in October, I had the opportunity to go hunting for pronghorn. Getting outside and away from most other people gave me some time to clear my mind and reset. Even though the weather was pretty shitty out on the exposed plains near the Wyoming/Colorado border, it didn't take away from the breathtaking beauty of the great plains. I didn't realize just how badly I missed life outside of the city until that opening weekend. I also failed to realize just how much the city life influenced my beliefs. I didn't see much beauty or experience much peace in the city or the suburbs, which led to me having a restless, pessimistic mind. But, out in the country, far away from the Denver metro area, everywhere I looked there was beauty, and for once in a very long time, I got to experience true peace and quiet.
During that day, I finally felt like I was in the presence of God Himself. I had left all my worries about my health, school, work, and family life at home. I was almost completely at peace, though I did get progressively more agitated as the weather got worse and dusk grew closer, since I still hadn't filled my tag. But, my hunting guides reminded me to remain optimistic throughout the day, and just to enjoy myself. Enjoy the scenery. Enjoy the isolation. Enjoy the fresh air. I rarely got to get as far away from civilization as I was that day, and my hunting guides and grandparents were certain I'd miss those wide open ranch lands almost as soon as I returned home. I knew they were right, so I took in a deep breath and slowed myself down the best I could.
However, there was something within me that made it nearly impossible for me to slow down. I hadn't eaten, but I was hardly very hungry. I hadn't had much to drink, but I wasn't dehydrated. I'd been moving around almost constantly, jogging up draws and charging across the flat, windy tops of plateaus, but I wasn't sore. I was running purely on instinct. It was almost like I'd hunted a thousand times before. I'm not quite sure how to explain it, other than it felt a little like deja vu, but so much more compelling. I don't recall having too many thoughts that day. At least, not much that I can remember. I was simply determined to hunt a pronghorn down, and every time I saw something that even remotely resembled my prey, a massive surge of adrenaline would rush through my veins. I was no longer a spectator of nature. I was literally a part of nature, doing something that humans had been doing long before they resembled humans.
If literal creationism was true, I doubt that connection with the wilderness and my animalistic instincts would be possible. After all, according to creationism, I am neither genetically related to other plants and animals or have the same instincts as other animals. God created everything as-is, and only allowed things to change very slightly. So, just because we looked a lot like many apes, didn't mean we were related to apes in any way, shape, or form. Same can be said for canines, equines, felines, bovines, and all other animals. While there can be genetic variations within a kind (such as within the canine kind that includes dogs, wolves, and foxes), nothing genetically connects a dog to a cat, or a cat to a human. At least, according to literal creationism.
Yet, my experiences as a hunter have strongly disputed those claims. I saw and experienced the natural world as a natural predator. I scoured the landscape for hours and hours, braving the elements, using all of my senses to locate my prey the best I could, all without a single conscious thought crossing my mind. I was in autopilot for basically the whole day I was out there. Looking back, that is certainly something that is very strange and nearly impossible to put into words. One just has to experience what I have in order to understand what I am trying to say.
The next morning, after an unsuccessful first day, we were already out on the hunt before the sun was up. It wasn't windy that morning, but it was freezing cold and the fog was very dense. Chances were, once the sun rose above the horizon, the dense mist would burn off. But, until then, we could not legally shoot an animal.
Thankfully, when the sun did rise, the mist began to burn away, revealing my prey right in front of us on the road. In fact, my hunting guide and I got out to chase after a large herd of pronghorn that came bolting across the road in our headlights. We had to throw ourselves under a barbed-wire fence, load my rifle, and then sprint over a ridge in order to find the pronghorn again. Unfortunately, I couldn't get a good shot once we were in position on the ridge overlooking a valley. The pronghorn were just moving too fast and far away, and the sage surrounding myself and my guide blocked my view through the scope.
But, we soon had another opportunity to sneak up on a smaller herd of lone does grazing right by the railroad tracks. We had to hike about a mile to get into position on a ridge overlooking the bowl the pronghorn were grazing in. Once we were settled with my rifle resting on a tripod while I knelt down to view the pronghorn through the scope, I finally had time to pick a pronghorn and shoot.
It was a surreal experience staring at living, breathing animals through a rifle scope. I'd hunted twice before, but that did not make me any more used to that jittery feeling called Buck Fever, or any more prepared to squeeze the trigger. However, I knew how to calm myself down enough to take the life of a pronghorn as quickly and ethically as possible. I did not want to ruin any meat, nor did I want to cause my prey to suffer. So, I took in several deep breaths as I waited for the right opportunity to pull the trigger. When that opportunity finally came, I squeezed the trigger and was severely disoriented for a few seconds immediately after a loud shot disrupted the silence on the plains.
My hunting guide and I cautiously approached the downed pronghorn about five minutes after I shot her. I'm not quite sure how to put into words what I felt. There was, of course, a feeling of great sadness, because death was involved. But, there was also a sense of relief. I finally did what I came to do. The tag was filled. My freezer would be full of delicious wild game for quite some time. On top of that, there was, of course, joy and excitement. I was excited because I knew I'd get lots of fresh meat off that pronghorn, and I could not wait to process my kill so I could eat it.
But, there was also another feeling I had. One that I really, really struggle to put into words. It felt as though God was right there with me. It felt as though He had provided that pronghorn just for me. Now, I don't mean that in a literal creationist sense. God did not create that pronghorn just to be turned into steaks and sirloins. But, it was as if He guided that animal throughout its life, so after its living purpose was fulfilled (after it had bred, grazed on and fertilized the land, stuff like that), then its final purpose could be fulfilled. That was to be brought down by a hunter and eaten. That hunter was me, but it could've easily been a hawk, coyote, or even a mountain cougar. But, I was the chosen hunter for that pronghorn. And for that, I was extremely grateful to God.
I gave my hunting guide the rifle and knelt down by the doe. She was large. In fact, I think she weighed just as much as I did, which was impressive for a pronghorn doe. When I removed my gloves and stroked her fur with my right hand (my left hand had a bunch of little cactus needles stuck in it, so I didn't use it if I didn't have to), she was still warm. Her warmth was a stark reminder that she had been alive just a few minutes before. She was a living, breathing, warm-blooded animal. Evolutionarily speaking, she wasn't much different than myself. Sure, I may not have hooves, horns, a long face, rectangular pupils, or fur (at least I hope I don't), but I am still a mammal with two eyes, two ears, a nose, two lungs, a heart, so on and so fourth.
That was very humbling to me. In fact, hunting in general has been very humbling to me ever since I started it, since hunting has forced me to tap into my more primitive, animalistic instincts that weren't otherwise known to me. Hunting has proven to myself, at least on an emotional level, that I'm fundamentally the same as every other animal on this earth. When I'm participating in nature, I'm just as successful as a lion or a wolf according to some very interesting statistics. Sure, I may use a firearm, a tool, to hunt, but so do crows, orangutans, chimps, bonobos, and shrikes, just to name a handful.
Hunting, at least to me, is the nail on the coffin of literal creationism. As a hunter, I have experienced, first hand, what it is like to rely completely on instinct just like all other animals. Now, I'm not sure how to put how it feels like to run completely on instinct into words, but I guess I could compare it to what happens when we touch a hot stove or see an oncoming car headed our way without slowing down. We don't think. We just react. Our hand automatically jumps off the hot surface of the stove before we even feel pain. We automatically start heading for the best escape to avoid getting run over by the oncoming car before we even realize what we are doing. That's what hunting does to me. It's purely instinctual. I'm sure most other hunters can relate to that.
Not only has hunting proven to me that humans are just another animal, at least biologically, because I was able to tap into those predatory instincts many people believe only belong to lions, bears, and wolves, but I've seen and studied the biology of other animals. Turkeys, pronghorn, elk, whitetails, squirrels, etc, etc, all have the same organs we do for the most part. Of course, there are minor variations. Unlike turkeys, we don't have gizzards. And, as far as I know, turkeys don't have gallbladders or appendixes like we do. But, turkeys still have lungs, a heart, a liver, a stomach, a pancreas, and intestines located in the same general areas as those same organs are located in our bodies, as well as in the bodies of pronghorn and wolves.
If evolution wasn't true, but literal creationism was, why are there so many similarities spanning across all different animals? Why is DNA so similar from one animal to the next? We share 99% of our DNA with chimps. We're so similar that it kind of makes me uncomfortable whenever I stare into the chimp exhibit at the zoo. Chimps interact with each other and the world around them very similarly to how we often do. Hell, they look a lot like us too! It's freaky how similar we are!
If literal creationism is true, why are there so many fossils that are very clearly separated in layers, that show how animals gradually went from these cute little trilobites to modern humans? You'd think that a global flood from 4,000 years ago would stir things up in the fossil record. But, scientists have yet to discover a trilobite fossil next to a tyrannosaurus skull, or in the same layer as an ancient horse skull. In fact, if anyone ever found a fossil belonging to one period of time in the same layer of a fossil belonging to another period of time (such as if someone discovered a trilobite was hanging out with a T-rex just before they both died), they'd literally rewrite natural history and everything we thought we knew about biology! Scientists would welcome them with open arms! After all, scientists quite literally pay each other to challenge and disprove each other's ideas, and the winners often end up being revered in the scientific community!
Yet, for some reason, not a single fossil has ever been found out of place. T-rex did not hang out with trilobites. And they certainly didn't hang out with humans, even though for some reason, an alarming number of people, grown adults in fact, firmly believe that Moses had a pet dinosaur. As cool as that would be, there is not a single shred of scientific evidence that shows that belief is even remotely close to being true!
