by Kate Pate, PhD
After taking into account the rickety tables, the charred-smelled camping chairs, and the cow elk stretched across the tarp on the ground there was barely any room left in the mess tent as we gathered around our successful harvest. We squeezed in as best we could, and with the wind relentlessly whipping the canvas walls into our backs, we went around the room and covered introductions. There were 25 in our mostly military veteran group, and by that time in the evening, after a long day of travel, most of us were cold and famished. Our dinner stared up at us from the tarp. We needed meat for the next handful of days of this Veteran Hunt Camp, and this task was going to require a group effort.
I must clarify that I’m not a veteran, but my profession as a neurophysiologist and coach regularly brings me into contact with active-duty service members, veterans, and first responders. In my client and group sessions, we cover the gamut of topics related to mental, physical, and spiritual health, and through our work together I’ve recognized that veterans are often reluctant to open up to strangers. This is especially true of civilians, who made up a handful of attendees and support staff at camp. Being vulnerable and saying you don’t know how to do something is a great equalizer. As I glanced around the tent, it was both a surprise and a true relief to learn that I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t quartered an elk before. Thankfully, the guides patiently and passionately walked us through the various methods of field dressing and processing game, and it quickly became clear that this was going to be a trip of firsts for many of us.
While most of our group had previous hunting experience, there were still many things each of us had never done. It seemed that everyone had something to teach and something to learn. After I took my turn with the knife, I noticed that the energy of the room and the flow of our conversations rose in parallel with our comfort level. It might have been due to the unavoidable teamwork required to break down an animal, or perhaps it was the natural effect that facing blood and death has on us, but what we had just done broke the ice more effectively than anything I’d ever experienced.
Our guides led small cohorts on various hunts throughout the next four days in my now home state of Montana, covering everything from waterfowl, upland bird, deer, elk, and even coyote hunting, and by the end of camp, the veteran distinction faded as the distinguishing characteristic that initially brought everyone together. It turns out that hunting fosters bonding within the military and veteran communities, but also between those communities and civilians. Many within our group were first-time hunters like me who gravitated towards hunting because of the peace that nature provides and the desire to reclaim some primal and intuitive aspect of themselves that had long been dormant.
With each passing day and night spent under the sun and stars, surrounded by people who felt like family, everyone’s mental and physical stress levels plummeted further and further. Even though we were a bit sleep-deprived from our early mornings, the group seemed to have more energy and felt better than we had back home. The physical tension that people walked into camp with had visibly dissipated, which was no clearer than during the nighttime fireside chats, which were a catalyst for connection. There, I witnessed the sharing of deeply personal stories between recent strangers to a degree I hadn’t seen before. The camp was only five nights, but it was impactful for all of us.
What is it about hunting specifically, but spending time in nature more generally, that allows us to feel more human and see through the normal barriers that perpetuate the “othering” – of people as much as the natural world? My philosophical answer is that we are nature, and to live separately from it is to live separately from ourselves. I think this separation causes a fracturing in us that makes it easy to remain disconnected in all aspects of our lives. But because I’m a researcher as much as a humanist, I seek to understand complex topics like this through the lens of science and data.
Hippocrates himself, widely considered the Father of Medicine and to whom the Hippocratic Oath is attributed, touted the healing power of nature millennia ago. Yet, much of Western medicine seems to have forgotten its imperatives. When more than 80% of the population in the United States lives in urban areas comprising 3% of the country’s total land area, it’s not difficult to imagine that much of America may not experience or connect with nature in a regular, meaningful way. Our default state should include regular movement and time in nature, and it’s clear that the lack of either can lead to mental, physical, and spiritual illness. I don’t think it’s purely a coincidence that some mental health conditions, like anxiety disorders and depression, are on the rise. In a society where many people live separate from nature and rely on medical providers trained to address symptoms with pills, it’s no wonder we’re sicker than we’ve ever been. We’ve been convinced that our health issues are too complex to be addressed even in some small capacity simply by spending time outside. However, that belief seems to be shifting as new research pours in.
It may not be widely accepted yet from a prescriptive standpoint, but the concept of nature or wilderness as a therapeutic intervention isn’t novel; it’s a practice that dates back to the First World War, when interacting with nature was prescribed to treat traumatized soldiers. Human beings are hard-wired for social connection and veterans come from a purpose-driven, tribal-like background. Losing that upon separation can make the transition from military service to civilian life extremely challenging. Research among veterans has demonstrated that spending time in natural settings and reconnecting with one’s “tribe” fosters a strong sense of community and leads to measurable improvements in social reconnection, life changes, inner peace and psychological healing, and processing and reflection. These kinds of experiences can enable personal transformation, which has relevance across the entire lifespan for people from all backgrounds but has particularly important implications for service members during the difficult transition period they all must face. Hunting is a unique kind of nature therapy that includes the bonus elements of shared discomfort and, often, adversity – both of which are ties that bind in the veteran community.
The mental health effects of nature are real and quantifiable, and they last long after individuals leave or return home. Researchers have found nature therapy to be powerful enough to mitigate symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) in veterans, something even traditional therapies aren’t always capable of achieving. Scientists and clinicians familiar with the current standards of care offered by the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) have recently said that nature-based interventions should be considered as potentially strong treatment options for veterans. Outward Bound has a veteran-focused program, which has a CVS receipt-long list of positive outcomes in participants, including decreased emotional suppression and increased positive attitudes toward seeking professional psychological help. The latter point is especially significant among a community of self-sufficient individuals who are traditionally reluctant to ask for help.
We’ve also conditioned ourselves to rely upon artificial cues to self-regulate. Like all other animals on the planet, our predecessors’ daily activities and sleep used to coincide with the natural rhythms of the sun, moon, and seasons. However, with the advent of electric lights, nighttime shift work, jet travel, and the ever-present TV, phone, and computer screens, our circadian rhythms have become disrupted. The effects of screen time are serious. A 2017 study discovered that screen illumination significantly disrupts sleep and alters natural biological rhythms and behavior. When our circadian rhythm is off, sleep disorders and mental health disorders prevail. Veterans and the general public struggle with sleep disorders to an alarming degree, and I can’t help but recall the refrain of hunt camp being that everyone slept better on a cot in a wall tent than they did back home.
Nature also has significant positive impacts on the immune system. Spending time outdoors exposes us to immunoregulatory microorganisms, also called “Old Friends”, or bacteria frequently found in soils and on plants and the hides of animals we hunt. It’s been suggested that we co-evolved with these bacteria, which colonize everything in an animal’s body – from our gut to our skin – and often promote anti-inflammatory conditions. Researchers in support of this theory claim that reduced exposure to nature has led to a loss of our “Old Friends”, and this loss is a major contributing factor in chronic stress-induced disorders such as inflammatory bowel disease, PTSD, anxiety, and depression. I’d be willing to bet it plays a role in post-concussion syndrome, too. It’s a difficult theory to ignore when inflammatory diseases and stress-related disorders are more prevalent in urban environments than rural ones. I’m not saying you should run outside and eat dirt, but it wouldn’t hurt to prioritize opportunities to reconnect with these microorganisms.
That week at camp we unquestionably ate dirt. Between the wind sending it hurling towards our grinning, gaping mouths and literally crawling around in it, not to mention our half-hearted attempts at hygiene, our skin and gut microbiomes became intimately familiar with the elements of the Montana landscape and whichever bacteria were hitchhiking along with them. It was worth it. When I looked around on the last night of camp, I saw nothing but smiling, relaxed, and genuinely happy faces. I’d be willing to bet that each of them received greater mental, physical, and spiritual health benefits in those five days than any pill prescribed by VA doctors could have given them. And as far as I know, there’s no VA program that sends you home with a freezer full of organic, free-range meat and a journal full of new memories – epic stories waiting to be told.
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As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.
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