Why We Hunt — The Real Reasons We Keep Showing Up
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We’re stepping away from tactics today—and getting into something deeper. Something more personal.
Because if you’ve followed me for any amount of time, you know I talk a lot about elk, mule deer, scouting, training, and mental toughness. But underneath all of that is a simple question that matters more than any tag, any gear list, or any backcountry plan:
Why do we hunt?
Why do I keep showing up—year after year, decade after decade—dragging my boots through the dirt, grinding it out in steep timber, and living for those early mornings and late nights in the wild?
This isn’t a hype video. This isn’t about tactics. This is about what keeps me going, and why hunting is more than just a lifestyle—it’s a responsibility, a calling, and one of the most honest things I’ve ever known.
In this blog, I’m walking you through why I hunt—from food and conservation, to heritage and purpose, and what it’s taught me about life, loss, and who I want to be.
Let’s get into it.
It Starts with Food — And It Always Will
A lot of people talk about hunting as a challenge, a tradition, or even a sport. Sure—those things are part of it. But for me, it’s always started with one thing: food. Clean, earned, honest food that means something.
Growing up, wild game wasn’t a luxury or a novelty. It was just what we ate. Elk, deer, antelope—it went into the freezer and fed us all year. Nothing wasted. Nothing taken for granted.
And decades later, it’s even more personal.
When I hunt, it’s not about stacking racks or chasing inches. It’s about putting real meat on the table that I harvested with my own hands. It’s one of the only things left in the world that connects you directly to what you eat.
Most people have no idea where their food comes from. They grab something wrapped in plastic and never think about the feedlot, the chemicals, the waste, the transport, the cost of sanitizing the whole process so they never see the truth.
But when you kill an elk—when you skin it, quarter it, pack it out, and process it yourself—you are face-to-face with reality. You’re stepping into a role humans have held for thousands of years. And you’re taking responsibility for the life you’re taking.
I don’t enjoy taking a life. I don’t celebrate the moment. But if you’re going to eat meat, you should understand what that means.
People ask, “How can you kill something like that?”
My answer is always the same:
How can you eat something without knowing where it came from?
There’s a depth of gratitude that comes from harvesting your own meat that you cannot explain to someone who hasn’t done it. When I open my freezer and see backstrap or stew meat, I don’t just see dinner. I see the trail I hiked. The weather. The moment I found the herd. The shot. The pack-out. The work. The meaning.
It’s a value system. A lifestyle. A choice to do things the hard way because the hard way matters.
I’ve never regretted filling the freezer with wild game. I’ve never taken that moment lightly. And I’ve never forgotten the responsibility that comes with it.
That’s the foundation of why I hunt. And it always will be.
Next, we go deeper—because hunting and conservation aren’t separate. They are tied together more tightly than most people realize.
Hunting Is Conservation — Why We Protect What We’re Part Of
If hunting starts with food, it continues with conservation.
Not the feel-good marketing kind. Real conservation. On-the-ground conservation. The kind that restores migration corridors, protects winter range, funds habitat projects, and keeps wildlife populations healthy.
Here’s a truth not enough people understand:
Hunters are the backbone of wildlife conservation in North America.
Every tag I buy funds wildlife management.
Every license supports research, habitat work, and land access.
Every time I choose to hunt ethically, I contribute to the balance of ecosystems that cannot manage themselves.
The North American Model of Wildlife Conservation—one of the most successful systems in the world—was built by hunters and is funded by hunters. The Pittman-Robertson Act alone has generated billions for conservation.
That money:
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Builds water sources in the desert
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Protects winter range
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Restores habitat
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Studies disease
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Funds population surveys
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Maintains public access
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Supports species recovery
And it’s been happening for more than a century.
Hunting and conservation aren’t opposites. They depend on each other.
Urban sprawl, habitat loss, invasive species, wildfire mismanagement, disease, and overpopulation all threaten wildlife far more than ethical hunting ever will. Good management takes science, money, and action—not hashtags or outrage.
When I hunt, I’m not taking from the land. I’m investing in it.
I want my kids to hear bugles in the timber.
I want them to walk the same trails I’ve walked.
I want them to stand on a ridge and know what it feels like to be part of something bigger than themselves.
That only happens if we protect what we’re part of.
Hunters are not just consumers—we are stewards. We are protectors. And for a lot of us, we are some of the loudest, most committed advocates wildlife has ever had.
Up next, we take it one step further—into the personal side of this lifestyle. The part that shapes who we are.
Connection, Grit, and Legacy — What Hunting Has Given Me
We’ve talked about food.
We’ve talked about conservation.
But there’s one more reason I hunt—one that’s harder to explain but easier to feel:
Hunting connects me to who I am.
Not just as a provider. Not just as a conservationist. But as a father, a husband, a coach, and a human being trying to live with intention in a world that moves too fast.
In the mountains—before the sun rises, before the world wakes up—everything becomes honest. You remember what matters.
Hunting strips away the noise: the stress, the distractions, the comparison, the modern pace that feels impossible to keep up with.
Out there, it’s simple.
Earn it.
Respect it.
Show up.
Hunting has taught me more about grit and resilience than almost anything else:
Want to learn patience?
Sit on a ridge for days watching wind ruin every opportunity.
Want to learn preparation?
Go ten miles deep knowing that if you blow your only chance, you start over.
Want to learn discipline?
Work all year so when that one moment comes, you are ready.
Want to learn humility?
Blow the perfect stalk and hike out in the dark, still knowing you’ll show up again tomorrow.
And then there’s the legacy—the part that goes beyond the hunt.
I hunt because I want my kids to know how to work.
To know discomfort. To know responsibility.
To know where their food comes from.
To understand reverence, respect, and gratitude.
To understand that taking a life isn’t just about killing—it’s about being accountable for your choices.
I want them to see that the hard path is the meaningful one. That nature is not something to fear—but to honor. That suffering can be sacred. That gratitude is a way of life.
Hunting has shaped me. It has grounded me. It has made me a better man, a better father, and a more resilient human being.
And I’ll keep doing this until my body won’t let me anymore—not because I need to, but because I believe in what it gives back.
TEAM BACKBONE — A Community Built on Purpose
This lifestyle has given me a lot over the last 30+ years. But more than anything else, it’s reminded me who I am.
It’s taught me how to provide.
How to respect the land and animals.
How to show up when no one’s watching.
How to earn the things that matter.
That’s why I created TEAM BACKBONE.
It’s not just a membership. It’s a movement—for hunters who train for the mountain, who live with purpose, and who want more from their gear, their community, and themselves.
As a member, you get:
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20% off site-wide
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A Backbone shirt mailed monthly
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Full access to the digital vault—mindset training, gear prep, fitness programming, strategy, and more
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A private Facebook group with direct access to me
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Monthly gear giveaways
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First access to new drops
If this message resonates—if you’re tired of surface-level content and want real community and real guidance—I invite you to join us.
You don’t have to do this alone.
You just have to show up.
TRAIN HARDER. HUNT SMARTER. NEVER SETTLE. — MATT HARTSKY