Hunters with gadgets not shooting game any easier

A recent commentary published in this newspaper's Sunday Opinion Exchange section headlined "How high tech has killed real hunting" labored to make the case that game species stand little chance against today's ethically challenged, Special Ops-equipped sportsmen and women.

Particularly targeted were deer hunters, most of whom, the account alleged, are "perched on watchtowers on the forest's edge, armed with absurdly high-powered rifles with precision scopes and loaded with ammo packing enough velocity to take down an animal at 500 yards. Some guns can launch a hail of bullets as fast as the finger can pull the trigger."

Titillating stuff, indeed, and perhaps the unknowing audience to which this scribbling was intended was persuaded that nowadays in Minnesota a waylaying of animals occurs every fall, commando style, at the hands of hunters whose arsenals lack only air support to be truly combat-ready.

Except there's little truth here.

At least not if the point of the author's meanderings was that many hunters today, unlike their smoke-pole-toting, Daniel Boonesque brethren of yesteryear, "embrace the new-tech stuff that's surely [distorts] the meaning of 'fair chase.' "

Admittedly, the advent and use by modern hunters of improved firearms, bows and clothing, as well as specialty equipment such as handheld GPS units, has changed the field sports.

Yet such developments notwithstanding, even a cursory review of Minnesota sporting history supports a proposition entirely contrary to the myth that game species hardly stand a chance against today's hunters, relative to times past.

Take deer.

A review of Minnesota whitetail buck harvest data dating to 1918 shows that hunters of yesteryear often were significantly more efficient at killing these animals than are today's hunters.

Buck, or male, is the operative descriptive here, because it is that gender of deer that throughout history hunters have continually and aggressively sought. Does, or antlerless deer, always have been secondary targets, subject to appropriate permits, and at times in Minnesota have been protected from hunters altogether.

Reasonably, one would expect over time that the percentage of hunters taking bucks in Minnesota would rise, and significantly, if, during the same period, sportsmen and women had become ever more efficient thanks to the deployment of modern firearms and gadgetry that supposedly have "infected" hunting with a "newer, better, easier" syndrome.

It simply ain't so. And the data prove it.

Ethically, times better

It is true that some facets of modern hunting and actions of today's hunters are unfortunate, if not deplorable.

Illegal deer baiting is one, as properly cited in the opinion piece referenced here. Ditto permanent tree stands (some resembling ramshackle fire towers) constructed illegally on public land.

Chasing ruffed grouse while tooling through the state's North Woods on a four-wheeler is another postmodern practice that reflects poorly on everyone involved, DNR regulators included, while also disrespecting a truly honorable game bird.

That said, without argument, modern hunters, whatever their shortcomings, conduct themselves far more ethically, and legally, in the field than their forbears did, while also being governed by far more laws, regulations and limits than has ever been the case in history — and while pursuing game populations much smaller than in the past, deer perhaps being the exception.

Time was in this state, don't forget, when wild turkeys were shot from trees at night, when deer were routinely riddled with bullets while being shined in the dark, when ducks were punt-gunned on the water with a single shot, killing scores of fowl, and when venison by the rail car was illegally shipped to restaurants far and wide.

What's more, protecting wildlife in the "good old days" was dangerous work.

In 1897, for example, Minnesota game warden Charles Wetsel was stabbed and bludgeoned to death while working a moose and fish netting case near Bemidji.

And in 1941, three unarmed game wardens were gunned down by a commercial fisherman on the shores of Lake Sakatah in Waterville.

Occurrences such as those are rare today, if not nonexistent, because of widespread acceptance by hunters of the rules of fair chase, and to the general citizenry's understanding and appreciation of basic conservation principles — principles espoused most loudly through time by hunters, often to the public's deaf ears.

Limits lower, game smarter

Hunters today on average in most cases also take less game per individual and per outing than historically has been the case in Minnesota — again, notwithstanding improvements to their clothing and gear.

This is because many game populations have declined, driven by habitat loss. Consequently, limits have been reduced and game that remains in some instances has refined its behavior to avoid and evade hunters.

Consider ruffed grouse.

More than 100,000 Minnesotans seek these birds every fall, and in counties frequented by the most determined and efficient wingshooters and their dogs — Kanabec, Mille Lacs and Pine to name three — the grouse's escape mannerisms seem to grow more refined one generation to the next.

These birds, for example, somehow "know" that a questing pointing-dog's bell or beeping locator collar signals approaching danger long before the dog picks up a grouse's scent.

And pheasants?

Back in the "good old days," common practice in Minnesota in autumn was to string a cable between two pickups, perch hunters on the vehicles' hoods and vector the whole operation into a field.

The cables flushed the birds. The "hunters" shouldered their guns. Hens in some seasons were legal fare, along with roosters. And dinner piled up.

Today, ringneck hunters can wear out $300 boots searching for their daily two-bird limits.

Finally, ducks.

Continentwide, the story goes, more of these birds exist today than at any time since about 1960. If that's true, and it's not in Minnesota, thank hunters for their insistence that mallards, teal and other fowl should be protected, along with the habitat they depend on.

That said, those who hunt ducks today in Minnesota rise early and as necessary travel far and wide, often with the scantest hopes of exceeding very low expectations.

Sometimes in their pickups — as with those of other hunters today — a sprinkling of the latest whiz-bang gizmos can be found.

Other times not.

Regardless, the point of the hunt, more now than ever, is not the equipment used — however fancy — or even the game that is killed.

Nowadays, given the amount of game available, the restrictions governing its take and the very limited time most people have to go afield, the point of the hunt is the hunt.