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This thought occurred to me last season as I arrived at my favorite public land spot in North Central Indiana. Upon walking in, I approached the property manager only to be met with a shake of his head and the words, "We're full today." It struck me as odd; this property is nestled in the middle of nowhere and seldom sees over 100 deer hunters in a single day. Disappointed, I packed up and ventured off to another property I had never explored for hunting.
As I made my way, I couldn't help but ponder the predicament of those who lack the means to fully engage in outdoor activities. Our society bombards us with advertisements for the latest and greatest outdoor gear, and even on outdoor shows, the focus seems to be solely on securing leases for trophy animals. Does my frustration come across as if I have an axe to grind? Perhaps it does, and truth be told, I do!
While staring at my dad's vintage 1980s Woolrich Red Plaid hunting suit, it dawned on me that until the late '80s, such suits—or similar attire—were the standard for outdoor enthusiasts. Despite the simplicity of the attire, people still embraced the outdoors and found success. Have we progressed to lighter, warmer clothing options since then? Undoubtedly. And is that progress a significant advancement? Absolutely! However, it's worth noting that not all advancements come without drawbacks.
We've veered away from recognizing the significance of the outdoor experience. When you delve into the works of authors like Ruark or Hemingway, it becomes evident just how far we've drifted. The contradictory aspect of these two is that, by today's standards, they would be labeled as "trophy hunters." However, they emphasized the experience itself rather than just the harvest. Until we shift our focus back to cherishing the experience and begin sharing those stories, we'll continue on this path toward obscurity.