The Nature of the Beast
  By: Pieter Stofberg, Professional Hunter

All through history it has been the same. In times of plenty, the hunter is reviled and relegated to second class status. This is the time of the non-producer, the time of the so-called “little people’. His only weapon is words, he cannot do anything. So he attacks all those that fed him when he could not do it himself. Then, when the poo-poo hits the fan, and there is crap all over the ceiling, he screams that it is the “duty” of those who can to feed and protect him. Thank you, Ayn Rand.

It is the same for the military, the police, etc. All of those who are willing, and able, to step into the breach when the talkers are through.

So who is he, this hunter? Is he a “killer”, as so many make him out to be? Is he irresponsible, hard of heart, downright DANGEROUS? I don’t think so. Witness people like Selous, Rooseveldt, etc. Witness programmes like Sportsmen Against Hunger, SafariCare and so many others. 

Maybe it is time that someone told the hunter, soldier, policeman, etc. that he need not heed the talkers. Our time will come.  It is inevitable, and history bears me out, the talkers ALWAYS screw up.

When I look into my own heart, I find there a love and respect for the animals I hunt. I find an extremely strong urge to protect them and to ensure that they are treated as fairly as I want to be treated myself. I want space for them. I want them to be around when I am old and decrepit. And I will do everything I can, including killing some of them, to ensure that this comes about.

Recently, a client of mine killed a Gemsbok and, when he got to the animal, he had tears in is eyes. When I asked him why, he summed it up as follows:

I felt the sadness of the hunter. No one, who has not experienced the excitement of a stalk, noticed the heightening of the senses and felt the exhilaration of the buck going down, can understand this sadness. During the hunt you feel more alive, you notice the colors and the light and they all seem more vivid than when you are not hunting. When you reach the buck, the exhilaration is still there but it is tempered by the taking of this magnificent  animals life. Being with your buck, and thanking him, helps, but the exhilaration and the sadness exist side by side.

This is not the words of a killer. This is not the sentiment of an unfeeling person. Rather it is the language of someone who knows what needs doing, and has the strength to do it. And this strength will be there throughout his life. He is the person who does not hide when the unpleasant things has to be handled. He is the guy that steps forward when leadership is needed and crisis has to be handled. You see him often. Watch when someone gets hurt, he is the one that knows what to do. Watch when there is a fire, he is the one fighting it until the brigade arrives. Watch when there is some natural disaster, he is the one assisting people out of danger. He is the one DOING, while all the rest rush around screaming for help.

We have our “rotten apples”, of course. Not all who hunt are hunters! You will find the person who wants to shoot everything that moves. He is the one asking, when he sees a ground squirrel: “Can I shoot it?” And then he looks at you very strangely when you ask: “What for?”. He does not last long, though. Pretty soon he finds that he has nobody to go hunting with. This is the killer, this is the dangerous man. This is the guy we do not want. He is the one giving the talkers their ammunition.

All men are hunters, whether they want to know it or not. In Robert Ruark’s words: Deep in the guts of most men is buried the involuntary response to the hunters horn, a prickle of the nape hairs, an acceleration of the pulse, an atavistic memory of his fathers, who killed first with a stone, then with a bow, and then with a gun and finally, with formulae. How meek the man is of no importance, somewhere in the pigeon chest of the clerk is still the vestigial remnant of the hunters heart, somewhere in his nostrils the half-forgotten smell of blood. When the salesman targets a prospect, he is hunting. When the club member is out soliciting sponsorships, he is hunting. And when the greenest of the Greens is out stalking us, HE IS HUNTING! Man is, by nature, a hunter. For thousands of years, the talkers have been telling man that his nature is evil, that he has to fight everything that comes naturally. Then, when their world collapses around them, they appeal to that very nature to pull them out of their own mess. The soldier is a Neanderthall, until a war has to be fought. The policeman is a thug, until a riot has to be quelled. And the hunter is a killer, until the talker is hungry.

I want to say to all who has a true hunter’s heart: You are the ones who keep this world livable, you are the ones who produce the goods, you are the ones who will prevail. Fight anybody who tells you, you are evil. Fight all who tells you, you are outdated. Because our time WILL come, when the talkers are through, when those who can not has to turn to us WHO CAN! And we had better be around then, if we want a future for our children. Because if we are not, our children will have only what the talkers has brought about.

My name is Pieter and I am a hunter. AND I AM DAMNED PROUD OF IT!!!