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Last updated on May 5th, 2023
“I dislike the thought that some animal has been made miserable to feed me. If I am going to eat meat, I want it to be from an animal that has lived a pleasant, uncrowded life outdoors, on bountiful pasture, with good water nearby and trees for shade.” – Wendell Berry
Have you come down with the affliction known as “adult-onset hunter?” Ever thought about ditching the styrofoam and plastic-wrapped Angus, for fresh table-fare that you brought from field to the plate yourself?
I love beef as much as the next guy, but there’s something satisfying knowing the animal providing you with steaks and burger, was given its due respect.
For me, becoming a hunter later in life was a series of steps, realizations, and life experiences gained over many years. It was something I grew into due to the track my life was on.
The three main earliest drivers I can remember were: the desire to source my own meat, conservation and ethical considerations of being a meat-eater, and an outdoor career that lent itself to the former and latter.
“Adult-Onset Hunter,” a now widely used term, was coined by Tovar Cerulli, author of “The Mindful Carnivore: A Vegetarian’s Hunt for Sustenance.” Check out his hilarious and accurate description of this growing malady.
I am Shawn—a lifetime carnivore and self-diagnosed adult-onset hunter. The following is a true account of one man’s life-long transformation into a conscientious hunter.
Adult-Onset Hunters Don’t Typically Have Early Hunting Influences
With all the time I spent in the woods as a kid, swimming in creeks, camping, and fishing, hunting was something that never occurred to me. Dad had hunted a little earlier in life, but by the time my brother and I were born he had apparently given it up.
There is a rumor that mom made him feel bad about trying to shoot a deer once. This may have been the catalyst that caused him to quit. We can neither confirm nor deny.
Dad was a man’s, man—a tugboat skipper, who worked out of Alaska. He had grown up on a western Washington farm, was a backyard mechanic, and a handyman. Dad loved Canadian whiskey, Johnny Cash, Hot Rod, and Car and Driver magazines. Plus, he could fix just about anything you threw at him.
We fished, camped, and had guns in the house. We went on wilderness death marches and played in the mountains on family vacations.
However, chasing game through the woods was never a part of that. Without dad or any of the other men in the family being hunters, there was simply no one to introduce me or my brother to it.
Planting an Early Seed
In my mid-twenties, I had gone back to school to study wildlife biology. Nabbing a competitive volunteer position at Mt. Rainier National Park, set me up for the next five seasons working there as a plant and wildlife bio-tech. The first bug was put in my ear about hunting during my second season at MORA.
Matt, a guy on the crew who had become a good friend, was an archer, big game hunter, and a 3D competition shooter. One day after work, he took me and some of the other guys to shoot his bows.
It was fun. But because none of us could really pull his bow back, the session was short-lived. Matt shot his compound, while the rest of us shot his lower poundage recurve.
The next day, we were at work yanking foxglove and ox-eye daisy out of the native vegetation. Our small crew had gotten on the topic of hunting. I joked
But putting that into action was still a long-way off.
Finding Hunting Inspiration
Years of school and contract wildlife work continued. In 2007 I moved to Utah and met some people who became good friends of mine. One of them, Derrick, was a bowhunter. I can’t remember what sparked it, but he showed me an impressive, burly ATA case that looked like it could fit a Volkswagen.
Derrick opened it up and revealed a striking Bowtech compound bow. I knew next-to-nothing about modern compound bows at the time. With cool lines, strings, and accessories coming out every-which-way, here was my only question—was it Autobot or Decepticon? Did this thing transform?? I couldn’t be sure. Regardless, the Bowtech looked super cool.
Several months later, I took a job conducting owl surveys in northern California. I made a friend on the crew who was a bowhunter.
Josh from Colorado, by way of West Virginia. I believe in signs and they were starting to come with greater frequency. He had brought his bow, elk jerky, gear brochures, and magazines.
We talked about hunting gear and his hunts. Josh would shoot his bow in our little trailer compound. Then I’d drive off in my work rig and contemplate.
A Hunter Mindset Begins to Grow
Owl-work is a solitary job. You are out by yourself with a lot of time to think and dream. Not to mention you are out during the perfect times of day to see game. And I was seeing deer and other wildlife everywhere.
As a field biologist, I began thinking about my food, my inextricable connection to the natural world, and how we humans fit into the “circle of life.”
I started to think about the sentiments of Wendell Berry and the words of William Cronon.
What if I eliminated the supply chain and got back to basics providing meat for myself? As a kid, I had always done this with fishing. I don’t do catch and release. I always cleaned, gutted, and ate what I caught.
In lock-step with these musings, the primal urge to match wits with an animal that is faster and more cunning was also manifesting.
A change was happening. Mere thoughts were turning into daydreams. Daydreams were starting to grow into
The next couple of months wore on. More elk jerky, more perusing the shiny bow and broadhead ads, more on-the-clock obsessing while driving through the beautiful Sierra Nevada.
Becoming an Adult-Onset Archer
Summer of 2008 I was back in Salt Lake. While waiting to hear if I’d be heading to the Uintah Basin oil fields for rare plant work, there was some business to tend to. Specifically, finding a bow.
I remembered a little archery shop I had lived close to in Murray. Dragging my friend Rachael along, we went in to check out the goods and get my draw length measured.
While there, I had a very awkward exchange with the staffer—we’ll call him ol’ Mr. Crabby. Ol’ Mr. Crabby was apparently having a difficult time understanding that I was new to archery.
He didn’t seem to get that I had never shot a compound bow. Ol’ Mr. Crabby also didn’t get that I couldn’t answer his questions about what my draw length or draw weight was. I didn’t friggin’ have either one.
Through his unpleasantness, sighs, grunts, and smart-ass back-talk, I managed to get my draw length measured. But my face was hot and I was mad as all hell.
Rachael was just laughing the whole time. One thing was for sure, he may have got me measured, but he would not be getting a bow sale from me.
Next stop; Sportsman’s Warehouse.
After arriving at Sportsman’s, the affable kid behind the counter helped me out. When asked about my draw length, I was able to give him the hard-earned knowledge gained from ol’ Mr. Crabby the previous day.
“Twenty-seven inches!” I proudly exclaimed.
He grabbed a few bows for me to shoot. Being a southpaw, I was limited to a small subset they had in stock. I shot them all and one definitely stood out amongst the rest.
The Bowtech, Vital Impact.
The Vital Impact was Bowtech’s re-tooled Tomkat, made for Sportsman’s—and made for lefties. A single-cam bow, the ease of shooting was astonishing. This thing practically shot itself.
A love affair was instantly formed. You know when you have the right bow because it feels like it was forged by the Gods for you, and only you. The staffer cut me a dozen arrows and off I went.
The next day I went back to ol’ Mr. Crabby’s place since they had a shooting range. I went there with my new bow and arrows—probably as much to gloat as I did to shoot.
Thwak! Stunned silence.
Thwak! Okay, this is pure awesomeness.
Thwak! BULLSEYE!
I was completely hooked.
I didn’t realize I needed a release to shoot my new compound bow. So, when I got to the range, I ended up shooting with my fingers. Derrick kindly let me know later that I would want to get a release. But it was already too late. After four hours, I had reduced my fingers to hot, tingly, little burger nubs.
The Perfect Grounds for Hunter Transformation
Utah is a magical land of bountiful wildlife, large dramatic landscapes, and outdoor recreation. So, when I got word I would be heading to the far east corner of the state? I was stoked.
Not only that, but I would only be an hour from the Wyoming border and about 30 minutes from Colorado. The work housing in Vernal didn’t have a backyard per se—rather a 10-foot wide strip between the duplex and the adjacent horse field. The strip would become my shooting range, where I could shoot out to about 70 yards.
My favorite option was the ability to drive 10 minutes out of town and be on vast, endless tracts of BLM land.
After buying a menagerie of 3D animal targets, I would take them out there and practice. I was working on my eventual, up close and personal confrontation with a deer, turkey, or rabbit.
I practiced every day after work and amassed hunting gear from Cabela’s, Sportsman’s, and smaller local shops. The rise of online shopping was already underway in 2008. Living remotely, this served me well.
Gorging myself on YouTube hunting videos and gear, I blasted through arrows left and right, while becoming a regular at the local archery pro shop in Vernal.
After buying my first Mossy Oak ballcap, jacket, and pants at the local Basin Sports, there really wasn’t much more to do.
I only needed to get in on the next hunter’s ed course.
Luckily, there was a class that was starting soon in nearby Roosevelt. Without missing a beat, I got signed up for the three-week course.
At age 36, I was by far the oldest student in the class. I felt like Billy Madison going “
I aced the tests, rocked my shooting test, got my patches, and hunter ed cert. I was now licensed and ready to put meat on the table!
An Adult-Onset Hunter is Born
Utah spring turkey was the first game season open after completing hunter ed, and would be my first season hunting anything. Buzzing with excitement, it was hard to maintain.
Continuing with my archery practice, I also worked on my box and slate calls. With years of experience imitating owl and other bird calls with my voice, I figured it would be second nature.
I satiated my appetite with turkey, deer, and elk hunting videos from the good-natured Primos guys. I blazed roads and trails all over my little NE corner. Up and down and across the upper half of Utah, I scouted for the next few months.
This was proving to be challenging. In all my wildlife work, I had never even seen a damn turkey in the wild. How was I going to find one to hunt!?
I saw some gorgeous country but did not see much turkey sign or activity. With the season now looming just a week away, I finally got smart and called people who would know best—the National Wild Turkey Federation (NWTF). A NWTF biologist from the region gave this first timer some great tips where to begin looking.
I took his advice to heart.
My First Hunt
Opening day, Derrick and I took off at 3 a.m. to hit some areas we identified. Man, the excitement was thick!
We spent the morning cruising around and scouting on the fly. We actually saw a couple of toms. However, they were in a large yard in a rural neighborhood and were basically un-huntable. Derrick even asked the guy that owned the place, but it was a no-go.
So, we headed off to one of the canyons I had gotten the NWTF intel on. We got into a major flock as we turned onto the road leading into the canyon. We were surrounded by about 75 birds of the white, domestic variety. Eh . . . a sign??
Just for
That was about to change.
And Then There Were Thunder-Chickens
Derrick had taken off, but I stayed behind to camp and scout more of the area the next day. There was a feeling about this canyon.
I headed down the gated-off road at first light. After getting about 200 yards down it, I caught movement out of the corner of my right eye. I came to a dead stop. It was so far up the semi-open hillside, I have no idea how I saw it.
Easily three-quarters of a mile from where I was on the gravel road, I saw the little black blobs. As my focus narrowed, more began to pop-out from the landscape from behind little shrubs and under spindly trees.
As I made a move for the binos around my neck, one of the black blobs began, a clumsy, funky-chicken run that was part flying, part running. Then they all followed suit, running down the slope towards the creek into the cover of the dense shrubbery.
I was in shock that I was actually seeing turkeys in the wild! It took a minute for the realization to set in. Then a big smile broke across my face. I texted Derrick and let him know he better get back up there tomorrow.
Derrick arrived bright and early the next day. However, the birds did not. I had set up my blind across the creek, where I had found sign. We did some calling there for a couple of hours. After that failed to produce, we moved around to some other areas up and down the creek. Still nada.
I was beside myself. Derrick had to take off again, but not before ribbing and giving me a skeptical eye about whether I truly saw birds. I did, I swear!
A Second Chance
Luckily for me, the turkeys showed back up about 9 a.m. the next morning.
Sitting in my blind in a meadow glassing the hillside, the deer were starting to come out for their morning feeding. One jumped awkwardly to the side and I thought that was strange. Scanning further to the right I saw why.
Once again about mid-way up the hillside, fifteen birds came cruising in single file. They were on the same game trail the deer was on. Here comes the turkey train! The train consisted of 11 hens, 3 jakes, and a HUGE boss tom. Probably the biggest bird I’ve seen to date. He was enormous and beautiful.
If I knew then what I know now, I would’ve used the terrain and moved in on them much more aggressively. I probably could’ve sealed the deal. However, through my newbie eyes I was way too worried about blowing it and was way too conservative with my movements.
I spent another three days moving up the hillside and positioning my blind in different areas. If I could just intercept them along their general path, I would be close enough to call the tom in. I set my blind up in a new location and had bivvied out in it, ready for them to show up the next day.
On the last morning I would see them, I emerged from my blind an hour after first light. Calling had once again failed. I was moving slow on hands and knees, crawling with my bow. As I crested a small, grassy knoll, there they were about 80 yards from me. I stopped dead in my tracks and gasped. Shit!
The tom was strutting hard and they were paying me no mind. I backed down very, very slowly, waiting to move when it seemed like eyes were not on me.
I made my way to the blind which was only 30 or 40 yards from me and proceeded to throw every call at the big boy I could muster. Nothing. He was henned up and could care less about the “mouthy chick” just over the knoll.
I made one last move. Circling around wide and above their location, I stayed out of eye-shot. When I got to where they should’ve been, they were no longer there. That was it. I blew it. Game over man.
I spent two more days there. When it became obvious I blew my chance, I packed up and explored some new ground. The only thing that produced was more disappointment.
As it turns out, I did not bag a bird my first season. But man, it was a great first hunt. I had some great action and the experience was burned in me.
Reflecting on my first hunt, I recalled the biologist telling me it took him fifteen years to get his first turkey. I thought, “No way that will happen to me.”
Nope. Instead, it would take me eleven.
So Many Curves, So Little Time
When you take up hunting as an adult, the learning curve can be steep. From 1997 to 2012 my wildlife work took me all over the west.
It took me to the right kind of places and the exact types of situations to foster interest and give access to game. Total immersion. However, this isn’t everyone’s situation.
As we get older and become more entrenched in working a 9 to 5 and raising families—there just isn’t a lot of free time for all the hunting we’d like to do. When I started, I was still a single man with plenty of time to dedicate to learning and making mistakes. This is good, because I got through much of the beginner trial and error before my wife, Sara, and I got together.
I had taken plenty of small game; rabbits, grouse, etc. However, I didn’t get my first big game animal until the year we got together. That is five years after I started hunting.
Now, most years I put meat in the freezer for our family. It is a part of our lifestyle and Sara’s my good luck charm. I also get to pass that knowledge on to my son, now that he’s getting to the age where he can focus.
Depending on your situation, finding a mentor or even paying for some guided hunts can be very worthwhile. Your mentor or guide can teach you things that can shave years off of trial and error.
There are many resources out there to help the budding adult-onset hunter. One thing to remember in this digital age: Learning to hunt is an experiential activity. Videos, forums, and research are great.
But eventually, you must get out and feel the wind in your face, the crunch of the earth beneath your boots, and the sting of defeat after putting in everything you’ve got.
You must make your own mistakes and learn from them to improve and eventually be successful. There is no substitute for that. Persistence is essential!
Becoming an adult-onset hunter is a life journey and an extension of who I am. I can share that with my family and provide lean, healthy meat while creating memories around the campfire and dinner table.
Are you one of the thousands that are afflicted with AOH? Tell us what age and how you got started below!