The Happy Hunting Grounds
Around us always
Denny Murawska
My best male friend and former student, Zack Stanley, just shared a video with me on Facebook. Not my brand of music, but the lyrics and video itself were captivating. Images showed a group of folks either on the last day of their lives, or in the process of dying and reflecting on their lives. Bad circumstances, bad endings. Part way through, a crowd seems drawn to a glowing hole in the ground. They enter one end as they were, and emerge transformed. Okay, let’s say heaven. It is a moving production.
Tree stands and fishing boats give one many opportunities to ponder life, its end, and the hereafter. In Native American cultures, we often hear of a belief in the “Happy Hunting Grounds.” While some evidence supports this concept, other sources do not. Many, many tribes existed before the white invasion, and their beliefs were as varied as the wildflowers on the plains. In fact, for some, the afterlife was viewed as a continuation of one’s present life. The concept of Hell did not exist. I must concur, especially as one who has lived the outdoors life as hunter, fisherman, and forager. What evil could I possibly do in one lifetime that would sentence me to eternal torment? On the other hand, eternal bliss even seems like it would get old, say after a million years more or less.
So, if we do pass to the Happy Hunting Grounds, do we do so as we were when death overtook us? Would we be transformed into our youthful peak of prowess? Would our hunting endeavors be without challenge, roaming a land filled with ever-abundant game? Would all our shots be unerring? This is hard to comprehend. Where is the thrill if all needs are fulfilled? If there is no challenge, where is the joy of success? The struggles of life and figuring out how to survive them allow our appreciation.
I suppose it is all Yin and Yang. A warm campfire has no meaning unless you have been bitten by the cold. The taste of hunted and gathered food has no flavor without the arduous process of obtaining it and experiencing true hunger. Is this part of what makes a shore lunch seem like the best meal you ever ate?
Years ago I wrote a poem about a man with similar convictions. Yes, it is a bit trite, but still bears presenting.
Walleye Bill
I am a lazy old lug they say
Loafing and dreaming, fishing most days
You say I runnin’ from reality
Mister, what’s real for you ain’t real for me
You see, I’ve been livin’ all these years
Life for me ain’t no veil of tears
I know there’s a Maker, just don’t know his name
Yet take time to ponder the whisper of rain
So I’ll take a boat, some flopping fish and beer
Can’t be no better place than here.
It would be nice if there was something like a Happy Hunting Ground, but like most, I doubt it. Ditto for the realm of eternal damnation. You can come close to Hell though if you have hunted grouse for very long. I would love to see all my hunting partners, human and animal again. After these many years of life, my only realization remains that, on a good day in the outdoors, I have walked hallowed ground. Heaven is right here.
Denny Murawska has been publishing his works since high school. His outdoor columns have appeared in The Week news for many years, as well as Wishigan Midwest Outdoors, and the wacky UP magazine. His church is the pine cathedral gracing our unique Driftless Area he calls home. Owner and operator of Angler’s Art Fish Taxidermy at www.aa-taxidermy.com