Braxton Taylor
Dawn in November: cold, dark, and wet. I know I’m going to get soaked, but I’m chomping at the bit to do what I love best—track whitetail bucks through an inch of fresh snow through the big woods of northwestern Montana. But let’s face it. Most normal people are still in bed, about to eat a breakfast they bought at a supermarket.
But have you asked yourself, why? What motivates us to put ourselves through uncomfortable conditions that most folks think are little crazy?
If you have wondered, you are not alone. In fact, back in 1978, the US Fish & Wildlife Service commissioned a social scientist, Steven Kellert, from Yale University to study what makes hunters tick.
After years of interviews and surveys, Kellert came up with three broad categories of hunters: utilitarian, dominionistic, and naturalistic. Nearly 50 years later, Kellert’s research is deeply influential for experts who study hunting.
But it seems to me that Kellert’s categories fall short.
I slipped a round into the chamber of my .308, checked the safety, and stepped into the woods. I gave a thought to my situation at home. Earlier this year, our freezer failed, and I had to throw out a spoiled elk quarter, some venison, and a couple bags of perch fillets. When it comes to the winter meat supply, I was starting at zero. So I am a meat hunter, no?
Kellert found that, at least in 1978, most hunters were motivated by the thing that motivated hunters since the dawn of time: Food. He called these hunters “utilitarian.”
In Kellert’s view, utilitarian hunters see hunting as a harvest, similar to slaughtering a hog or steer. If there weren’t at least a strong possibility of coming home with meat, the utilitarian hunter wouldn’t venture afield.
I slipped through the woods as quietly as I could. After a bit, I noticed movement to my left. Through the trees, my scope found the shoulder of a fork-horned whitetail buck. The crosshairs were steady, and my thumb was on the safety.
Here was my chance to make meat. Yet, I paused. Finally, I lowered my rifle and let the young buck walk. Making meat was not enough. I’m not entirely sure why I passed on that deer, perhaps just to extend my hunting season. But if the buck were a few years older, I would not have hesitated to pull the trigger.
So, was I motivated by a trophy? Antlers to share with friends and keep on my wall, perhaps to feed my own ego?
This leads to Kellert’s second category, the “dominionistic” hunter. This group, he found, weren’t much interested in nature or animals. They were also less interested in venison. They were more interested in physical challenge, camaraderie, and collecting and showing trophies.
Kellert found this was the second-largest category of hunter. I don’t know anyone who wants to be called “dominionistic” but…perhaps some of the description fits a part of me.
My route led me up a ridge and to an old logging road. There, fresh in the morning’s snow was a steady row of pugmarks. Fresh mountain lion tracks.
I felt my heartbeat race. I have seen a handful of mountain lions over the years, but it’s always a treat. I had no tag for the big cat, but this track became my focus. I was excited just for a chance to glimpse this elusive animal, to learn from the trail about how this predator made a living in this snowy forest.
Kellert had a label for hunters who groove on being in nature, who enjoy studying their surroundings, knowing their local ecosystem and taking part in the ancient process of being a predator. He called them “naturalistic” hunters. So, apparently, that label fits me as well. Some of the time, anyway.
Kellert determined, at least back in ’78, that about 48% of hunters were utilitarian, 16% were naturalistic, and 37% dominionistic.
It seems to me that the outdoor media tends to focus on the dominionistic hunter traits, with its focus on technology, weaponry, and trophies. After all, media is driven by advertising dollars. Hunters who want the latest technological edge or who want to share our success on social media are probably a more lucrative market share than folks who just want to efficiently put a doe in the freezer or who would rather be looking at tracks in the mud than images on a trail camera.
But I find myself chafing at the very idea of these categories. They seem to miss the complexity of what hunters are all about. I don’t know any hunter who doesn’t cherish the meat, who doesn’t enjoy the sound of birdsong or the colors of sunrise. Likewise, scratch even the most locavore pot-hunter, and you’ll find someone who might take pride in taking the buck of a lifetime. We are all multifaceted.
People also change over time. I was more interested in larger antlers when I was younger and had more to prove to myself. I was more interested in meat when I had a family to feed. I enjoy following mountain lion tracks today, even if it distracts me from my “goal.”
What motivates me? It’s hard even to put it into words, let alone categories. Perhaps it’s enough just to step into a snowy forest, cut a fresh track, and feel the joy of the hunt. What motivates me to hunt? ALL of it.
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