By the time he got a clear shot near tree line at 12,000 feet, Bobby had been running with the herd for five miles. He had picked them up low—below the south ridge of Mt. Columbia, 10-15 miles northwest of Buena Vista—and climbed 3,000 feet with them, working hard to get ahead of the elk and position himself for a shot. He had put in hours upon hours that week, hunting in the early mornings and in the evenings while teaching during the day at the Link School, an alternative high school for Christian Science teens, which Bobby founded this year. The Link School’s curriculum embraces experiential learning, and this fall Bobby took out a number of students on hunting expeditions as part of a sustainable food curriculum that also included local gardening.

The story Bobby told me about how he came to be a hunter resonated deeply with me. “I had eaten vegetarian for five years,” Bobby told me. He wanted to start eating meat again, but he wanted to experience first hand the gratitude and responsibility of taking an animal’s life. “I started 10 years ago to take on the responsibility of getting meat.” Over the past decade Bobby has hunted a lot of elk. He’s had many tags, and he’s always filled them.

But Bobby is no sportsman. He hunts for the same reason humans have for tens of thousands of years—because he wants and needs meat. Of course Bobby could head down to the grocery store and pick up a cellophane-wrapped steak any day of the week, but like me, his ethics prohibit that.

So often we hear the word used as a verb in its present participle form: “hunting.” But Bobby’s story conjured for me “the hunt” as a noun, with all its primal associations. “Hunting elk is not so demanding with a big rifle and scope in the meadows,” Bobby told me. “Hunting high with a bow or black powder is more demanding.”

By the time Bobby got a clear shot with his old model 94 .30-30, he was 40 feet from the herd in dense alpine fir. He described “the rush of trying to get in position… running to stay with the herd.” On several occasions he would get in position, but something would be off, his shot would not be clear, and the herd would go by. “By time you get a good shot, the rush of working that hard, the excitement drives it, and you do what you’re there to do. I’d been working for hours to get a shot, and they came by at a run. I’ve got some Marine Corps years under my belt, and instinct drives it at that point. I shot the lead bull, and he dropped. The rest of the herd went by. And it hits you then. There’s this big, beautiful animal in front of you, breathing out. Is it the right thing?” Bobby wondered. “Look at this animal I just killed. It is not an easy question for me. I love the work, the excitement, the beauty of hunting. But I’m still not sure if it was the right thing. It’s really hard for me to take an animal’s life. I’m still not fully resolved on the question.”

It was an honor to have Bobby share this story with me. He brings to hunting everything I could hope to: respect, humility, honor for the animal and a deep sense of responsibility in taking its life. The dedication and athleticism of his hunt are so impressive to me. Yes, Bobby had the advantage of firepower, but to run with the herd like that somehow takes the playing field and levels it considerably. The image evokes for me a sense that Bobby somehow revived in that hunt an equality between man and beast.

All told, Bobby brought home over 200 pounds of meat after he and seven of his students had field dressed and butchered the 600-700 pound, 5X5 bull. But one thing he did not bring home were pictures. “I don’t shoot photos,” says Bobby. “I’m not into the man conquers beast sort of thing.” While Bobby points out that many hunt elk for the rack, he’s in it for one thing: the meat. And for that reason, he told me, the “ethics of hunting cow elk is better.” Bobby is still conflicted about his bull elk kill this season. He did not keep the head as a trophy. All he kept were the antlers, which he mounted.

* * *

If you’ve made it this far, you may wonder how this story relates to South Main. I can only answer by telling you that I live in South Main out of deep respect for the land. I believe that a neighborhood like South Main represents the most responsible way in which we can build and live in community, consuming minimal land area, reducing gasoline consumption, etc. And the way in which I eat also has deep implications for our planet and its health. I live in a place where deer and elk are plentiful enough to be a sustainable—probably the most sustainable—source of the protein and nutrition which meat provides. For the same reasons I have a garden in my yard and support our local food producers, I will hunt next season. And if I am lucky, I will do so at Bobby Lewis’s side.

Photo Credit


Each month South Main sends out an eUpdate which features new articles for and about the local Buena Vista community. To subscribe, please visit our contact us page.