Hunting for real conservationists

By David Baker

October 15, 2007 | You pick the conservationist.

Contestant No. 1 is a dreadlocked employee of a local coffee house. His weekends are full of discussions about global warming, deforestation and urban sprawl over a six-pack of organic beer shared with his hemp-shirt-wearing friends.

Contestant No. 2 is a foreman at a local construction company. Every weekend he gets up at the crack of dawn, dresses in three layers of leaf print, sprays himself with the urine of the female of whatever his chosen game is and ventures out into the woods, weapon in hand, to spend the weekend trying to bag an animal.

Contestant No. 3 is a Washington politician, who -- due to excessive committee appointments -- hasn't been out of doors in months. Dressed in his suit, he discusses, votes and approves bills, some even dealing with the appropriation of dollars for wilderness programs.

Most of us may want to guess contestant No.1, given his choice of organic beer, small carbon footprint, hairstyle conducive to water-wise living and affinity for topics important to the environment. The power-tie-wearing politician was probably the first one to be eliminated. Without spending a lot of time outdoors, he loses credibility. And anyone who is actively trying to kill animals can't be for conservation or the well-being of said animals. That would be like Charles Manson being an advocate of public health and safety.

But this is where logic leads many people astray. The conservationist is contestant No. 2.

You are outraged. Chaffed about being duped, made to look like a fool. Left with an empty feeling because you were misguided by the stereotypes that control the decision-making processes in the human brain. How could it be?

The explanation is much easier to grasp.

Since 1937, sportsmen have been pumping money into the conservation of wild places and wildlife habitat. Through the Pittman-Robinson Act of that year, all who purchase hunting equipment -- sporting firearms and ammunition -- pay an 11 percent excise tax that is filtered into state and federal wildlife conservation programs.

An interesting fact: According to an opinion piece by Carl Pope for Sierra Magazine -- a product of the Sierra Club -- sportsmen lobbied Congress for the passage of the act, in essence, making the hunting-related excise tax self-inflicted. According to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, nearly 200 million in Pittman-Robinson dollars a year are funneled into state agencies, funding wildlife management programs and purchasing land to assure it remains undeveloped and open to hunting.

Sportsmen contribute around $700 million to wildlife-related programs a year in total excise taxes and license fees, Pope says.

The total Pittman-Robinson contribution to wildlife conservation programs for the last 70 years is about $5.3 billion, according to a piece written by Bob Simpson in the News and Observer, a Raleigh, N.C., newspaper.

We shouldn't be surprised by such dedication. Opening their wallets is the easiest part of the hunting experience for sportsmen.

Think of the ridicule that goes along with driving a camo truck or dressing in a neo-militia fashion so counter to the norm that people mistake you for Ted Nugent. Imagine the jokes from convenience store workers in the early morning hours regarding the camo attire: "Oh, where did you go? I can't see you because you're wearing camo." "That's great -- a new one. I just need some coffee, very black coffee."

If you looked up dedication in the dictionary, there would be a picture of a man dressed head-to-toe in fake oak-leaf print -- with the occasional plastic and fabric, faux leaf sticking out to give the 3-D impression of a tree -- sitting in a snow storm, holding an instrument of death -- bow, rifle or Daniel Boone musket -- just to catch a glimpse and maybe get a shot at a deer.

Hunters not only give up their fall weekends, including hours of endless football in a warm, comfy house on a warm, comfy sofa, to see/shoot at an animal they may/may not even see/shoot at during a whole day of waiting. They also give up other time to secure the future of these experiences.

Sportsmen, through conservation organizations -- such as Ducks Unlimited, the National Wild Turkey Federation (NWTF) and Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation (RMEF), to name a few -- and state-sponsored programs, like Utah's Dedicated Hunter Program, volunteer hours to work on projects that benefit wildlife. According to the Utah Division of Wildlife Resources' Web site, dedicated hunters put in a total of 24 volunteer hours on wildlife conservation programs in exchange for a guaranteed tag that can be used in any season -- archery, muzzleloader or rifle -- for three years. But, hunters can only harvest two deer a season.

Conservation groups also send volunteers to work on wildlife habitat improvement or restoration projects. An NWTF project in the West called Guzzlers for Gobblers sets up water-catching devices to provide turkeys and other wildlife in arid parts of the region with a constant watering hole. In a November 2006 press release, the NWTF said the project has spent more than $2 million on 830 projects since 1999, improving 1.6 million acres of wildlife habitat.

Similar habitat restoration projects are done by most of these not-for-profit conservation organizations. During its existence, Ducks Unlimited has raised $2.48 billion and preserved 11 million acres in North America, Simpson wrote.

Although Vice President Dick Cheney's face-shooting exhibition probably didn't help the image of politicians as hunters and sportsmen, politicians do have a place in the conservation picture, as well. Government-affiliated groups are also on the hunters-as-conservationists bandwagon. So tsk, tsk for dismissing the well-dressed contestant No. 3 so quickly.

The largest, bi-partisan caucus in Congress is choked full of contestant No. 3's. The Congressional Sportsmen's Caucus has almost 300 members from the Senate and the House of Representatives serving 46 different states. A quick check of www.sportsmenslink.org -- Web site of a caucus-affiliated group, the Congressional Sportsmen's Foundation -- shows Utah is well represented, with senators Orrin Hatch and Robert Bennett and representatives Chris Cannon and Jim Matheson sitting as members.

The CSF site also talks about breakfast briefings and meetings the caucus has, where they discuss wildlife and conservation issues. Things like chronic wasting disease in mule deer are likely topics of these breakfast meetings. Things like discussions of Cheney's shooting technique are most likely not topics frequented on a consistent basis.

In all, conservation is a team effort. No one should be left out, cast aside because of some stereotype furthered by people like Ted Nugent, Dick Cheney or the local coffee-making hippie. There's room for everyone -- politician, gun-nut, organic-beer-lover alike -- to get a piece of the good pub that goes along with a save the world, save our animals vibe.

And just because someone likes to kill animals doesn't mean they don't want to see them exist. Hunting is a sport. It's a means of food acquisition that dates back to the pre-microwave-dinner era of human existence. There's no malice involved in hunting.

Hunters aren't out in the forest thinking, "Damn. I hate that deer. I should kill it. Or am I just jealous that it has antlers and I don't? Either way it needs to go."

It would take one heartless, stone-cold, twisted bastard to hate a deer or elk or rabbit or turkey.

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