The Offering

By Jennifer Welch

I was recently visited by a dear friend – the kind of friend who swoops in with a bottle of whiskey in hand and leaves you feeling more connected with your sense of being than when he arrived. On this particular visit, he happened to be in town the night before my first-ever hunting season opened. We sat long into the night and talked about farming and hunting and various other things. I mentioned that I was a little nervous about walking into the woods and taking a life. And that is when he began to tell me about the Ainu.

The Ainu are ancient people of Japan. They valued the sacredness of the whole ecosystem and maintained deeply rooted beliefs in the spiritual realm. They believed that every living thing contributed to the peace and harmony present in the whole ecosystem, allowing it to thrive on both a physical and spiritual level. When the Ainu hunted, they believed that an animal would present itself to them, allowing itself to be killed. They would then praise the animal with a celebration of song and dance. This presentation would make the animal’s spirit happy, and it would continue to return, year after year, to offer itself up to the hunter. I fell asleep that night wondering if an animal would offer herself up to me during my hunt, and if I would sing to her flesh as I later consumed it.

I awoke early and slipped into the dark not wanting to wake my family as I dressed. I grabbed the long blade we had sharpened on the whetstone the night before, the rifle we had carefully sighted in and two bullets, just in case. I walked out under the full moon and made my way to a preplanned destination in the midst of several deer trails heading toward the river. I sat quietly and patiently until the sun came over Midland Hill, but I did not see any deer. I headed off for a short walk to see if I could catch any signs, but I found none. Lucky to be hunting on my own property, I made my way home for a hot breakfast. I stayed with the kids until the morning farm chores had been done, then went back out to see what the afternoon might lead to.

I headed north in the thick brush of the piñon forest and almost immediately spotted a deer. She was lying near a rock and the only part I could see were her ears. She caught my scent quickly and moved off. I trailed her for a little while, still heading north, but lost her near a neighbor’s house. Not wanting to shoot in the direction of the neighbor’s yard, I backed off and headed slightly further west. I dropped into a wash and quickly found two more deer – monstrous does, in fact – that heard me all too soon and ran off. Being close to the edge of private property, I decided to turn back again, this time for lunch and a nap.

My final outing of the day began a few hours before sunset. I had decided to head north again in search of deer slowly grazing their way to the river. But rather quickly I decided that there were no deer in this area. I walked from the northern boundary of the neighborhood all the way to the southern boundary in the direction of the wind. I walked quickly, knowing I wouldn’t come across any deer, if they caught my scent and ran. Once I reached the southern boundary, I headed east toward the railroad tracks to see if I could get a good view. After not seeing anything for almost two hours, I decided to walk north again toward the house by way of the long driveway. As I walked in plain sight, I came upon a doe just ahead of the last fork in the road. I dropped to the ground and remained still, hoping she hadn’t seen me. I propped my knees up and steadied my rifle. I was too wobbly – I knew I wouldn’t make the shot. I stood up slowly and moved toward her. I crossed the fork in the road and made my way to a giant boulder that sat between us. As I peered into the brush near where I first saw her, I looked to the west assuming she had moved. I couldn’t see her. I looked back to the original spot she was standing in and was surprised to find her still there. I couldn’t have been more than 35 yards from her at this point and as I looked at her, I knew. She was not afraid, she was not nervous. She looked directly at me and that was it. She offered herself up to me, and the noblest thing I could do was to oblige. She dropped immediately. It was a good death.

I sat quietly with her for a few minutes and thanked her. I was slightly amazed that I did not cry as I had fully expected that to be a part of my very first hunt. I harvested her meat as the sun dropped below the mountains and folded the hide for later preservation. My husband and children helped me carry it back to the house. My daughter hugged me and told me she was very proud of her mom, the hunter. As I dropped the heart into a brine, I no longer felt nervous about the idea of walking into the woods and taking a life. Later, we sliced the heart and fried it in sweet cream butter. Then we danced and sang and made music together, in appreciation of the offering from the doe. I hope we have sent her spirit off peacefully, perchance to see her again another year.