There are those who decry the annual hunting season on Manitoulin Island, characterizing it as an inhuman blood sport geared solely on the boasting rights inherent in a big rack trophy on the rec room wall.
Each season, The Expositor finds itself in the sights of those who oppose hunting and being excoriated for covering, and even encouraging, the hunting and killing of God’s gentle creatures. Usually, but not always, these folks are transplants to rural living—used to hunter-gathering their groceries at the local supermarket or through online delivery services.
Certainly, the boasting rights inherent in a successful hunt are part and parcel of the experience, but for many Islanders, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, the annual hunt is an opportunity to fill the larder with a healthy store of protein. There is a reason that hunting is a right enshrined in the treaty rights of First Nations and other Indigenous peoples—it is far more than just a “sport.”
For Indigenous peoples, hunting is an integral part of the culture and lifestyle, one that non-Indigenous governments have long tried to suppress in an effort to separate the people from their traditional interactions with the land and to force those communities into a more settled and agrarian lifestyle. Much of the rationale for those efforts comes from the self-serving propaganda of colonial governments seeking to find land for incoming settlers—ignoring the fact that most Indigenous communities on Turtle Island were primarily agrarian in nature.
Corn, beans and squash are the “Three Sisters” that formed the cornerstone of Indigenous diets and, along with fishing and hunting, sustained Indigenous peoples for countless generations.
Hunting is also an important part of Northern Ontario culture for non-Indigenous peoples as well, albeit one that has faded somewhat as they have become ever more separated from the land and the source of their sustenance.
For both cultures, hunting is a rite of passage, where older generations bond with succeeding generations to reaffirm those weakening bonds with the land.
In a time when the eyes of our youth are increasingly focused on the small screens in the palm of their hands and less and less on the world around them, hunting and fishing provide opportunities to get out in the fresh air and communicate with those around them in a meaningful way.
While primarily a male-dominated activity, it is true, hunting is not limited to only those of the male gender. There are plenty of Island women who take to the hunting camp each season as well—and not just to cook!
For many Island landowners, particularly farmers whose constant struggles with a livelihood that depends upon the vagaries of the environment, the annual hunting season provides a welcome source of income that helps offset continually rising property taxes.
Finally, there is a certain hubris in our advanced Western societies that suggests that the technologies that sustain our otherwise unsustainable existence, with huge concentrations of our populations piled storey upon storey in urban centres that produce no food yet consume immense amounts of vegetable, meat and fish each and every day, will continue unabated. Hunting passes on survival skills that, should the unthinkable come to pass and humanity’s seemingly growing insanity destroys the very technologies that sustain us, will once again come into their own.
Hunting in Northern Ontario is far more than “just a sport,” it is an integral part of our joint heritage and provides an important connection to the land in a world where those connections are becoming more and more tenuous. It must be conducted in a manner that protects our natural resources for seven generations into the future and beyond, but it must remain protected as part of our Northern identity.
We may be Canadian, but when it comes to supporting hunting, we offer no apology. Sorry—not sorry!
