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| Mr. Winker at the range |
Every November the hunters in my life come to my heart in full force. I think of my father mostly. He is a hunter in every sense of the word and last year I wrote a bit about him in my
Sense of Place post. When I was just a tweeny pup I signed up for hunter's safety class with my dad. I HATED it. I despised the idea of killing and couldn't seem to keep my eyes open in class. Somehow I convinced my "never quit" parents to allow me to do just that and I stopped going. My dad's hopes of having a daughter to hunt with quickly disappeared and I'm quite certain I rolled my eyes about it.
I was gifted a year of Animal's Agenda magazine that I hoarded in my closet and read and sobbed over the images that came to me in the mail each month vowing never to harm an animal ever, never ever. Most of my high school years were spent being a horribly nutrient poor vegetarian while my mother smothered me with protein consisting of peanut butter sandwiches and Carnation Instant Breakfast. I would walk through the woods behind our home and urinate underneath the tree stands while my father wondered where all the deer had gone. I remember many fits when I would come down stairs in the morning and see a gun sitting by the back door where my dad had just taken a rabbit or a squirrel. There were many tears. I didn't understand how he could be so uncaring for the animals and I'm sure he couldn't understand how he ended up having a daughter with my beliefs.
Fast forward 12 years well into my pregnancy with Arlo. I had the unquenchable craving for meat like an itch that couldn't be scratched - particularly roast beef. Certainly I was lacking in protein and nutrients and my body was begging for a bone. After many days of struggling with this craving I broke down and drove through Hardees asking how many roast beefs I could get for a handful of change. It was not my best moment, inhaling fast food in the parking lot with a growing baby in my belly! I have since fully recovered from my vegetarianism days.
Fast forward a few more years and here I am, a farmer raising pastured non GMO chickens. I have found a middle road with meat. I like to eat it, I enjoy it and I like to take care of my animals so they are healthier and happier before they are in my belly.
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| 410 shotgun - oldie but a goodie |
A couple years ago we had a red squirrel problem. Our loyal mutt Scout was a great squirrel taker-care-ofer but there was one that she couldn't quite manage and we enjoyed watching their shenanigans. One day, we came home to half of the siding ripped off of the house where the squirrel went in and the dog went after. There was Scout, sitting under that tree just waiting for the squirrel to come down. The thought came to me "get the gun". Craig looked at me briefly then realized that I was totally serious-he had NEVER seen me shoot a gun and knew I wasn't a hunting fan etc...but he acted quickly before I changed my mind. He grabbed the 410 and I aimed quick and one shot later the job was done. Now, I'm by no means saying that I didn't feel bad for that squirrel, I really did. BUT I felt a new feeling to, a feeling that I had done something that helped my family in a small way. The dog ate the squirrel and the siding quickly went back up and that was that. I killed an animal and thank goodness it was a good shot. As a girl I had taken a shot into the cedar at my grandparent's in Iowa when my brother taunted me that I could never kill a bird (he got $0.05/bird). After enough pestering, I grabbed the gun and shot at a noise only to maim a young sparrow that my dad had to put down for me.
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| hunter's safety 2015 |
It wasn't more than a couple years later that I decided to give hunter's safety another shot (no pun intended but haha, that was a good one!). What an awesome thing that my father was my teacher! We had a blast (again, haha) I learned a lot and didn't feel so afraid of guns. I outshot my father on the range...twice and maybe, just maybe I'll get a turkey tag this fall. Maybe just maybe I'll get a deer tag this fall...maybe next year. Somehow I feel a little closer to feeling comfortable with putting some meat in my freezer but it is all the in between that I worry about. The possible suffering is enough to cause me to pause. I think that hunting is more of a ceremony, much more than just killing. I really like
the video from The Ways is a really great perspective helping you see the hunt differently, more deeply.
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| Caleb doing his thing at the river |
This weekend is Caleb's first deer hunt. He took class with his grandpa and cousin last year and has taken to the fields for geese and ducks but not deer. This is my boy who rarely keeps a fish and had pockets full of live things as a child. Craig fondly remembers him picking a wood tick out of the toilet to let it go outside. I also have a memory, not a soft one, where he made a huge spider's web in our backyard out of sewing string and accidentally caught a bird. At first he was excited but it became clear that the bird was going to die as it became so entangled. We both cried and cried. He is a lover with a huge heart but he is also a boy watching his elders go out to the hunt and bring meat home for their families. It probably helped him commit to the hunt when his cousin tagged his first deer last week. So off my first baby goes into the woods with my dad and the tradition, ritual continues.
As a mom I think lots of things. I hope he has a great time, I hope he sees deer and if he decides to take a shot that it's a good one and if it's not...that it doesn't break his heart. But he is with the best person that could handle any situation that could possibly present itself on a hunt, my father.
