bambi

Yes, I know it's old to bring up Bambi when you see a hunter, even a hunter with a buck strapped to the roof of his pickup, its tongue lolled out to the side. I had just finished meditating and was taking the fresh gingersnaps out of the oven when I heard some geese. Could they be flying that close to the house, I wondered, then my stepson walked into the house, blowing a goosecall.

"Isn't this cool? It costs $150," he said. Well, at least I'm glad to see his hard-earned money went for something essential like that, and not some silly thing like gas or food.

"This is my quiet time," I told him. He snorted and said, "I'm going outside to bother the dogs."

I took a deep breath, trying to remember my mindfulness techniques, and listened to the dogs start howling.

"That's enough, Jordan," I yelled out the back door.

"PLEASE come goose hunting with us," he said later, leaning into me, teasing.

"While there's nothing more I would like than to go out and kill some beautiful, defenseless creatures, I've got other plans," I told him. Years ago he tried to bait me by threatening to join the Army. Finally I told him I thought it was a great idea, and that I thought he'd be just perfect for the Army. He never brought it up again.

What is it that makes people want to turn a gun (or bow, or whatever) on another being, in the hopes of ending its life? Don't use the line that we're "helping" the deer so they don't starve. If we hadn't "helped" already by eliminating all of their natural predators, we wouldn't be needing to "help" now by killing them. Now, lest you think I'm a horrible hypocrite, I surprised myself last summer by actually ENJOYING taking down the deer in a video game - it was fun, it was a challenge... it was fake. Or is it the same? I don't know. Maybe it's an overabundance of testerone that makes us want to beat our chests and bring home the meat for our family. But hey, Lynn Brakke's just a phone call away, with all the organic beef you could want, so that's not it. Is it a disregard for life? I eat meat, and I like it, I wear leather, and I like it, and I also like life. I know someone who really likes to use their gun to take out little field mice, squirrels and rabbits - "You shoulda seen that one pop up into the air," he says excitedly. Really? I can't imagine. I cry when I run over an animal in the road, and say an "I'm sorry" and a little prayer.

So, tell me, what is it with hunters? I understand loving the outdoors, but it doesn't have to involve trying to KILL anything. I understand wanting to spend time with others, but you can do that over tea, lunch, or just sitting on the porch swing. I understand primal urges, but there ARE those nifty little video games. I understand the nutrition of wild meat; okay, there you've got me. That's ONE argument I can buy, but I think it's best just to admit that you love to kill - you love the excitement of the chase, the not-knowing if you'll "get" your prey, the pride when you do, and the re-telling of the story over and over again.

They found a young bull moose in Bismarck and kept it for a while, tagged it, then let it go. The recent news story said that a hunter had killed it. Seriously, so what was the rescue for if we just turn around and blow it away? What are WE supposed to do, as individuals, to make a difference? My son says one person can't make a difference (when he's watching me recycle), but I tell him that one person is the only one that CAN make any difference. Do I love hunters? Yes, my husband and stepson hunt. Do I love what they do? No - I'm honest. I don't. I don't understand it, nor do I understand when someone I know tells me (proudly) that they just killed an animal that's extinct in another part of the world. And it only cost them $50,000 to do it, if I'm remembering my stories clearly. I can't understand spending $50,000 for the privilege to kill an animal, nor can I understand even wanting to kill an animal that's extinct in some other country. I can't understand having dead animals in your house (okay, we've got an old deer's head in our garage somewhere, and some sheepskin rugs lying around), but a whole animal? I would rather just look at them, and thank them for being here on the earth to share their beauty with me.

I love the geese, I do - I know they do stinky things on lawns, but they're good parents, and Mom and Dad watch them every year, teaching their young to get food and fly. When I mention geese, my stepson says, "Kaboom," and grabs an imaginary rifle, shooting it. "Yeah, I love 'em, too," he says. I don't understand, and I know I'm not perfect, or else I wouldn't eat meat, or eggs, or yogurt, or wear leather or furs, but still, what IS it about hunting? And why does it make me so sad when I think about it?