Jim Leitzel learned bow hunting from his father 32 years ago. And over the years, his sons, Shane and Nicholas, learned the sport from him.
But when archery season began Sept. 30, Leitzel, 43, hunted alone in the woods near Sunbury. His sons, 21 and 20, were at work.
"My two sons hunt, but they're not dedicated to it," said Leitzel, who lives in Lewisburg and manages a Dodge dealership in Sunbury. He's also part-owner of a snowmobile dealership.
Hunters are reluctant to write an obituary for their sport, which counts more than 1 million participants in Pennsylvania. But they
recognize the pressures that endanger its future, and the future of businesses that depend on it. Those include sporting goods stores, suppliers, meat processors and motels - and farms, which rely on hunters to control the deer that damage their crops.
Since 1985, the number of hunting licenses sold annually to Pennsylvanians 16 years and younger has fallen from just under 13 1,000 to a little more than 98 000, a drop of 25 percent. Over the same period, total license sales have decreased about 11 percent.
Echoing other middle-aged hunters, Leitzel said young people are finding other things to do. As a result, they're less likely to become passionate hunters.
Hunting the estimated 1.5 million deer that roam Pennsylvania is more frustrating, as private land is increasingly posted with "no trespassing" signs. Anti-hunters make matters worse by turning people against the sport, hunters complain.
"I'm concerned, I'm very concerned, within the next two generations what will remain of hunting as we know it," said Dale Hoover, 60.
'They get bored'
Hoover learned to hunt and trap as a child, at a time when rural children had few other outlets.
In the early 1950s, Hoover tended a 7-mile loop of traps around Berrysburg, a small town in northern Dauphin County. He woke at 4:30 a.m. to check for game before school.
"More than once I was late," he recalled. But teachers were understanding. "I was reminded to be punctual, but I was never penalized."
Today, he said, young people spend their time in other ways. They watch television, play video games or participate in team sports. In the 1950s, rural teens were limited to football and baseball, but now can join soccer and track.
Hoover and a friend have tried to interest the friend's grandchildren ages 24 and 17 - in hunting. But the older men have had no luck.
"You take them hunting and don't see no deer, they get bored," said Hoover, who hopes he can teach his 3-year-old grandson to hunt when the time comes.
The financial pressures on young people are also different, said Bob Baker, the owner of Baker's Archery, Matamoras, about 17 miles north of Harrisburg. Young people today want their own cars. To pay for insurance, fuel and the like, young men work two jobs, leaving little time, or money, for hunting, which can be expensive.
Baker, 58, works 70 hours a week in his store. But he still finds time to hunt. A picture taken earlier this year shows him in northern Canada, decked out in camouflage from head to ankle and shouldering a set of Caribou antlers.
His store offers an archery class for up to 50 kids, some as young as 5. The classes, taught in February and March by Baker's only full-time employee, Jim Koppenhaver, cost $5.
"If you put a bow in a kid's hand and they try it, they're going to like it," Baker said. And, he added, bow hunting is relatively cheap. Bows cost between $100 and $650, with arrows going for as little as $15 per dozen. A hunter only needs a halfdozen to start.
But hunters know that instilling a love of their sport takes more than putting a weapon in a child's hand. Young hunters need the thrill of bagging their first buck, and that takes patience. In many areas, deer are harder to find than they used to be.
No deer, no dice
Dennis Spotts woke up around 4:20 a.m. on Sept. 30 and headed to Union County to go bow hunting with his brother Chad, Absent from the trip were Dennis' sons, Duane, 25, and Darin, 23. Dennis Spotts taught them to hunt, but they haven't joined him in 10 years.
"We tried it, and they kind of lost interest in it," said Sports, 46, a bank executive from Millersburg. "They couldn't find the game."
With deer less common on public lands,
Spotts said he's tried hunting turkeys. But it's his desire to be close to nature that keeps him coming back.
Last year, Spotts and his brother bought a camp on land in Sullivan County. The camp consists of an old mobile home, and costs about $350 a year to maintain. Spotts estimates his annual hunting expenses are around $550.
In 1996, hunters in Pennsylvania spent more than $750 million and supported more than 20,000 jobs, according to a 1998 study
by Southwick Associates, an economics consulting firm in Alexandria, Va.
For Baker, hunting has provided a modest income. But to support himself and his family, he still needed a full-time job in addition to the archery store.
Opened 31 years ago, the part-time business eventually outgrew his garage and several additions. So five years ago, he gave up other work and built a new, larger shop on Peters Mountain Road.
Antlered heads overlook Baker's main retail area, whose shelves hold a range of bow-hunting paraphernalia, from bows to boots, stocking caps to tree stands. In back, the store has an indoor shooting range, 20 yards deep, and a video-hunting system. Hunters shoot at targets on a movie screen, which records the hits.
The shop and the shooting areas are separated by a rectangular room with two tables, nine folding chairs and an RC Cola soda machine. In one comer, separated by a counter, is a small kitchen, with a fridge and coffee maker.
Animals killed by Baker and his two sons stand behind a wooden fence in the opposite comer. The display includes an eight-point buck, a pheasant, two bears and a mountain lion.
Fees from the target range and video system keep the business afloat, Baker said, declining to reveal the store's total revenue. "There's not a lot of money in it, and there's a lot of work." He also rents apartments in a building next to the store.
His archery business improved this year, but only because other stores in Pennsylvania have closed, Baker said. Baker's got busy in June, about two months earlier than normal.
But Baker is pessimistic when asked about the future. "Eventually this store won't be here," he said.
Asked why, Baker blamed "anti-hunters" who fail to understand the sport. He also blamed divorce. Kids end up with their mothers who don't introduce them to hunting, he said.
But he also recognized that young people are busy elsewhere. "That's a pretty big factor," he said, as he resumed tidying up and picking tags up off the floor.
Would Baker like his sons to take over the archery store? He paused, then said, "Honestly? I don't know."
He turned away, then turned back and smiled. "They have jobs that pay a lot more than running the store."
A close eye
To stem the decline in youth hunting, the Pennsylvania Game Commission has started programs to encourage kids participation and changed the rules to allow young people a better shot at bagging a deer. (See bottom sidebar).
The commission has also set up programs to help farmers, who lose an estimated $75 million a year due to damage caused by deer. On that count, hunters are placing their faith in Gary Alt, a respected wildlife biologist who took charge of the commission's newly created deer management section in August 1999.
"It's one of those things that we're going to have to continue to keep a close eye on," Jerry Feaser, a commission spokesman, sai d of the license numbers.
Feaser cited a less-than-expected decrease in license sales after the General Assembly raised the price in 1998, from, $12.75 to $20. It was the first increase since 1985. Feaser also said more women are hunting than ever before.
Still, the commission has established a committee to explore alternative funding methods to defer future price hikes, Feaser said. "We need to look for other ways ... to enhance the funding base for the agency."
License sales make up about half the commission ' s budget. The rest comes from federal grants, the sale of timber and coal. and from taxes on the sale of handguns. rifles and ammunition. The commission is seeking more than $68 million for 2001-2002.
But though society has changed, the commission I s purpose remains the same, Feaser said. Only the General Assembly can change it.
"We are trying to continue to promote Pennsylvania's hunting heritage," he said.
Hard work
Jim Leitzel spent Sept. 30 at the Kettle, a wooded spot 12 miles south of Sunbury and two miles downhill from the nearest road.
The hunting is great because no one goes back there and the deer are plentiful, he said.
He expressed no disappointment in his sons being elsewhere, noting he was proud to see them working. "Kids have things they'd rather be doing than freezing your ass off in the woods."
But, he added, "Hunting used to be a big part of your life."
It's still is for him.
He once spent four and a half hours dragging a buck back to his car. And three weeks into the season last year, he injured both knees climbing up a rock slide and ended up in the hospital. On Saturday, his first foray since the injury, he only saw two does and returned home empty-handed.
That didn't bother him. He enjoys being' outdoors and sometimes just watches the deer linger beneath his tree stand.
"I've killed plenty," he said.
