The lady was a casual acquaintance asking a question that truly seemed important to her. I smiled and said I had been doing it since I was a kid and that I really enjoyed it. She smiled but I could see she didn't understand and vaguely felt sorry for me. The conversation twisted in other directions and soon was but a memory. Her question and my answer often come back to me when I put down a book or stare into a fire. Why do I hunt and fish and often think of trapping again?

Could it be the memories of my father and long gone friends sharing a day of fellowship?

Could it be all the books and articles and magazines and catalogues and plans laid to make the next trip as good as can be?

Could it be the sunrises and sunsets and wild weather that composed a canvas worthy of Renoir?

Could it be the guns and shooting and the smell of gun oil in the evening?

Could it be all the dogs I have known and hunted over?

Could it be all the little things like trying a heron confidence decoy or making a gun holder for the gunwale of the canoe?

Could it be a natural continuance of owning old decoys made by master carvers for hunters or trading old shotguns whose beauty and function evoke a bygone era of craftsmanship and pride?

Could it be just a natural association with the fascination for ice fishing decoys or all of the various traps used over the centuries?

Could it be just one more excuse to get up early and see the sunrise and spend the entire day afield poking around rivers and marshes and woods and fields like some mink scurrying down a stream and sticking its nose in every hole it comes to?

Could it be the evenings in the midst of all sorts of hunting equipment making hundreds of snow goose decoys that will mean getting up even earlier to put out decoys and even later to pick them up after a day of cold and wind and hopefully a few birds?

Birds? Mink? When I think of hunting and fishing and trapping, the critters involved are merely a part of it. By merely, I don't mean they are a small part but that they are but one of many. The mystery and fascination of what we call sport could not exist without them and like hunters and fishermen from time immemorial, neither could I.