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Bowhunting Ethics

Let me say at the outset that this article discusses my personal view on ethics, and I judge myself only. It is the responsibility and privilege of each hunter to decide what he or she will stand or fall by. Ethics is an issue about which everyone has something to say. Views are usually driven by emotions, and are almost always clouded by a lack of understanding and personal introspection.

But what exactly is meant by “ethics”? Most would say that ethics are rules, written or unwritten, that dictate the way we behave in different circumstances.

Applying this line of thought to hunting, and more specifically, hunting with bow-and-arrow, and regarding them through the myriad eyes of the many hunters who stalk the veld, these rules begin to take on a life of their own. It seems that everyone has their own set of rules, or else disagrees at some point with those of their fellow hunter. If these “rules” exist, then it seems that they are open to a very wide interpretation. This poses a problem, because if ethics are a set of rules, who has the correct interpretation, or for that matter, the correct rules?

Dictionaries do not define ethics as a set of rules, but as a moral code by which we conduct our various activities, do business or play sport based on our moral standpoint. Ethics also constitute the moral code by which we live.

Some might say I'm splitting hairs and question whether there is a difference between a set of rules and a code of conduct. They are the same thing with a different name. Both influence the way we behave.
But are they? Consider the set of rules while, as a guest on someone's farm, you patiently wait for the game to come in to drink. In front of you, pinned to the wall of the hide, is a piece of paper headed Rules Of The Hide. Below the heading are ten points, similar to the Ten Commandments. Rule three says: “Thou shalt pay the full fee of the animal if thou shootest and misseth!”

Along comes a warthog, you draw the bow with your shaking hand, and zip! You miss! You turn again to the “Ten Commandments” and rule number three stares back at you silently, and somewhat accusatory. What happens now? The writing on the wall says you must report the miss and cough up the cash. But in reality, the rule on the wall is just ink on paper, and things could go either way at this point.
The fact is: the ink on the paper can only test your ethics. As you read the rule, one of two things can happen. Your code of ethics will cause you to either honour or dishonour the rule, which is powerless until it is given power by your ethic for that particular situation.

I view rules and ethics differently. Rules are good and necessary, but they are honoured or dishonoured by ethics, our moral code of conduct. I believe that rules generally spring from a particular ethical standpoint held to by a person or group of people, but the rule holds sway in that person or group and helps to govern their conduct precisely because it finds its source in their moral code. It becomes effective in a particular person because morals – good, bad or neither – drive a person's will and cause them to act in a particular way.

Think of a library lined with shelves filled with books. The books represent individual moral standpoints. When the hunter is faced with a situation or choice, the librarian runs down the aisles looking for a book relevant to the situation. He finds the book, speed-reads it, and makes a judgment call based on the moral ethic present in the book. As he does this, the will agrees with the librarian and jumpstarts the body into action. Every decision or reaction to a situation has its source in the moral library, and is acted upon by the will. This is ethics in action.

For me, a good hunting ethic is sometimes difficult to define, precisely because ethics are not a set of rules, but rather come from within the hunter. The code is sometimes difficult to understand, and sometimes speaks in a small, soft voice which, in the heat of the moment, with the thunder of adrenalin in our ears, we do not hear until it is too late.Defining our ethics for ourselves takes thought and a degree of introspection. In my opinion, if I want to hunt down an animal in order to kill it, self-examination is not a tall order.

The phrase that most often comes up when the issue of ethics is discussed is “ in the spirit of fair chase”. Let me say again, this is my personal opinion, not yet fully formed and I reserve the right to change it.
Fair chase is good, but is hunting fair? Fair is two heavyweight boxers pitted against each other, both with the same mass, same gloves, same level of fitness (at least, both should have been given equal opportunity to become as fit as possible).

Fair is two Olympic sprinters lining up for the 100m dash, both without steroids in their veins, both with equal opportunity to train to the best of their ability.

Fair is not a cheetah bearing down at 100kmph on a young impala who can reach a top speed of 50kmph, or a pack of African hunting dogs running down and eating a pregnant and lame wildebeest cow.

Fair is not even a pride of lions, specialists in hunting buffalo, who have a strategy that works because of constant use and superior intelligence.

Fair chase would be one impala hunting another of equal stature and intelligence. In fact, it would be ludicrous to insist that wild animals hunt fairly. If all the predators one day decided to offer a fair chance to their prey, they would very soon starve to death. Hunting is not fair.

How about this scenario? The planet's super-predator, covered in synthetic camouflage, with eyes capable of 8x magnification, a brain the size of a spanspek (melon) and capable of complex logical thought and reasoning, armed with high-tech weapons that allow a kill at 35m-plus, stalking an antelope armed at best with two horns rendered almost useless by an intense fear of the super-predator. Fair chase? I think not. This mega-predator can work out feeding patterns, breeding habits, migratory routes, habits and weaknesses of its prey, and can construct blinds and elevated hides to outwit its prey, who relies only on instinct and the five senses for its survival.

Let's be honest. There is no contest here. It's a sure thing for the supreme predator, sooner or later. So, can we realistically justify our hunting by saying that we do it in the spirit of fair chase? I say no. Where does that leave us? Are we doomed to hunt with smarting consciences, or if that is too painful, to hang up our bows like a memorial commemorating those thrilling days in the bush, now only a distant memory soured by the guilt of an unfair chase?

No. In my view, hunting is designed to be unfair. The predator must be smarter, faster and more aggressive in order to make the kill. The hunter must strive to get the upper hand in all ways possible, as long as he does not violate his code of ethics. Ethics does not imply fairness. If it did, then none of us should hunt. Hunting ethically means that we hunt within the parameters of our conscience, which is what justifies or condemns the manner in which we hunt.

This said, questions and discussions around whether or not baiting, shooting from hides, or shooting at waterholes are ethical practices, can only be answered on the basis of a comprehensive code of ethics which arises out of the moral heart of an individual. That is not to say that ethics will always differ from individual to individual on every point. Some points of ethical conduct are universal and obvious, and are adopted by most as accepted modes of behaviour. However, there are those points that always seem to be points of departure or contention, and for which there may not be a unanimous consensus. This is fine and good, because we do not all have the same system of values. Individuals may happily differ on some of these issues, without either one compromising his ethics. I am not promoting relativism here, but merely suggesting that we should choose upon which hills we are willing to die.

Animal predators enjoy the hunt. When I walk out the door with my shotgun in hand, the expression on the face of my German shorthaired pointer and the eager spring in his step tells me that he enjoys the hunt. I believe that we, as super-predators, should also enjoy our hunting. I have often heard people say that you should not hunt if you do not feel remorse after the kill. That is good, I think, but there needs to be a tension between the sadness we feel at the demise of a beautiful animal at our own hand, the exhilaration of the hunt, and a gladness in being afforded the privilege of being allowed to take part in this contest of life and death.

Awareness at all times of the privilege of being able to participate in a hunt will go a long way to ensure that we practise this wonderful sport ethically.

Humility, honour and respect; these are traits that should belong to the hunter.
Humility, because of the undeserved status as super-predator; honour, because this is a matter of life and death; respect, because we live in a world that does not belong to us.

Article Courtesy of: sabowhunter.com