NANFA-- my last hunt
Prizma_at_aol.com
Sat, 16 Dec 2000 13:46:23 EST
my father was a hunter. still is. we target practiced all the time when my
brother and i were boys. he reloaded all our ammo and blew up things w/
blackpowder. we hunted deer, doves, squirrels, rabbits... wild hogs. my mom
cooked them all too. i really enjoyed the taste of vension... taking them to
school in my lunch bag. i learned what worchestershire sauce was (and how to
say it)... dousing my venison sandwiches with it. once mom put cloves in w/
the rabbits. i rolled those little balls around my plate for quite
sometime... thinking. i was very familiar w/ game trail signs. :) and
squirrels in wild rice. she didnt like to cook them tho... thinking they were
little rats. but she did and we were grateful. i did enjoy hunting, the
marksmanship, the stalk, being in the woods.
well im not sure... i still eat meat and too much of everything including
twinkies. im not a vegitarian and i am not anti-hunting. i personally came to
wane from the hunting/killing tho. i much enjoy seeing creatures live and
that all stops instantly w/ a well placed shot.
my last experience was over 20 years ago. for some thought, tho by that time
i had begun to step back from hunting, i took my 22 automatic in the woods to
see if i had still retained the skill. i eased into the trees along a tiny
creek... just behind the farm. almost immediatly i saw tree limbs shake from
squirrel leaps. i eased up and sat at the base of a tree and watched 2
squirrels play and chase one another. i carefully positioned myself and
watched... waiting for the perfect shot. crack. the squirrel fell from the
tree, tumbled in the leaves and rolled to the creek bank's edge... finally
falling into the water. i did not move. the other squirrel chattered and
danced back and forth on the branch. i did not move. then it began to ease
through the branches, peering intently to the bank's edge. it seems like a
minute or 2 passed. i still did not move. it eased itself down the tree trunk
and with a few cautious, small squirrel hops came to the creek's edge and
peered over. crack. 2 perfect shots. perfect stealth. perfect hunting. i felt
like an assasin... a sniper. all the skill and marksmanship was instantly
removed w/ this cold feeling. i did not eat them and have not hunted since.
perhaps i would again if i lived in the country and wanted to show my
children where meat really comes from. i do not resent other hunters tho i
listen to their language and attitude. my father's hunting words actually
disturb me more now. (who can talk to their father?)
on a lighter note...
ed scott hunts tva parking lot deer w/ a bag of popcorn and a baseball bat. (
just kidding, but you can repeat it :)
i once witnessed a bunch of grown men cracking open little broiled squirrel
skulls w/ a spoon and eating the thinking part. are you what you eat?
its been awhile since ive played spatterball. its a blast!... provides all
the excitement, skill, stealth and marksmanship of hunting except you dont
eat your victims.
often while sitting in a micky d's drive thru i get a sense of unease when
the memory of stalking squirrels wanders into my brain. ( remember steve
martin's "stay away from the cans, he's shooting the cans!" from his movie?)
have fun, merry christmas, be patient w/ each other, and keep learning!
casper
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