Jack and I had the rare opportunity to get off the farm this week (many thanks to my parents for keeping watch over the farm)! This week was the first time since the pandemic that we have traveled outside of Routt County (for something other than farm related business), and I must say, it was a breath of fresh air to take some time for ourselves, to rejuvenate and to do something a little bit different than our normal day-to-day tasks.

I was lucky enough to receive a pronghorn tag in Wyoming this year, and so, Jack, Kade, and I traveled to Jack’s parent’s ranch in Wyoming to spend some time together and for Jack and I to try and fill our tags. This hunt has been something I have wanted to go on since the very first year I went on a pronghorn hunt with Jack, back in 2013. I actually had never been on any hunt before I met Jack 7 years ago, and he quickly became a mentor to me. Hunting was something I had never visualized myself getting into prior to my time studying wildlife biology at CSU, but after learning about its importance in managing our wildlife populations in North America (and eating many meals of venison and elk steaks with Jack) I knew it was something I wanted to try. A lot of what I was taught as a wildlife biology student was science related- running population models and doing statistics, but when it came down to it, I also learned that hunting is more than a management tool. It is another way for me to take responsibility as a meat eater. For me, the draw to hunting really was based on how much I enjoyed the meat and my deep interest in investing in the food I was consuming and knowing exactly where it came from. After spending a few hunting seasons tagging along with Jack and helping dress and process animals, I became ready to take on the hunt for myself.

Well, I thought I was ready at least. In actuality, the first time I ever looked down the barrel of a gun with an animal in my sights, I about had a panic attack. I felt sick for the rest of the night and the next morning, and in general, began to think I couldn’t do it. It was too hard, too emotional, and just felt beyond uncomfortable for me to be the hunter, hunting its prey. My nature has never been to harm, or to take life, but, even after my first time out hunting with Jack all those years ago, I still felt somewhere deep inside that I was being hypocritical. I mean, I ate meat every day, at least twice a day. So why couldn’t I hunt for it myself? I could. It didn’t mean it would be easy, or even fun, but I wanted to take on that responsibility to feed myself. That is the only way I can truly explain how I felt. And, once I began to really, truly understand the WHY, why I wanted to hunt, I began to take ownership of how I was feeling, and I became more confident and felt more at peace with my decision to be a hunter.

Many years later, and even after having a couple of successful hunts, being the one behind the rifle, taking a life, doesn’t get easier. It is always a mix of emotions when a hunt is successful. You are happy, of course, because meat has been secured for your family, but on the other hand, the cost of the life is mourned every single time. In many ways, the hunting lifestyle mimics the life Jack and I have built for our family on the farm. Because we want to know where our food comes from, we invest in raising our own food. Much like the elk in the forest, or the pronghorn on the prairie has lived its best life, we want to know that the animals we raise for our own food have lived theirs. That is why we emphasize high intensity rotational grazing for our sheep, pasture raise all of our animals, and feed them high quality food. We want to know what they ate, that they were butchered in a humane way, and that the meat has been processed with the utmost care because to do so otherwise would be to disrespect the life of the animal.

There is a quote from Aldo Leopold that I think pretty well sums up my thoughts: “There are two spiritual dangers in not owning a farm. One is the danger of supposing that breakfast comes from the grocery, and the other that heat comes from the furnace.” Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac

This philosophy is what drives us in every decision we make on the farm, and much of it stemmed from learning about the science of conservation in school, but a lot of it also is inspired by being out in nature and learning from the land.

Getting to explore life off the farm this week and spending time in the woods was a welcome respite from the consistent flow of routines and chores we experience on a daily basis. I am always enamored with the beauty of the forest and the Wyoming prairie, and regardless of the success of the hunt, I am left walking along the game trails as my worries drift away on the fall leaves dancing through the air. As I walk, I feel I too, begin to flutter, to float along to the song of the aspen leaves rustling in the breeze, and feel at peace as I wander and search for what I am looking for. Often, I am surprised that what I am searching for and what I discover aren’t nearly the same, but my soul feels full and at peace, either way.

All the best,

Farmer Kinzie