I so can relate. I hunted moose in Siberia with my brother in 89-94 and the warmest it got was -20. We had a good time! Not when I hit a tree with the bone of the hind quarter that I was carrying in the pack and the momentum swung me around, I lost balance and fell, meat first, into 7-foot deep snow, with the skis still attached. All I could see is a manhole-size sky blotch and my feet, and all I could hear is my brother dying of laughter. He didn't even rush to my rescue, busy holding on to a sapling so not to fall in himself. I sure told him all I had though about his behavior once I untangled from the backpack and got to my feet, chest deep in the snow.
Why do we hunt? I keep asking myself that question too... Never found the answer, it is inside somewhere, so deep that it can't be extracted without removing one's soul out along with it.
