Public

FIELD NOTE No. 019

I grew up hunting private ground.

You knew your spot.
I knew mine.

I’ll leave your memories alone.
You leave mine alone.

There was safety in that.

Then land started selling, dividing and leasing.

Private access became something you could lose.

Or buy.

Hunters will spend plenty on comfort, gear and everything surrounding the hunt.

But leases climb fast.

So eventually you start looking at public ground.

It belongs to everybody.

Which is exactly the problem.

You scout.

You find the funnel.

You figure out the wind, the access and the tree.

You start imagining the morning before it ever happens.

Then a headlamp appears.

For about five seconds, that guy is an idiot.

What the hell is he doing?

Then you remember.

He probably studied the same map.

He probably found the same funnel.

He probably has no idea you’re there.

You thought you found your spot.

He thought he found his.

That missing information matters for more than annoyance.

It matters for safety.

And it makes public hunting a strange exercise in courtesy between people who often don’t know the other person exists.

You can scout a place for ten hours and still have no greater claim to it than the guy who walked in that morning.

That’s not unfair.

That’s what public means.

Please leave my memories alone.

I’ll try to do the same with yours.

— Esker