Most folks don’t hunt these days, but we’re still hunters.

Hunting is an action. Hunter is a thing. You only have to be capable of hunting to be considered a hunter, the same way a computer is still a computer when it’s switched off.

Even if you find the idea of hunting unsettling, even if you ride a wheelchair and wheeze with every breath, you’re still a hunter. Those old instincts are still there.

That just raises the question:

What kind of hunters are humans?

Are we ambush predators, lying in wait for our naïve prey to stumble into our traps?

Are we pack hunters, coordinating to box our prey in and take them done?

Maybe we’re persistence hunters, chasing our prey until they’d rather be a meal than keep running?

“The last one! It’s the last one!”

Ah, I see you’re a student of anthropology. You probably know about how our ancestors would chase gazelles over the planes, waterskins on their belts and songs in their hearts.

But before you rush into an answer, consider:

Humans are the ultimate predator. Best we can tell, there’s never been anything like us before. There doesn’t seem to be anything like us now. We’re kings and queens of the ecosystem.

Why?

Is it because we can coordinate and plan with others? Sure, but so can wolves. When a wolf can build an oil rig, write a sonnet and sail the seas, I’ll pay attention. Until then, there’s clearly a difference between us.

What about our technology? That’s overrated. Okay, sure, now our technology is godlike, elevating us above any predator nature has ever seen. But for most of our evolutionary history, we weren’t inventing new things. We got by for hundreds of millennia using only chiselled rocks, pointy sticks and waterskins.

The answer is probably in our ridiculous intelligence. It has to be. We’re unimpressive by every other standard.

And a key part of that is our flexibility.

What sort of predator are we? Whatever will get the job done. We’ll chase a gazelle to the horizon if we have to. Or we’ll bait some hooks and toss them into the sea. Or we’ll surround a bison and leave it nowhere to run as we whittle it down.

The most dangerous predator on the planet is dangerous because we’re flexible.

We’re adaptable.

We have no hunting strategy – we have hunting strategies. Our real strategy is to pick the strategy that works.

Apparently, the African wild dog is one of the world’s most successful predators. Over 80% of hunts result in a kill. They’re even flexible about it, combining pack tactics with persistence hunting.

Even so, we’re much more flexible than they are – and guess which species is on the endangered list now? Hint: it’s not us.

I love nature, so that breaks my heart – but I’m not about to turn away from the lesson here.

Adaptability is king.

It’s the winning strategy, allowing you to swap out other strategies on the fly. It keeps you nimble, unpredictable and resourceful.

And if you’re struggling, I bet this is why. Most problems boil down to inflexibility. You keep doing what you’ve always done, but you’re no longer winning.

Maybe you’re more attached to your strategy than the results it gives you. It’s easy to get grateful, even sentimental, over an approach which has brought you so much happiness, richness or success in your life.

Perhaps it feels disloyal on some level to add another option to your suite of strategies.

I’m sure your old, stale behaviours appreciate it.

If you’re happy to rest in the rut you’ve created, then you’ll be happy as you are. There’s no need for coaching for someone like that.

Especially not my Broken Laser approach, specifically designed to get you unstuck and flexible again.

That’s up to you whether you claim a coaching session with me or not:

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