“Earth provides enough to satisfy every man’s need, but not every man’s greed.” ~Mahatma Gandhi
There is something deceptively simple in Gandhi’s observation. The earth gives us an extraordinary abundance. Food, water, timber, game, fish, horses, gardens, mountains, rivers, open country. It gives us the raw materials for both survival and pleasure. What it cannot provide is an end to wanting. Perhaps that is the distinction worth remembering: need has a limit. Want does not.
A day in the field has a way of making this point obvious. You walk a ridge at first light, a dog working ahead through the sparse cover of windswept prairie grass and cheatgrass, and for a few hours the notifications from the machinery of modern life that we carry in our pocket become irrelevant. In fact sometimes those notifications get in the way of enjoying your experience outside, so if I have cell coverage, I often turn the phone to silent. You are left thinking about the direction of wind, the dog’s effort to quarter through the field leaving nothing uncovered, the anticipation of finding birds, and the dew on the ground beneath your boots. The view is often rewarding, as is the physical and mental calculations needed to be successful, but more than anything it creates a situation where you are forced to just be—just living in the moment. Even if the hunt is successful, the reward is not measured by how much game meat you brought home. One bird can be enough. Sometimes the real prize is simply having been there and the stories that are made through these experiences in the natural world.
The same is true around a table. A well-prepared meal does not require excess. A good piece of venison, a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, friends and family gathered together can feel almost extravagant without being excessive. The pleasure comes from attention, not accumulation.
We live in a culture that is remarkably good at convincing us that more is the same thing as better. More possessions. More acreage. More horsepower. More money. More followers. More of everything, apparently, because somewhere along the way someone decided that enough was an insufficiently ambitious goal.
But enough is not small. Enough is knowing when the day is complete for the dog’s sake. Enough is taking what you need and leaving some birds to breed for next year. Enough is understanding that the landscape is not merely a resource to be consumed, but a place in which we are fortunate enough to participate. In short, you become a conservationist of not only the birds, but the land itself and your time spent there is cherished.
Perhaps that is what our travels along The Sporting Road teach us. The field, the river, the horse, the dog and the kitchen all remind us that pleasure does not necessarily come from having more. It comes from being present for what is already there. The earth has always been remarkably generous and hopefully your bird dog loves it as much as you do. It is our appetite as humans that often requires the training.
