A River Runs Through It

Spending the long weekend at my family’s ranch house, I really had time to reflect on a man’s interest in fishing. My brother, dad and even mom have this passion for fishing- something I do not understand. Growing up, I have always loved to hunt instead. I enjoyed spending this quality time with my dad and learning an infinite amount of information about the sport. In my family, hunting is a way of life. My brother, sister and I all know how to score a white tail deer, what signs to read from a deer’s body language, and how to shoot a gun. Unfortunately, being the oldest caused me to lose the “first deer” competition. I was seven years old when I had the privilege of two streaks of blood on my face (the universal sign of shooting ones first deer), my sister was six and my brother was only four. The most prominent memories of my childhood are set around either a camp fire or deer stands and are covered in camouflage.

When I try to explain this life to my girlfriends, their approval is impossible. Eyes widen at the idea that I have killed 30+ innocent animals and most cannot begin to grasp the idea that my family traveled all the way to Africa to take home the trophies of two warthogs, one eland, two red heartabeasts, two wildabeats, one impala, and one zebra (my kill). Before our discussion of a river runs through it, I could not even explain to myself my passion for the sport.

When Dr. Williams asked the question of the importance of fishing, my only explanation was, “It is just what boys like.” Creating the connection between fishing and religion was humorous in my mind. Religion is about God and faith, and fishing is nothing more than bait and a pole. This class discussion brought up the idea that fishing is a form of communication for men. And now, I agree that this generalization is spot on.

Men have trouble communicating as is. From my experience, I have concluded that they would rather be in physical pain then talk about their emotions. This is why men gravitate towards certain hobbies. A group of men fishing together are able to communicate by solely talking about the means of catching the biggest fish. Men sitting around a campfire can talk for hours about their best hunting stories. Emotions are never directly conveyed in these situations, but bonds are somehow still created. This contrasts to how a woman builds a friendship; instead, she must receive and input advice on emotional struggles. Saturday college football is able to create this manly relationship, as well. Placing bets on who is going to win and by how many points creates endless possibilities for conversation. All male fans of the same team have this connection that is only surface level from a woman’s point of view.

It is this communication factor that is most important in my love for the sport of deer hunting. Hunting is the way that I learn from my dad. Through hunting, I was able to learn about my father’s pasts and his mindset on all factors of life. Over time, my father and I have learned to communicate my way, too. He can share with me his opinions and the direction he desires my life to go. But this weekend, we went back to his communication structure. My family all pulled back our bows towards a central hay bell. Though our complete attention was on the object in front, we were sharing this passion and love between each other as well. I do not think anything could make my father more proud than watching all of his loves shattering clay pigeons with an arrow. 

In “A River Runs Through It,” the male form of communication was fishing. Words did not have to be said for the dad and his two sons to share their lives together. Now I can understand why men love to hunt, fish and watch football. Though not my primary form of communication, I can adjust to talk to all of the men in my life.