I’m No Hunter

I don’t know how it is elsewhere in the country, but most men wait with bated breath for Thanksgiving and it has nothing to do with frying turkeys or football games. No, they await the cool weather so they can go hunting.

The men in my family haven’t been hunting in years. It was one of my stepfather’s favorite pastimes, something he looked forward to. Not that he ever shot anything, but because it’s what he did. He wasn’t gung-ho about it either. I had an uncle who wouldn’t allow his wife to wash any of his clothes with detergent. Oh, and the sheets either. Everything had to be scent-free so the deer wouldn’t smell him.

However, I remember this week as being the preparation for hunting. Now, working in a male dominated workplace, I see it again. Most men take the whole week of Thanksgiving off to head to their leases, prepare their deer stands, and wait for the big one to come along. But it isn’t just men. I know a lot of women who hunt with their husbands, or boyfriends. I know of one man who’s taking both of his teenage daughters with him. (Not that he expects them to do anything but complain about how boring it is and OMG Daddy! You killed Bambi!)

That’s why I never went hunting. Sure, there was a point in my mid to late teens when I thought about going with the men in the family. Not that I had a great, burning desire to shoot anything, but because the woods seem so quiet and hushed and relaxing. I was also learning how to shoot at that time and I think that, more than anything, prompted my stepfather to say “not just no, but hell no” since I have a habit of shooting 3″ above my target. *cough*

I mention this because my baby boy (the college aged one) and his girlfriend have been hunting this week. No deer, just rabbits. I have no problem with eating rabbit or deer or wild pig, but killing it myself? I can’t do it. I cried when the boys had to kill a possum a few years ago. I didn’t want the poor, nasty thing to suffer. This compassion does not include snakes, by the way. Just letting you know.

So no, you won’t find me wearing camo and hiding in a tree waiting for a pretty, regal buck to walk out of the woods because I’d be more inclined to go “oooh” than “boom”. I don’t have a problem eating him, of course…I do love deer roast, but I prefer to let the boys play at hunter and bring the food home to me.


Filed under Family

2 responses to “I’m No Hunter

  1. I’m not a hunter either, but I do enjoy traipsing in the woods. My dad is big on woods-time. He belongs to a hunting club and they tend to and baby it all year. He goes out to feed, clear brush, etc all through the year. He loves it, but I think it’s more for the silence and quiet time than anything.

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