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I understand hunters who hunt to eat. But I don't understand hunting for sport. I grew up in New York City and have been a city guy all my life, so I have not been exposed to hunting. But why kill a living animal for sport?
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Andy,
You have mastered the art of asking what appears to be a simple question that cannot be answered either simply or objectively.
IMO, the answer is invariably both personal & subjective.
The question again…..“Why kill a living animal for ‘sport’?”
I’ll take a shot at answering, with full acknowledgement that my opinion is just that…….my opinion.
For most, hunting is a ‘rite of passage’ for a young man. The first time you hold a loaded gun in your hand, and realize that you have the power of life or death over whatever you might aim it at generates a combination of emotions that is hard to describe.
Power…..I’m grown up now; no longer a boy. I have been given this power of life or death by other adults who evidently must trust me enough to grant me this privilege.
Pride….. Look at me now…. I can handle this; I am responsible…… I’m a MAN!
Testosterone…….What IS this thing I’m feeling? My pulse is pounding….my heart is beating faster & faster! There it is! Can I get a clear shot at it?!!
The ‘Club’……I’m now a “Hunter”. I’m part of an elite club. I’ve found a new place where I belong.
Andy, the above is where I think it starts for most of us. What I think is important to reflect upon is that this is only one of the many rites of passage of boy to man…..First date, first dance, first car, first girl, first love, first job……..
Make no mistake…..the combination of emotions above are those of a boy….not a man. Some never outlive that first rush, and carry it with them for the rest of their lives; others do, and go to a different place.
Methinks many of us never come to grips with the full reality of death, and because of that never value life as highly as we should. Death becomes depersonalized…..It’s something that happens to others, not to us. To those that get to that place, hunting for ‘sport’ is simply a form of self-gratification.
Last year I wrote an essay that I posted in The Lounge entitled “My Last Hunt”. In it I did my best to share some of those feelings of long ago.
Should any reader be interested, it can be found here:
http://forumserver.twoplustwo.com/showfl...p;vc=1&nt=3
If you take the time to read it, there is a ‘prequel’ to that story. I will share it here now……..
After coming back from ‘Nam and prior to my last hunt, I went squirrel hunting with my younger brother. For those of you who have never eaten squirrel, it is quite tasty. I hadn’t for four years, so off we went.
Brother Steven had my shotgun, and I had my grandfather’s pre-1900 octagonal barrel 22. Back in the day, I was quite a good shot. It was a fearsomely accurate gun that could chamber 22 long rifle loads: I once picked off a running squirrel with it at 40 paces. I preferred it when hunting squirrels over a shotgun.
It wasn’t long before we saw our first squirrel: It was clamoring way up high in the branches of a very large oak tree. Not all the leaves were off the trees yet, so it was hard to get a bead on it, so I told Steven to take it with the shotgun. He did, and down out of the branches it tumbled and hit the ground close to us.
But, it was not dead. He had hit it in the hindquarters, and it was still alive. Not only that, but it was clearly a young squirrel, as it was very small. It was dragging itself along the ground with it’s’ forelegs and crying out in pain, looking directly at us.
I took the 22 and put it out of its’ suffering.
I paused for a moment, turned to my brother and told him…. “Let’s go home; we’re done for today”. He looked at me with understanding eyes, and without a word, we walked out of the woods, got to the car and silently drove home.
In hindsight, I believe that it was at that exact period in my life that I had the awareness that I now carry with me surrounding the meaning of death. It was for me the culmination of all of the horror, pain and suffering I had seen halfway around the other side of the world.
It was very powerful and very personal, and as I write these words I am actually trembling with the remembrance of it.
On that particular day long ago I believe that I became a man.
If any reader would like to try to get in touch with that feeling, let me suggest the following to you.
Find a movie called Powder
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0114168/
In this movie there is a scene where a very avid hunter kills a deer. I don’t wish to describe it in detail: I wish for you to see it and experience it. If you have seen it, or if you search it out and watch it, it is the thing that most closely approximates the emotions of what I’m trying to express.
Phat Mack posted a link to a Thoreau essay on hunting elsewhere in this thread. He characterized the essence of Thoreau’s thoughts elegantly.
Read it and reflect upon it……..