| What I’ve Learned | « Back |
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Author: By Jeff Davis
Source: Whitetails Unlimited Magazine
The more I learn, the more I realize how little I know.
I’ve learned a lot of things in my life. Some of it was on purpose; much of it was by accident. Some of those things were like a slap in the face, while other things came to me slowly—sometimes taking years. And I’m sure I’ve failed to learn many things I should have, and I’m still making some of my same old mistakes.
I’ve always liked to learn things, and while my head is chock-full of useless stuff, there is also a section up there that contains a useful assemblage of information—when I choose to access it. You see, one of the things I’ve learned is that having the answer to a problem is useful only if you choose to dig it out of your skull and use it. I can still remember the quadratic equation, and I’ve never used it since I finished my last algebra test almost 50 years ago. However, I find that every so often, cross multiplying a ratio is very useful to me to solve a particular problem, but it always takes me a couple of tries to get the numbers in the right places to do it correctly.
While that example of what is kicking around in my noggin is pretty specific and involves exact things, much more important and ambiguous are the things that deal with people, life, and the social constructs that bind us all together.
But, why is all of this being presented in the pages of Whitetails Unlimited Magazine? Because I’ve realized that much of my core philosophy was created, honed, developed, or can be easily explained through hunting, the outdoor culture and lifestyle, and the people and experiences I’ve encountered during the time I’ve been privileged to be the editor of this publication.
If you did not read my column on page 7, this is my last issue as editor of this publication, as I am retiring. During the past few months, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, about a lot of stuff, and one of those things is how lucky I’ve been to have a job I’ve loved. Most days I get to go to work, instead of having to go to work. That’s a privilege many people don’t get, and I’m grateful for it. In this position, I’m expected to learn new things, so I can inform other people about them, and for me that’s a lot of fun. But it can also be frustrating, like every time I talk to a scientist.
In journalism, you want to present information that is complete, accurate, and easy for the reader to understand. Science rarely works like that.
Someone once told me that the process for a person to receive a Ph.D. is that they need to learn more and more, about less and less, until they eventually know everything about nothing. That may be a little harsh, but it’s not too far off the mark. During a recent visit to a museum in Fairbanks, Alaska, I saw a display about a biologist who has spent his entire career studying the parasites that bedevil pikas, a mouse-like rodent. At first glance, I wondered about spending decades studying something so arcane, but that’s just my ignorance coming out again. (After returning home, I did a little research and found this interesting passage from a 1970 research paper that examined 54 picas for parasites: “The pikas were collected primarily by shooting at close range with .22 caliber ammunition.”)
I’ve interviewed a number of wildlife biologists and found that they are loathe to generalize or extend their research into other areas. For instance, back in the mid-70s, I’d been taught that when hunters enter an area, they drive out the local deer, which travel to new areas and don’t come back. While researching CWD, biologists in southwest Wisconsin used then-new GPS collars and found that deer do move when hunters enter an area—sometimes a few hundred yards. They then return to their familiar home range as soon as the hunters leave. In fact, matriarchal family units rarely move more than a mile from where they are born during their entire lives. I asked the biologist, “So deer always stick close to where they are born?” She replied, “I don’t know. The deer in our study, in this area, do that. I don’t know about deer in other areas.” Which, of course, is the correct answer. I’m now always suspicious when someone claims that “The science proves …” whatever it is they claim. More often than not, the actual solid evidence is slim to none.
This is not always bad, depending on what kind of person you are. I fell into this job because someone I had worked with on a number of freelance projects recommended me to Pete Gerl, the WTU executive director, when they were looking for an editor for the magazine. This worked out for me. I get calls (and I also make calls) from time to time from other editors, public relations people, and colleagues asking if I know a certain person and what I think of them. Two times people had claimed to work for this magazine and I had never heard of them. It’s an even smaller world out there now with email, text messaging, and social media; so if you are worried about someone watching what you are doing, perhaps you need to take a hard look at yourself.
By “hunting stand,” I also mean to include most places outside—like a fishing boat, a trail through the woods, or a rock on the edge of a field. I’ve spent a lot of time in these places with a completely blank mind, usually thinking about myriad, unrelated things. Having an empty mind is an almost strange state of being; but in an instant, I can go from staring at a blank, dark sky to noticing that the sky is now almost visible as the sun starts to rise. Then my mind starts grinding in different, unpredictable ways, sometimes over useless things, but more often than not, in productive ways. I’ve learned to take something to write with, as I also normally forget my great ideas. Well, they’re great until I try to decipher them back in the land of electricity.
Regardless of the weather conditions, sunrise is a magical time. The world is transformed from a black, two-dimensional mystery, into an alive, three-dimensional reality. It’s worth dragging myself out from under the warm blankets.
I made a reference to the quadradic equation earlier in this article, and not because I’m a math nerd. The important part (for me) was not working the equation, but the concept that there can be more than one correct answer for a specific problem. For many things in life, there can be one answer, two answers, or a ‘complex’ answer (for which the formula involves imaginary numbers). Sometimes in my life, the solutions to my problems have also been direct, or bifurcated, or imaginary. Just don’t get me started on nonlinear equations, which describe most of what happens in nature and can also have many solutions, repeating solutions, or no solution.
There is a large faction of the population that views nature as a wonderful, special, delicate place—and humans are nothing more than a marauding horde that will destroy it. I agree that the natural world is beautiful and majestic, and I am often in awe of things from the microscopic to the grandest structures on the planet. At the same time, nature can be ugly, cruel, brutal, and vicious. I’ve watched a praying mantis devour prey that is still alive with the same unthinking determination exhibited by a hungry shark. Killer whales were granted that name for a reason, and that cute, cuddly polar bear cub that looks like something you’d like to hug, has a mother that would not hesitate to literally rip you asunder and then eat you, given half a chance.
People like to associate with others like themselves, and most people are members of many different ‘tribes.’ That’s fine, as long as each group can respect and work with everyone else. The problem exists when members of one tribe start to view other tribes as the enemy. In my sphere, there are tribes that prefer to hunt with bows, rifles, muzzleloaders, and handguns, and everyone is happy until one group wants to restrict what another group can hunt with. Anti-hunting and anti-gun tribes are constantly trying to pit one group of hunters against another, but it is most disheartening when tribes of hunters battle with each other.
I’ve learned the hard way that people who appear to be lucky, tend to be prepared enough to make their own luck.
I have nothing to add.
There is a big difference between leadership and management. Being good at either is difficult. The skills can often overlap, but good managers can lack any semblance of leadership, and many great leaders are awful managers. Should you ever be in a place where you experience working with someone who is both, thank your lucky stars. If you are in a place where your people are deficient, pay attention and vow not to repeat their mistakes when you get into a position to have an effect on others.
I read a lot. Not always important books written by the world’s leading authors, but I’ve gleaned nuggets of wisdom from Aristotle to Ant Man; in every case, pay attention because you never know when you will learn something. Like: “Life’s journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting ‘Holy cow, what a ride!’” Or this one from hockey great Wayne Gretzky: “One hundred percent of the shots you don’t take, don’t go in.” I don’t remember where I found this one: “The difference between the right word, and almost the right word, is the difference between Jerry Lewis and Jerry Lee Lewis.” Or this one from the great philosopher Yogi Berra: “You can observe a lot by just watching.” And this adage has also stuck with me: “Vision without action is a daydream. Action without vision is a nightmare.”
Words of wisdom from an old First Sergeant to a young Lieutenant: “The important things are usually simple; but the simple things can often be very difficult.”
It’s not the things you don’t know that will get you killed; it’s the things you don’t know you don’t know. Don’t ever stop learning, and don’t ever think you know it all.
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