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Hunters, Prey, and the Blurry Space in Between: “The Most Dangerous Game”

It can be incredibly difficult for someone to keep both a straight face and clear mind, whether they’re speaking in public or under pressure to make an important decision. It’s shocking how Sanger Rainsford is able to do exactly that after falling face first into the Carribean Sea. 

Unfortunately for him, Rainsford’s tumble is only the first of several trials that put his ability of maintaining a clear head to the test. In “The Most Dangerous Game” by Richard Connell, Rainsford progresses from a renowned, American hunter to prey being hunted upon his arrival to a menacing island. He meets General Zaroff, a hunter who is every bit as mad and cunning as his name sounds. Bored from years of successfully hunting creatures around the four corners of the world, Zaroff casually explains to Rainsford about how he enjoys hunting more clever beasts that have the wits to challenge him: humans. 

An island that sets the tone for Connell’s story.

At this point in the story, my reading halted to a full stop as I switched tabs to take a breather from the general’s terrifying reveal. My emotions were a discombobulated mixture of disgust and curiosity about how Zaroff could have possibly justified his hobby as anything but “murder”, the term Rainsford used to describe this activity. Zaroff’s Darwinistic claims about his own gifts and purpose as a hunter tasted bitter in my mouth and I searched for another reason, any other reason, of why he was so obsessed with hunting.

One great place to start is to learn about the sport’s characteristics that give a hunter the most happiness. When we think about “hunting”, we usually picture two individuals, father and son, both posing with their prey in a forest in the countryside. Their faces display stunning smiles, radiating their pride after a long day’s worth of hunting deer. Now let’s consider a different sort of hunter. How would an elephant poacher’s smile compare if he held up his prized ivory to the lens of a camera? Both groups are considered to be hunters, but there is a clear distinction in their intentions: a cruelty that matches Zaroff’s own demeanor.

A father and son smiling towards the camera.

In Psychology Today, you can read about how “online hunting photographs reveal achievement satisfaction with large and dangerous prey”. The study noted that the three most important factors that influenced the enthusiasm of a hunter’s smile were a) if the dead prey was in the picture as they posed, b) the prey’s size, and c) if the prey was a carnivore instead of an herbivore. Essentially, the more dangerous the creature was, the more clout and prestige a hunter received. The photographs from this study were shared on social media, making the trend understandable enough: a hunter is prouder when he is able to show off his catch to his hunter friends. 

However, this correlation does not carry over to Zaroff’s island. In the early 20th century, the general did not have access to Facebook, Snapchat, or Instagram. He lived on an isolated island, with only Ivan (his loyal, deaf henchman) and his pack of hounds as nearby inhabitants. If Zaroff didn’t have anyone to impress but himself, why would he hunt humans? 

A device for Zaroff to boost his ego… or maybe not since his hunting is a little illegal?

With this conundrum in mind, it is interesting to reconsider Rainsford’s and Zaroff’s motivations for hunting. Rainsford hunted for sport, to write books detailing his adventures. Zaroff hunted to satisfy his bloodlust, to prove his strength. Were they the same? At the end of the day, both hunted for pleasure. Was there any difference at all?

To get behind the eyes of a hunter, I recommend watching Mike Hairston’s interview where he articulates his love for hunting and progression as a hunter. As he recounts the way he bonds over hunting with his children, Hairston mentions several benefits, including “renewing ourselves” and “escaping from the life that we normally live”. Everything about Hairston reveals his inherently kind nature, from his passionate voice to his touching recollection of living out his father’s love for hunting. Interestingly enough, these same motivations apply to both Rainsford and Zaroff. As Zaroff pursues him through the jungle to “renew himself”, Rainsford’s mentality shifts subtly to “escape” from personification of the brutal side of hunting. He is still the calm, critical thinker he was before arriving on the island, but a craze for survival overtakes his mind. 

In pursuit of his freedom from Zaroff, Rainsford’s morals bend as he begins to act in ways that he earlier condemned. The “murder” he criticized Zaroff of over dinner becomes a tactic for survival. Traps that he once used on wild jaguars become weapons for him to save his own life. These changes evoke even more questions about the delicate link between a hunter and their morals. Is it possible to be a sensible hunter, even if your actions don’t match your words? At what point does a savage hunter become an animal? When these two forces are thrown against each other in the name of survival, what happens? Connell’s gripping short story offers critical insight into the mind of a hunter and leaves you questioning about which stressors might break someone to the point where they no longer exhibit human values.

Works Cited

Allendorf, Fred W., and Jeffrey J. Hard. “Human-Induced Evolution Caused by Unnatural Selection through Harvest of Wild Animals.” PNAS, National Academy of Sciences, 16 June 2009, www.pnas.org/content/106/Supplement_1/9987. 

Bekoff, Marc. “Trophy Hunters’ Smiles Show How Much They Like to Kill.” Psychology Today, Sussex Publishers, 26 November 2015, www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/animal-emotions/201511/trophy-hunters-smiles-show-how-much-they-kill. 

KUIU Ultralight Hunting, director. KUIU – Why We Hunt: Mike Hairston. YouTube, 27 Feb. 2019, www.youtube.com/watch?v=7y98Qystojw. 

Read “The Most Dangerous Game” here: http://www.dukeofdefinition.com/dangerous_game.pdf

Crafting My Own Story

Every single Saturday, my brother and I walked out of the library carrying one large canvas bag each, both filled to the brim with stacks of hardcover novels. We knew we probably looked silly with bags almost as big as we were, but it was well worth it for all of the books. Ever since my dad started taking me to the library, books became an extension of my hand. I read as much as I could: while driving in the car, during breakfast, at recess and lunch at school. I devoured books and knowledge from many genres—fantasy, thriller, adventure. I loved the complex plotlines, the relatable characters, and the escape from reality. 

The side of the bookshelf we rarely see.

On several occasions, I found myself daydreaming alternate storylines, taking the novel in a different direction than the author originally intended. These “what if” questions lingered in my mind. What if Harry was sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor? What if Bilbo held onto the ring and didn’t give it to Frodo? What if Daisy slowed her car down before running Myrtle over? I loved these books for their plot, but a part of me wondered what it would be like to craft my own story, making my own choices, exploring these possibilities that had gone unexplored. I didn’t have the chance to practice my creative writing skills until Mrs. Palubicki, my middle school language arts teacher, encouraged me to write a novel.

A scene that made me feel very distressed. If one variable was changed, maybe it wouldn’t have ended up this way.

Every lunch period was bliss in November of seventh grade. My friend, Irene, and I found our favorite spot in Mrs. Harris’ classroom, opened our Chromebooks, and got straight to typing away. Over delicious dumplings for lunch, we discussed the plot for our story, the dialogue, the characters, and everything in between. The sound of clacking keys and eager conversations was the perfect background noise for brainstorming. We were writing a 50,000 word novel for the National Novel Writing Month, also known as NanoWriMo. 

The number of words we wrote in Indonesian Rupiah (only $3.36 USD as of 9/30/20, if you’re curious).

Channeling our inner Rick Riordan, we combined humor and elements of adventure into one storyline about the “sixth element”. Our novel followed Allen, a sarcastic, daredevil teen faced with the double-faceted challenge of keeping his family safe from sorcerers and learning to control his newfound power over metals. Allen was starkly different from Irene and I—two quiet girls who loved reading and math—but at the same time, he was very similar to us. We all shared a passion for discovery and risk taking, which was reflected in his decisions and actions throughout our novel. Surprisingly, through writing a fantasy story with imaginary characters, I learned a lot about myself.

Rick Riordan: an author whose books provided inspiration for our story.

Over the course of this month, I began to understand how reading pushed me to grow, to be able to understand and empathize with perspectives I’ve never experienced before. As Irene and I pulled on the styles and phrases from our favorite novels, I began to see diverse experiences shine through our story. Neither of us travelled to Africa before, or to anywhere with a desert climate, but we still conveyed the minute details through our characters: the way their throats were parched and how sand slipped into their laced up leather boots. Neither of us had powerful abilities to keep in check, but our characters did, and along with that came their associated emotions and internal struggles. I realized that reading builds paths between places and time, connecting the reader with authors with whom they have never crossed paths.