SCI Field Notes & News

Editor’s note: This column, courtesy of TTHA’s new partner, SCI, highlights the organization’s advocacy for hunting rights.

By Ben Cassidy, SCI executive vice president of international government and public affairs.

Protecting hunting usually requires some education of policymakers. It’s a staple of our advocacy to point out that well-intended hunting restrictions will actually harm wildlife populations, usually by cutting off the conservation funding that hunters otherwise gladly provide. This argument comes up most often in battling proposed bans on importing hunting trophies, but now it must come into play at the national level right here at home.

The U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service released its draft of the 2022-2023 Hunt-Fish Rule in June, which proposes a modest expansion of hunting and fishing opportunities that SCI supports. But the proposal comes with a giant price tag, in the form of a sweeping ban on traditional ammunition. The rule would ban the use of lead ammunition in all new hunting opportunities, creating a precedent for a total ban on lead ammunition on federal lands. The rule would also prohibit the use of lead fishing tackle.

Wildlife management policy is based on managing population impacts, not on preventing isolated instances of harm to specific individual animals in a species. Absent sound scientific evidence demonstrating a population impact caused by the use of traditional ammunition, there is no justification for restricting or banning its use.

With very limited exceptions, such as waterfowl, there is simply no sound scientific evidence that the use by hunters of traditional ammunition is causing harm to wildlife populations. In the case of raptors, there is a total lack of any scientific evidence of a population impact. In fact, just the opposite is true. Hunters have long used traditional ammunition, yet raptor populations have significantly increased all across North America—a trend that shows no sign of letting up. If the use of traditional ammunition was the threat to raptor populations some claim it is, these populations P would not be soaring as they are. Considering that traditional ammunition accounts for only about 5% of all domestic uses of lead, it’s no surprise that traditional ammunition does not cause harm to animal populations. It’s further worth noting that the lead used in ammunition is elemental, meaning its chemical structure is not altered after mining. The most damaging uses of lead that have been eliminated, such as in gasoline and paint, involved lead that was modified after mining to make it soluble, which in turn greatly increased its bio-availability for uptake by humans. The 11% excise tax that hunters pay on the sale of ammunition is the primary source of wildlife conservation funding

The bald eagle’s recovery was made possible by hunters purchasing traditional ammuition.

hoto P urian . B k erter

A ban on lead tackle would also be detrimental to the future of fishing.

Fewer financial resources would mean fewer fish and fisherman in future generations. Banning traditional ammunition would negatively impact the future of hunting.

in the United States, and the financial backbone of the North American Model of wildlife conservation. The bald eagle’s recovery, a truly great conservation success story, was made possible and funded by hunters using traditional ammunition.

A ban on traditional ammunition would have a serious negative impact on wildlife conservation. The higher cost of alternative ammunition will price everyday consumers out of the market. Needlessly restricting or banning traditional ammunition absent sound science will hurt wildlife conservation efforts as fewer hunters take to the field, thus reducing overall financial wildlife management resources.

Mandating the adoption of alternatives to traditional ammunition is simply not practical. The higher costs associated with this ammunition will price everyday consumers out of the market. This is evidenced by the low 1% market share of metallic non-traditional ammunition.

A study from 2008 by the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) on blood lead levels of North Dakota hunters confirmed that consuming game harvested with traditional ammunition does not pose a human health risk. In looking more closely at the CDC study results, perhaps most telling is the fact that the average lead level of the hunters tested was lower than that of the average American. In other words, if you were to randomly pick someone on the street, chances are they would have a higher background blood lead level than the hunters in this study.

SCI’s CEO W. Laird Hamberlin has issued a clarion call for hunters to band together to oppose the proposed rule. “Safari Club International will continue fighting against misguided federal restrictions and regulations on lead that have no basis in science. We call on the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service to remove this unwarranted poison pill from its latest Hunt-Fish Rule before untold damage is done to the freedom to hunt, and to the hunting community’s access to public lands,” Hamberlin said.

We urge all hunters to join us in answering this call, and we’ve made it easy for you. Just text “SCI” to 73075 to get started, or visit the Hunter Advocacy Action Center online at safariclub.org/hunter-advocacy-actioncenter. Make your voice heard!

The author took a trip to Venezuela to hunt for a subspecies of whitetail. Needless to say, his quest was quite successful.

Afew years ago, I wrote a book titled, “My Main Obsession.” Royalties were to cover the expenses of a full-fledged African safari. Unfortunately the royalties didn’t cover the safari, but a copy did end in the hands of a Venezuelan jaguar expert, who after reading it and wanting other people to enjoy it, gave it as a present to Antonio “Tony” Padrín, of Valenda, Venezuela.

Tony called me at my office and after a long chat, we were the best of friends. I don’t know what it is with hunters, but there’s a special bond, which only forms, I am told, among companions in arms.

After hearing Tony’s stories relative to the abundance of game in Venezuela, including a bigger sub-species of whitetailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus gymnotis), white-lipped peccary (Tayasu tajacu), capybara (Hydrochoerus hydrochaeris), and greater curassow (Crax rubra), I was ready for an invitation but too shy to ask.

So, instead I asked Tony if he would be interested in coming to Costa Rica, not to hunt but to fish. He readily accepted, asking if he could come with his cousin and partner in his building company, along with their wives. I immediately agreed, whereupon Tony said that he would like to correspond and invite me to hunt in Venezuela.

The two couples came to Costa Rica and after some sightseeing, we all flew to the Río Indio Lodge in Nicaragua, on the border with Costa Rica. We had a wonderful time catching snook and tarpon, and swapping stories about hunts.

But it would be a couple of more years before I could go to Venezuela. Towards the end of 2017, Tony phoned, informing me he had bought a hunting ranch southwest of Valencia, which was rife with game and that I should make every effort to come hunting.

Like they say, the next best thing to being rich is having a friend who is. After assuring me that he would fly me into his 12,000-hectare domain in his private plane and that if we needed to drive to the nearest town for provisions, we would do so in his armored Toyota, I was convinced to go. All I had to do was convince my wife, sons and older brother, that I would not get assassinated or kidnapped.

I was pretty leery of going, especially since I couldn’t take my own rifle. Tony assured me he had a Savage bolt-action in .308 caliber, with a see-through high mount, on which a Tasco scope was mounted. He had plenty of ammunition and a .22 Magnum bolt-action, which I could also use. I played it coy until Tony called me again in February 2018, to come, and we set a date of March 3.

I packed a Leupold Golden Ring variable scope and a cheaper glass for the .22 Magnum. And, as Julius Caesar said upon crossing the Rubicon River between Italy and Gaul, “Alea iacta est” – “The die is cast.” I booked my flight, anxious to see the game on the big Venezuelan ranch.

Tony was there at the terminal to meet me in his armored vehicle and introduced me to Dr. Francisco Carelli, a medical surgeon and traumatologist, who was to be my guide.

Tony informed me that he would lodge me for the night in a four-star hotel and that he hoped I would like it. I ended up in a beautiful air-conditioned room in his own home and that night at dinner, I got to meet the rest of his family.

Next morning, we departed to his cattle and water buffalo ranch, Corralito, in his Toyota Land Cruiser, along with his wife, Alba, and of course, the good doctor, who would be with me during my stay.

After a long ride over a good road, and passing through a locked gate, we arrived at the ranch house, a quaint building over 100 years old with a beautiful swimming pool in the front. What struck me when I got out of the air-conditioned vehicle was the temperature. The air shimmered with heat. The

A guide cuts brush to hide the truck. The author waits from atop the truck.

temperature was over 105 degrees in the shade. I was assigned an air-conditioned room, but it wasn’t very cool because of the oppressive heat.

Once settled, I was presented with the Savage .308 rifle, along with the usual four or five boxes of “Heinz” ammunition. Yes, all 57 varieties, with different bullets. I selected a box of Hornady 150-grain soft points.

The rifle had a see-through scope mount. and the previous owner had frayed the stock so that it didn’t fit me. But like they say in my country, “I had only these oxen to till the soil!”

I proceeded to exchange the Tasco for my Leupold. I had brought a couple of paper targets to sight-in the rifle, and Tony provided a Bog-Pod tripod, which I had suggested, and a folding chair. We proceeded to sight in the rifle in the sweltering heat, and I had 16 rounds of Hornady ammo left for the hunt.

Upon returning to the house, I noticed something which I hadn’t seen before: both household dogs were sleeping under the sprinklers to quench the heat!

After a quick bite and dunking my head in water for a few seconds to appease the heat, Francisco and I departed in a Toyota pick-up truck to the northern part of the huge ranch. Fifteen minutes later and after getting into the wilds of Corralito, we started seeing deer.

I noticed these tropical whitetails were about the same size as those in Costa Rica—I don’t think the bucks exceeded 120 pounds—but of a lighter, tawnier color. The antlers, however, were considerably larger, although they did not grow upwards and forward, like North American whitetails, but in a more upward manner.

Tony had authorized me to collect two specimens and, of course, I wanted the two biggest bucks on the ranch. I saw about 50 deer that afternoon, but I refrained from shooting. As is common to the species, they acted wild and skittish.

Early next morning I was out again with Francisco, our driver, Augusto, and one of the ranch hands to look for a promising buck, but we didn’t see anything. In the evening, we sat near a vast open field, hoping for a big buck, but only does and small bucks showed up.

As the sun began to go down, a few light clouds floated like small islands in a lavender sky. A breath of cool air swept past my face and I decided it was time to drive around and see if deer were stirring elsewhere.

Francisco and I stood in the bed of the vehicle, while Augusto slowly toured the countryside. It was close to sundown when I noticed two deer in the distance. Through my binoculars, the two bucks looked good.

I instructed Augusto to approach slowly, not to alarm the bucks, until we could get to a big, leafy tree between us and the deer. He veered in the direction of the tree to reduce the distance to the bucks, for a reasonable shot. Upon reaching the tree, Augusto veered slowly until the two deer came into view.

The best buck stood broadside at 140 yards—I later paced the distance. I had a solid rest and held the crosshairs on the middle of the shoulder, and squeezed the hard trigger on the Savage. At the shot, the buck took two steps and gave me a puzzled look. I couldn’t believe I had missed, and worked the bolt frantically.

I held my breath and took another shot. At the roar of the .308, the buck collapsed as if its feet had been pulled from under him. Francisco gave out a whoop of triumph as we walked toward the buck. The nearer we got, the bigger it looked. When I picked up the head and sized-up the gnarled nine-point rack, Francisco assured me he had never seen a buck that big, and that I had truly taken the biggest deer on the ranch. That put an end to my tropical white-tailed deer hunt, and I couldn’t have been happier.