Going in for the Kill: Why Treasurers Must Hone their Hunting Instincts
Published: June 05, 2026
The analogy of the hunter and the farmer appears in many professions, but it is particularly relevant in finance when describing the differences between the accountant and the treasurer.
The accountant is the farmer. His, and, of course, this could equally be her, but I am using the masculine for simplicity’s sake, four financial quarters are his seasons. His ledgers are his fields: he owns them, he controls them, he knows every inch of them. He decides whether to plant wheat or potatoes; he plans ahead, mindful of the weather and the calendar. Once a year, there is a harvest: the year end, the annual report. It is the culmination of careful preparation, steady cultivation, and disciplined stewardship.
The accountant is organised, equipped with sturdy tools, and disciplined. His world is structured, predictable, and governed by deadlines pinned neatly to the wall.
The treasurer, by contrast, is the hunter. His fields are the vast financial markets – wide, shifting, and largely beyond his control. He ventures into these hunting grounds knowing they are unpredictable. He studies them, reads their subtle signs, and learns how the ‘animals’ behave: liquidity, credit spreads, investor appetite, risk sentiment, currencies.
Some days the hunting grounds are rich; other days they are barren, and he must search hard. He often returns home with seemingly nothing except sharper intelligence and a deeper understanding of where opportunity might lie tomorrow.
And then, every so often, he brings home a major catch: a successful bond issue, a refinancing, an M&A transaction. On those days, the whole village celebrates.
Fast, fluid, and flexible
The farmer looks down at his fields. He takes into account the season and the weather, assesses the state of his plants, their progress, and any signs of trouble. His attention is on what is growing in front of him, what he can see, measure, and influence. The accountant mirrors this: he looks down at the numbers in front of him with a magnifying glass, studying, analysing, and paying close attention to detail.
The hunter, by contrast, looks ahead into the hunting grounds just as the treasurer looks ahead into the financial markets. He scans the landscape, anticipating risks, and future events that carry a probability of occurring. He reads the subtle signs, senses shifts before they become obvious, and positions himself for what may come rather than what already is. The treasurer does the same, binoculars in hand, watching markets and corporate actions unfold and thinking ahead.
The contrast extends to the perception of time. In every finance department, accountants have a calendar on the wall or on their computer screens highlighting period ends, reporting deadlines, audit milestones, even team members’ holidays. Their work follows a rhythm that repeats year after year.
The treasurer has no such calendar. His world is driven by events in the business and movements in the markets. No two days, no two years, are the same. He must be fast, fluid, and flexible. He must look ahead, anticipate danger, and seize opportunity in the moment. He must be able to turn on a dime when circumstances change – because they will.
Their tools reflect their nature. The farmer’s plough is sturdy, reliable, and built for steady progress. The hunter’s bow and arrow are fast, precise, and designed for decisive action.
Both roles are essential and, in the village community, complement each other. But their mindsets, skill sets, and instincts are different. One harvests; the other hunts.