Most Interesting Men

It’s an endeavor undertaken by men stretching as far back as prehistory, and I surmise the motivation always has been three-part: to protect, to eliminate resource competition, and to prove one’s valor. What I speak of is dangerous game hunting. It’s a topic I broached in Run Amok, a dispatch written as a consequence of restlessness, a.k.a. ennui, my longstanding companion, churning away such that I desire tactical work but for which I’m too old for consideration. Yet, thanks be to the example set by a train of most interesting men who’ve gone before me, dangerous game hunting just may be the solution to the problem at hand.

Now, perhaps you’ve read Run Amok and privately mused, “Settle down, Steve. You have fly-fishing.” And yes, I do have it, and I enjoy it. But when I consider that a butterfly once alighted on my fly-rod while I was pursuing trout and juxtapose it with the image of that S.W.A.T. team, I realize that I very much want to be most interesting, too, and fly-fishing alone doesn’t cut it.

You see, fly-fishing actually is one of the softer disciplines among fieldsports. In fact, I’ve never once been pressed so hard while on a stream with rod in hand that it felt like dying, unlike my experience deerstalking wherein it’s happened twice – in the North Woods of the USA the first time, and in the Cairngorms of Scotland the second. Moreover, as a consequence of catch-and-release, I’ve lost count of the number of sanctimonious fly-anglers proclaiming they’re vegan, believing that killing and eating flesh is a deadly sin. These are the same guys puttering along in Toyota Priuses decorated with ‘COEXIST’ decals – the ones you invariably get behind when you’re running late to an appointment. Don’t they know that fly-fishing is a form of hunting, a.k.a. bloodsport? It goes to show what catch-and-release ineluctably gets us as a society, reminiscent of birth control. Catholics stood firm, but Protestants made concessions, and the next thing Hell’s on a rampage.

The Value of a Catholic Education

It’s very tempting to expound upon the virtue of holding the line, but I’d also be veering too far from the point. Although just know that I’d actually send all these fly-fishing soy boys to Catholic school if I could. For they need to be taught a thing or two about occasion of sin and the categories thereof. The problem they face with catch-and-release fly-fishing is that it’s also a Catch-22. Occasionally the fish dies, which means that someone has to imperil his soul and eat it in order to avoid the sin of wanton waste. Although their transgressing actually starts even prior to getting themselves in that jam. Because given that they’ve freely opted to engage in catch-and-release fly-fishing and given that they have canines, such an endeavor amounts to a voluntary and proximate occasion of sin – morally lapsing is not remote but nearly certain and it also is a voluntary outcome. All of which entails that, for these herbivorous colleagues of mine, wading into a stream carrying a fly-rod is a sin in and of itself.

Damn them! A bunch of sanctimonious soy boys prancing around from one stream to the next, they’re absolutely insufferable – fly-fishing’s enemy within! For a man is judged by the company he keeps, which means that – in addition to a case of ennui – I now have an image problem.

But moving on…

I swear on a stack of Bibles that I’ll never own a Toyota Pious, I mean Prius. Yet, that’s easy enough because the ‘don’ts’ are nearly always clear-cut. Thou shall not murder; thou shall not commit adultery; thou shall not steal; etc.: All of it is straightforward. It’s the ‘do’s’ that require the most thought. Therefore, I must get on with picking-up where I left-off in Run Amok, beginning with defining a term: What is meant when we call something dangerous game? A whitetail buck, after all, can harm you. Yet, no deer hunter looking to fill his tag does so with his guard up. That is unless he’s afraid of his own shadow. Although a timid soul isn’t the type that goes afield hunting in the first place.

Very well, while it is true that the ability to kill or seriously injure a human is a necessary condition for a particular species to gain the distinction of being dangerous, it is insufficient by itself. Rather, it must coincide with a second trait, and that is the inclination to turn the tables – to fight rather than flee. Therefore, what we mean when we label quarry dangerous game is that it not only can kill or seriously injure you, but that it also is disposed to hunt you back in the event that you first choose to hunt it.

What I’m Talking About

Now, disagreeable toothy creatures with sharp claws are obviously dangerous to pursue. The consequences of making a mistake in that context are extreme, which means that you have to hunt them with equally extreme prejudice. You cannot afford to equivocate. I mean I remember reading somewhere the report of a man who successfully grassed a leopard, but only after it charged him, and he likened the experience to wrestling a running chainsaw. The category, however, also includes ill-tempered, mighty herbivores, such as the African Cape buffalo, that can and will stomp a man into the ground. Yet, in lieu of belaboring the point, I believe the famous dangerous game hunter, Jim Corbett’s account of his killing the Muktesar man-eating tigress, which appears below, says it all for every creature disposed to hunt you if you first choose to hunt it.

The Thrill of the Hunt

Dangerous game hunting then seems to deliver exactly what I’m looking for in a line of work, starting with the fact that it’s high pressure, which I’ve always handled well, making the endeavor perfect medicine to treat my lifelong ailment, ennui. In fact, I believe I’m at my best when the pressure’s on. For example, every March, from 3rd- to 8th-grade, my parents received a Stephen is in danger of failing letter after which they’d threaten to send me to Frederick Christian Academy (basically a Protestant version of parochial school) if I didn’t shape-up. Yet, that’s what always happened. I never once flunked-out. I even earned my doctorate and became a chemistry professor because of it. The idea of doing time at Frederick Christian Academy scared the hell out of me.

To be clear, I would never intend to take things too far hunting dangerous game. I know I’m not indestructible. Yet, if I had somehow drifted into believing I was, then that shovel-hook I took to the ribs while sparring this past February was a reality check (Refer to A Short Valentine’s Day Treatise on Male Strutting.). It was simply one more in a long line of injuries reminding me of my mortality, starting with a lawnmower accident on Memorial Day, May 31st, 1971, which resulted in the loss of most of my right foot. And that lesson, in turn, was reinforced nearly 2-years later one sunny, early spring morning when I jumped-off the top of the swing-set playing Superman and broke my right arm, discovering that I wasn’t the Man of Steel after all. Of course, I went on to break more bones and dislocate a joint or two in the years to come because that is the nature of a boy’s life. But I digress.

Again, I would never intend to push beyond the limit when hunting dangerous game. For the underlying assumption of the endeavor is to ultimately emerge either unscathed or, at the worst, only with an attractive scar or two. You know what I mean – a red badge of courage that impresses the girl.

The Rank-and-File Dangerous Game Hunter

The classic venue for dangerous game hunting is the African safari. A 19th-Century British innovation, it has been the preoccupation of a long list of most interesting men and for a number of reasons. Theodore Roosevelt (1858 – 1919), 26th president of the United States, from whom Voyageurs Fieldsport derives inspiration, as well as Frederick Selous (1851 – 1917), the man guiding him for a time, both did so partly out of scientific curiosity. It is believed that Ernest Hemingway (1899 – 1961), who composed Green Hills of Africa, which is a non-fiction account of his first African safari written in the style of a novel, was somewhat animated by a desire to test his mettle. W.D.M. ‘Karamojo’ Bell (1880 – 1954) took to hunting elephants partly to gain from the ivory trade. Some even were driven by a sense of duty to the British Empire. Call them romantics if it pleases you. I reckon there must be at least one man then who went off hunting dangerous game in Africa simply to impress a woman.

What’s intriguing is that, whether the motivation was scientific or ‘valorific’ or patriotic or to win the heart of a lady, an overwhelming number were military types. This includes the four individuals mentioned above. Moreover, the pattern was generally the same: Adverse to living comfortably and adept at keeping a clear mind when things run amok, they cycled between the hunting of men and that of African dangerous game, the latter filling the void often left by truces and treaties.

Odd, isn’t it? These men possessed such complex personalities. Truces and treaties are good things toward which they strived to secure in their lifetimes. We know that Teddy Roosevelt, for example, sought to avoid and end wars, most notably by brokering the cessation of the Russo-Japanese War (1904 – 1905).² And W. D. M. ‘Karamojo’ Bell, for his part, worked diligently to maintain peaceful relations with indigenous peoples.³ Yet, there was something about a battle they craved and for which they resorted to the African safari to satiate. The implication then is that dangerous game hunting and soldiering are, in fact, two sides of the same coin.

In the final analysis, though, whether dangerous game hunters of old went afield in Africa or the Indian subcontinent or elsewhere, all of them were definitely most interesting men, not only because they enjoyed hunting just as most interesting men always do, but also on account of their desire to pursue the riskiest of quarry, which demonstrates they absolutely refused to take life lying down.⁴ In the words of Jack London’s Credo, they understood that “the function of man is to live, not [simply] to exist.”⁵ Now, perhaps I’m nothing more than an overgrown boy scout. Yet, I can’t help wanting to emulate them; to be most interesting in the same manner as they were. Just think what hunting lions, tigers, leopards, and Cape buffalos would do for my personality. And then there’s the campfire stories that would come of it.

But is dangerous game hunting meaningful and ethically sound?

The nature of dangerous game hunting, of course, demands evaluating whether it is a meaningful endeavor or simply thrill-seeking for its own sake. And to judge properly, the matter actually requires adopting a group-level rather than an individual-level perspective. Additionally, the nature of dangerous game hunting also demands evaluating whether it is ethically sound. In other words, is the endeavor good for the quarry and the landscape within which it lives? These questions and more will be addressed in the next dispatch, The Lion Sleeps Tonight, to be posted in the weeks to come. Until then and as always, stay adventurous, my friends.

1. In The Jim Corbett Omnibus. 1991. Oxford University Press, Oxford, UK. ↩︎
2. https://www.nobelprize.org/prizes/peace/1906/roosevelt/facts/. ↩︎
3. W.D.M Bell. 1923. Wanderings of an Elephant Hunter, serialized in Country Life. ↩︎
4. Guys, I take after my Grandfather Jones and enjoy wordplay. No pressure, of course, but if you’re not a hunter, then something that should be present in your life is missing. ↩︎
5. https://americanliterature.com/author/jack-london/poem/credo. ↩︎