By James Davis
Mr. Fisher as I always referred to him, was much more than my best friend’s dad, he was a lifelong mentor to me. From the time I was old enough to hunt, Mr. Fisher was the driving force that fueled my passion for the outdoors. I was not raised in a hunting family. I met Matt Fisher, my best friend, in the fourth grade and his father, Dennis Fisher, took me under his wing and introduced me to the sporting life.
Growing up, my weekend mornings were spent in the pre-dawn darkness waiting for their wood paneled station wagon to illuminate my driveway. Adventure was on the way! Would it be opening day ducks at Duck Creek, geese at Grand River, pheasants at Fox Lake, or deer at the cabin in Black River Falls! We would pick up Mr. Fisher’s brother Wayne at their childhood home in Baraboo or at a dingy diner in Portage. The car ride was filled with excitement and anticipation as hundreds of my questions about decoys, dogs, guns, and boats were all patiently answered.
Days were filled with lessons taught, from where to hunt and what to wear. To learning about decoy placement and how to process game. I vividly remember a cold Thanksgiving Day rabbit hunt at Mr. Fisher’s mother and laws farm, just outside of Cuba City. Weeks before, Matt and I had completed the Wisconsin Hunter’s Safety Program. Proudly wearing our “graduate” patches on our new orange vests, we harvested our first rabbits. Mr. Fisher, clad in his well-worn jones cap and faded brown canvas coat reached back and removed the rabbits from his game bag. A few patches of their soft, delicate, gray hair floated to the snow-covered ground below. Out of the wind, behind the barn, he patiently took the time to show us how to dress the rabbits. A slice in the middle of the back and then pulling the skin off in each direction. We were taught to remove the legs and finally the head. Slicing the belly from the bottom to the sternum, and then removing the innards. The shiny, silver, muscular body was placed in a large bowl of salt water....the water turned pink. We learned to use the fresh snow to clean the blood off of our hands and our knife blades. Numbing at first, our hands warmed with friction as the compacted flakes turned to liquid and washed the quickly drying blood away. Smiling with our prizes in tow, we made our way to the warm farmhouse where a delicious treat of fried rabbit was on the horizon!
As the years passed, Mr. Fisher had the trust and the faith to allow Matt and I the freedoms to traverse the thousands of acres of public marshes and forests that dot Wisconsin’s seventy-two counties. We would branch out on our own for hours on end, exploring and learning. These treasured weekends have continued throughout my life. For this lifelong passion, I am forever grateful.
As we enter a new age of wing-shooting, we are witnessing many newcomers to the sport who, like myself, years ago, did not grow up in a hunting household. From secret grouse coverts and how to pole a duck skiff to the best load for spooky late season roosters, hunting is riddled with tried-and-true techniques and inherent wisdoms. For most, these time-honored beliefs were passed down generation to generation from parents and grandparents. Without these wisdoms that were so commonly passed down, newcomers to the sport are left to “figure it out” on their own. A new survey by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife service shows that today, only about 5 percent of Americans, 16 years and older, actually hunt. That’s half of what it was 50 years ago and the decline is expected to accelerate over the next decade. Plain and simple, fewer Americans are taking up hunting and experienced hunters are fading fast.
Hunters play an important role in society. We provide the necessary funds to support local, national, and international conservation efforts. In a day and age of processed and genetically modified food, hunting is a good source of nutrition and an opportunity to eat “clean”. Hunting also helps states manage the size of certain animal populations and stimulates the economy. Then and now, rare is the occasion I don’t stop in a small town to fuel up, get coffee, grab snacks for the day, and eat lunch or dinner!
Mr. Fisher stepped into my life and “passed the torch”. Whether he knew it or not he installed a love and respect for the outdoors. He turned a curious little boy into a lifelong hunter. Mr. Fisher has since passed and I, like many of you, are in a position to pass the torch. Looking for a way to help out and get involved? You can always invite a friend or coworker to “tag” along while you sight in your bow, head to the trap range, or paddle a local marsh scouting for ducks. These activities are sometimes just enough to “peak” a newcomer’s interest!
Contact your local Fish and Game or Department of Natural Resources. Many state agencies as well as local and national conservation groups have developed and support “learn to hunt” mentor programs, seminars, outings, and workshops. They are always looking for volunteers and participants! No matter the age or activity, these are all great opportunities to not only help out at but to also introduce a future hunter to the sporting life.
You never know if that young boy, full of questions with a twinkle in his eye that watched and helped you clean ducks in your garage, that you later allowed to plink cans in your backyard with his BB gun or your neighbor you took clay shooting and then on a pheasant hunt may become a lifelong sportsmen and conservationist. Whether it be your own children, friends of your children, personal friends, coworkers, or neighborhood acquaintances, as sportsmen and women we owe it to the future of the sport to pass the torch. So, I ask. Have you passed the torch?