Humans need a taste of wild foods once in a while, preferably gathered with one’s own hands. The basic psychic comfort of experiencing the earth as a place that welcomes us by feeding us was hardwired into each of us during our long residence in the Pleistocene. We haven’t evolved very far from that need: It’s still part of the basic definition of being human. It’s this need, I think, that accounts for the undiminished taste for hunting and fishing for which modern supermarkets offer no substitute.
But we are losing ground in our relationships with nature. Within the last century, the developed world has embraced expensive technologies in transportation, agriculture and energy, which in turn provide us with an illusory sense of comfort and prosperity. The expense of those technologies can be calculated in lost topsoil, deforestation, the dewatering of our rivers – the list goes on. Our “comforts” are killing us just as surely as they are making us feel safe. Meanwhile, we grow further and further from the sources of our sustenance, and our very imaginations are drying up as a result of the absence of our primary teachers – the lands and waters themselves, and the creatures with whom we share them. The pleasure of fishing is now tainted by the question of how long such pleasures will be available to us.