During the new year, it’s customary to have a list of resolutions that we hope will transform us in some way. The most popular is losing weight, especially since our belts began shrinking during the holidays. I’ve even heard rumors that there have been some that shed those gains and kept it off — of course, those are just rumors. While these efforts are enviable, other issues might need to be addressed. There’s one in particular that has begun to bother me: the competitiveness that seems to have entered hunting and fishing. I’m not referring to those looking to get their walleye limit or collect that trophy that they’ve been watching for the last year. Not even the guy that’s trying to one-up his buddy, even if it’s attached to a little side wager. I’m also not addressing the fishing tournaments around the country. I’m talking about whatever it is that’s driving a few people to push the ethical envelope.
I first felt a subconscious nudge years ago during a salmon fishing trip on Lake Michigan. I was on a charter trolling open water. Using downriggers and planer boards, the captain was outfitted to get the bait down to his fish-finder’s findings. At the first sign of a strike, the first mate snatched the rod from its holder, set the hook with hard yanks, then handed the rod to the next angler in line. Nobody on the boat was given the opportunity to set their own hook or handle a net for fear of losing that initial hook-set. This isn’t unusual for this type of trolling and most paying anglers are fine with the situation. I explained to the first mate that I’d done such fishing before and that I’d like to grab the rod when it was my turn for a fish. He replied that I might miss a fish and that looks bad on their “board.” It was their boat, so I played by their rules. Returning to the dock, the captain and his mate lugged the salmon to their display board to be hung for a photo of happy anglers and a great catch — ready for his website, but I felt a little robbed.
I was in that picture, all smiles — but that’s not how I was feeling. It was like I’d just overpaid for salmon filets — not been on a fishing trip. I still sent that photo out to some friends and they were congratulatory of my success — those were some really nice fish. Most on the boat were very happy, but their prior experience was limited and this trip really helped them understand the process and encouraged a lot of fishing stories and future trips. That was all a good thing… it just wasn’t right for me. I just craved a little more involvement.
Values
From that point, I became selective about my fishing methods, often going alone. I’ve had plenty of fishless days, days with plenty of fish and a lot of self-induced fishing faux pas. I did appreciate the smoked salmon I took home that day and I’ll still book an occasional charter, but it all got me wondering about the value we sometimes place on our trophy fish and game — including my own. Like that charter skipper’s catch-board advertising, today many of us use social media to post our own fish and game. Sometimes it’s through pride, to show off a bit, or to just let others know how much we enjoy our selected sports. On the other hand, you don’t see many posts with small fish or antlerless deer — it’s usually the trophy-types that make the grade. Sometimes I wonder if it’s having an unintended impact on hunting and angling.
It’s true that the Boone and Crocket Club (founded 1887), Ohio Big Bucks Club (founded 1957) and the Pope and Young Club (founded 1961) have been promoting trophy animals since their inception and that every state sponsors record-keeping of the largest fish taken. But, allow me to remind you how much things have changed. We have to admit that today, we have some tremendous advantages over the sportsmen of just a few decades ago. I’ve begun casting a critical eye at some of that gear and the ethical dilemma it can create — legal or not. Is it possible that we could be encouraging a new type of hunter/angler, the “at all costs” sportsman?
Help
The first modern marvel was the military-developed sonars used to read depths. Eventually, these were discovered to be useful for locating submarines, bottom structure and, eventually, in finding fish. Today, those simple electronic flashes on an electronic dial have evolved into vivid screen displays, side-scanning sonar and underwater camera feeds that give anglers a clear picture of fish-holding structure and the number, size, swimming depth and even the species of fish. This technology is promoting the development of high-definition underwater maps that can be downloaded or stored in these fish-finding phenoms.
Game cameras, once simple devices hung on a tree and triggered by motion, now monitor animal movement on live-stream game surveillance systems that send video via cell towers to the hunter’s phone or computer. Multiple hunting stand and camera combinations can be used to monitor animal movements from the comfort of the home or truck; it’s become such an effective method that some southwestern states, based upon the equipment’s game-getting advantages, are considering banning their use in certain areas or hunting circumstances.
Drones are becoming another source of consternation. Some are using them to find and surveil game, to drive animals toward hunters or off of posted lands, spotlight game, to watch for approaching enforcement officers, to harass hunters and a multitude of other nefarious activities. A more benign use is the drone’s delivery system for an angler’s bait, taking the lure and line far beyond a rod’s ability to cast. They’re also being used to locate schooling fish. The sky is literally the limit as to what new scheme someone might come up with in the future.
Today, thermal and night vision, also military-derived gadgets, are relatively common in the field. I recently spoke to a wildlife officer who helped serve a handful of warrants on some suspects. During those court-ordered seizures, several crossbows were discovered with these devices installed on them. I can’t think of many honest reasons to have these devices mounted on any bow-hunting platform.
If it sounds like I’m down on technology, I’m not. Most of the hunters and anglers who possess this gear can be counted on to always do the right thing. It’s the minority that bends the rules. But what influences these folks to break the law or bend the outdoor ethic? Unfortunately, it’s another advancement in technology and, in part, it might be our own social media posts: it’s our print media, it’s me as an outdoor writer. We seem to always push the idea of big antlers and big fish. There are those streaming hunting shows promoting massive trophies and magazines with their big buck covers. For years, game wardens have dubbed this all “horn-porn.” Is it possible that it may be just as addictive?
Recently, Outdoor Life ran an exposé on CJ Alexander, the Ohio man who illegally killed a world-class whitetail. What motivated him and his friends to take such a risk of getting caught and suffering severe penalties? Was he influenced by photos he was seeing, the possibility of manufacturer endorsements, his name in record books, the cash connected to winning prizes or selling antlers? A bump in his social media likes? Envy of other hunter’s posts or success? Remember the cheaters in that Ohio fish tournament who were shoving lead down their catch’s gut so they could “win the prize?” Ironically, following Outdoor Life’s Alexander column was a long list of stories of even more bagged big bucks so typical in such writing.
It seems that when public notoriety or monetary value is placed on any game or fish, trouble lingers — for the culprit, for the resources and in the form of tarnished reputations of all legal sportsmen and women. Could these be the results of the unintended consequences of hyping only the biggest and the best? Has this become one of the influencing motivators that creates someone willing to risk everything for the sake of a set of antlers or a trophy at a fishing derby? Is this what is driving these “at all costs” lawbreakers?
Or could it simply be that they’ve always been there and that those same advancements in technology are helping our wildlife officers to finally catch them? This may well be the case. I doubt we’ve come close to any technological pinnacle. I just hope that Joe and Jane hunters and anglers can adjust to these “advancements” and still learn the skills that those before us needed to successfully catch fish or bag a buck. You know, sometimes, I might just think too much. It could be that the simplest answer is the underlying culprit, and I doubt that the blame should be placed upon technology or social media. Maybe there are just a few greedy folks out there stretching the laws, limits, truth and our tolerance.
“Keep it simple, when you get too complex you forget the obvious.”
— Al McGuire
