Generations of Hunting: Preserving Heritage, Family, and Conservation

Family photographs of bygone hunts in the Southwest remind one hunter of her heritage—and the importance of keeping the flame alive.  

We look through old pictures and glimpse the lives that came before us, shelves lined with albums that don’t just show deer antlers, furs, and harvest, but entire stories are made tangible. Tattered photographs and yellowed Polaroids of harvested animals fill these albums, turning family lore into something you can hold in your hands.

Growing up, hunting wasn’t just for sport. My grandfather always talked about passing down the hunting tradition. “You may not be a hunter, but you should have the skills to do so if you need it,” he would say. It was a matter of subsistence and self-reliance, virtues woven into our heritage. Every visit from my grandparents brought not only laughter and conversation but a cooler brimming with fresh game, mostly moose, elk, or Coues’ deer—bounty from wild places I hoped someday to tread myself. Around the kitchen table, each meal followed a recount of the adventure, and each story seemed more lavish than the last—and I’m sure, a few fibs. We were just kids, wide-eyed and enchanted, hanging on every word, learning through their laughter and tales of patience and grit. In those moments, hunting wasn’t merely a pastime; it became a legacy, carefully tended and passed from generation to generation.

The author continuing the hunting tradition with a great buck from 2024

So, there I was, sitting on the bank of a pond in the dark; it was -3 degrees, and I could feel the icicles forming on my eyelashes. We had been out there for hours, cutting through six inches of ice to open a hole in the water.  We only shot two ducks and a goose that day. I retell that story and the conditions to people. They normally laugh and remark about how crazy we are. The funny thing is I would do it again. You must understand the past to understand my story and the force that drives me. Hunting is in my blood, and I’m not alone. It’s a heritage and a tradition many Americans hold dear.

The Birth of the Davis Hunting Heritage

Leonard Davis with a Mexican jaguar 

There is something special about old hunting photographs. Some of my favorites are black-and-white photos of my great-great-grandfather, Leonard Davis. He was a father of nine who carved out a life on Robles Ranch in the Three Points area of southern Arizona during the 1920s and well into the ‘40s. He spent his days as a ranch hand, cowboy, and trapper, living under sun-scorched skies and surrounded by rugged desert landscapes. In that unforgiving land, he learned the values of self-sufficiency, resourcefulness, and respect for the land, which were essential for survival. For Leonard, these weren’t lessons gently passed down. They were lived, day in and day out, and then woven into the fabric of our family’s identity.

Family lore remembers him as a capable cowboy and a highly regarded trapper whose reputation extended well beyond the ranch’s boundaries. It’s said he earned extra income by selling furs at a time when every penny counted. Local ranchers and farmers knew Leonard could help keep their livestock safe. According to one story, Mexican authorities, desperate to curb the threat of predators south of the border, sent Leonard a letter requesting his skill. Mexican jaguars, known for their hunting prowess, were terrorizing villagers and killing valuable livestock. Alongside them, the elusive Mexican red wolves prowled the same territory, leaving devastation. 

These rare images in this story show my great-great-grandfather with the jaguars and red wolves he’d trapped and hunted. They have become cherished relics that outlasted the lean years and the hardship. They speak of a man who knew the land and its predators. Each snapshot reminds us that our heritage is one of adaptation and respect for the unforgiving environment that shaped our ancestors and, in turn, shaped who we are today. My great-grandpa, John Earl Davis, was also a cowboy and grew up hunting. However, as an adult, he spent most of his outdoor time on the water. He loved to fish. It is interesting to see the differences in generations. Looking at these photos, you can see that each one had a particular passion for the outdoors. Though the family was extremely poor, I’m glad someone recognized the significance of these encounters, taking the time to snap a few photographs.

My Grandfather: The Muzzleloader and the Big Game Hunter

As the generations moved forward, so did our family’s connection to hunting. My grandfather worked with the Southern Pacific Railroad and carried the family’s outdoor values throughout his life. He was a dedicated muzzleloader hunter who found both challenge and fulfillment in pursuing large North American game. Throughout his lifetime, he harvested eight of the continent’s top big game animals. Each successful hunt served as a personal achievement and a testament to the hunting traditions passed down from Leonard Davis’s time. I even have a letter from Leonard to my grandpa Larry, saying he was getting old and hadn’t hunted or trapped much. 

Leonard Davis with a Mexican red wolf and Larry Davis with a mountain lion

Continuing the Legacy: Me and My Children

The traditions ingrained by my grandfather and those who came before him have not been lost. My parents ensured I grew up with a strong appreciation for hunting. However, I did not go much as a child. As an adult, I decided I would make sure these skills didn’t end with me. I started hunting. Now, I’m thankful I get to share my stories and tactics through my job as a writer. Today, I also pass on the hunting heritage to my own children, helping them discover their own milestones in the field. From their first early-morning hunts to learning how to field-dress game to understanding why we practice conservation-minded hunting now. Each outing we share is more than a day spent outdoors; it’s an opportunity to bond as a family, teaching the next generation about self-reliance, responsibility, and the value of life. In guiding them, I see the same spark that Leonard Davis must have seen long ago, and I know our heritage will live on.

Hunting as a Force for Conservation

As we reflect on these generations of hunters, it’s clear that hunting is far more than a pastime. Hunting is a cornerstone of wildlife management and conservation. License fees, excise taxes on hunting equipment, and contributions from sportsmen and women directly support habitat restoration, species research, and public land protection. By introducing new hunters and nurturing the family traditions that came before us, we actively contribute to the conservation of our natural resources. Each shot taken and each story told is a reminder that our role as hunters isn’t just to harvest game but to ensure that future generations have places to hunt, abundant wildlife to harvest, and a legacy to uphold.

The freedoms we enjoy as hunters, such as the ability to access public lands, harvest wild game, and partake in age-old traditions, depend on our willingness to engage as sportsmen. Voting, supporting conservation policies, and making our voices heard in public debates ensure that critical wildlife habitat remains accessible and well-managed. We preserve the American hunting tradition by actively advocating for hunting rights, public land access, and science-based wildlife management.

The author's great-grandfather after a successful hunt