The Bear Necessities of Minding Your Own Business

What is this? The Sin Bin is The Valley Signal's advice column for people who don't deserve it. The sin bin is the penalty box, where you go when you've screwed up. You write in with the mess you've made of your life, or your neighbor's, and Sully tells you what you already know but you're too soft to admit. No soft problems. No participation trophies. No closure. Every story has a pylon, the useless person standing there while the play moves around them. If you can't spot yours, it's you. Keep it short or get benched, and send it to [email protected].

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Dear Sully: I come seeking your years of wisdom and steady hand.

On a recent autumn afternoon, I was having lunch with a friend when I made the tactical mistake of saying the word "hunting" out loud. I thought I was speaking at normal restaurant volume. Apparently I had rung the dinner bell for a nearby stranger who had been quietly circling our conversation like a shark in readers.

Before I knew it, I was getting the full finger-wagging lecture about how hunting is morally bankrupt, barbaric, unnecessary, and probably responsible for every bad thing since dial-up internet.

Now, I am not a monster. I hunt because I like being outside, I like knowing where my food comes from, and I like filling the freezer with something that did not spend its life shrink-wrapped in a warehouse cooler. My friend and I tried to explain this. What followed was a spirited debate, by which I mean an hour of a woman who moved here from somewhere expensive explaining morality to people eating lunch.

The highlight came when she mentioned that she recently left her garage open and accidentally gave a family of bears access to a food source. I gently pointed out that this was not exactly a triumph for wildlife ethics, since food-conditioned bears tend to end up on the wrong side of Idaho Fish and Game.

This did not seem to land.

So, Sully, what are we supposed to do with people who think hunting is Satanic but feeding bears out of the garage is just an adorable whoopsie? How should those of us who hunt, eat what we kill, and try not to turn the neighborhood into a bear buffet handle the lecture circuit when it pulls up to the next table?

Hunting for Answers in Driggs

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Dear Hunting for Answers,

Buddy, you went out for lunch and accidentally attended a TED Talk delivered by a woman whose garage is apparently operating as an unauthorized wildlife feeding station.

That's a tough Tuesday.

First, congratulations on finding someone who believes harvesting an elk for meat is a moral catastrophe but running a complimentary breakfast buffet for bears is a charming little misunderstanding.

That's some impressive intellectual gymnastics. You could put a leotard on that argument and send it to the Olympics.

But before we hand you the Stanley Cup for winning an argument nobody asked you to have, we gotta discuss something.

You spent an hour arguing with a stranger about hunting.

An hour.

Sixty minutes defending an activity that is legal, regulated, culturally established, and older than the concept of a restaurant.

You could have eaten your lunch. Had another beah. Gone home. Instead, you entered the intellectual equivalent of a faceoff against somebody who brought a tennis racket.

Now, about our visiting wildlife philosopher.

There's a particular species of Teton Valley resident who moves here because they love nature, then becomes furious when nature behaves like nature.

They love the elk. They love the bears. They love the wolves. They love the idea of living somewhere wild.

What they don't love is the fact that wild animals have been doing things to one another that would get a documentary banned from a kindergarten classroom.

They want wilderness with the settings adjusted.

No hunting. No unpleasant population management. No consequences for leaving the garage open.

Just majestic creatures wandering through their personal screensaver, preferably while they sip something organic.

Here's the problem.

Wildlife management doesn't operate on whether an animal makes you feel warm and fuzzy. Legal, responsible hunting helps manage wildlife populations, supports conservation funding, and puts food on the table.

You don't have to hunt. You don't even have to like hunting.

But if you're going to lecture somebody about wildlife ethics, you might want to make sure you haven't turned your garage into a bear-themed Golden Corral.

Because teaching bears that human food is available can lead to dangerous encounters, and those encounters can end with a dead bear.

That's not a political opinion. That's what happens when you teach a large predator that the neighborhood has room service.

Now, our garage-based conservationist is the obvious candidate for the pylon award.

But you, my friend, are making a late push for the trophy.

When a stranger interrupts your lunch to tell you you're a bad person for hunting, you have exactly one obligation.

None.

You don't owe her a debate, an explanation of wildlife management, or an hour of airtime on the Hunting Ethics Roundtable.

You can simply say, "I appreciate your opinion, but I'm having lunch with my friend."

And go back to your sandwich.

I know. Revolutionary stuff.

Somewhere along the way, Americans decided every unsolicited opinion requires a rebuttal and every disagreement is a championship bout.

It doesn't. And it isn't.

Sometimes the most devastating response to a finger-wagging stranger is demonstrating that you have absolutely no interest in what they think.

Let her dislike hunting. That's her business.

Let her explain it to somebody who asked. That's their problem.

And if she's attracting bears with unsecured food, she should probably take that up with Idaho Fish and Game before somebody else has to.

Meanwhile, keep hunting responsibly, filling the freezer, and enjoying the outdoors.

The mountains are big enough for hunters, hikers, birdwatchers, wildlife photographers, and even people who think bears understand the concept of a plant-based diet.

At least for now.

We should probably enjoy all this wide-open space while we can. If the proposed 14-field baseball empire in Tetonia ever gets built, we'll have 200 traveling baseball teams, a concession stand every quarter mile, and somebody from Scottsdale explaining why the elk are interfering with the tournament schedule.

Suddenly, a stranger lecturing you over lunch doesn't sound so bad.

We don't all have to agree. We just have to stop treating the guy at the next table like he's appearing before a congressional committee.

And for the love of God, close the garage door.

Sully's Verdict: She's feeding the bears. You're feeding the argument. Both of you need to stop putting food out for things that won't leave you alone.