The Hunter ©

Am I the great white hunter?
I remember the few times I have gone hunting.
My father used to take me out with him if I wanted to go or not. He used to shoot rabbits mostly, but I have gone with other people who hunted deer and moose and bear. I don’t know why the fuck anyone would want to hunt bear for but they did.
I find it strange to have to kill some creature. I love animals, but yet I went along.
I really don’t like deer meat or moose meat for that matter and as far as bear goes I’m not eating anything that was capable of eating Me. (GF excluded).
I’m a crack shot, my father and uncles saw to that. They had my cousins and me shooting apples out of trees from the age of ten. We were skilled with the bow as well. Bow season is longer.
My father could never understand why I never killed anything and was rather pissed about it. The fact of the matter was I didn’t want to.
He forced me once to shoot at a rabbit and as I pulled the trigger my dog snoopy popped out of the bush and the blast of the shoot gun almost hit him.
I turned around and mumbled some words, called the dog who I’m sure saw its life pass before his eyes and went to the car, where I proceeded to put away my gun.
You’ll never feed your family my father said.
Yes I will I retuned, the market is down the street. They killed 30-40 rabbits that day.
Another time I went with a couple friends, we were going deer hunting. One of them thought he was Daniel Boone for fuck sakes. We wouldn’t give him a gun so he took off and I found him later in a tree. What are you doing up there I asked. He replied deer hunting. Since you won’t give me a gun, I’m going to wait up here until a deer walks by and then I’ll jump on its back and stab it to death with this knife and holds up a hunting knife. I’m thinking he has a better chance of him winning the lottery before that happens, but if it does with his luck he’ll land on a buck and get skewered.
I told him to get down and stop being an idiot.
I kept on walking through the woods and I happened to come across a doe and her fawn. I had a doe license and according to the law I had to shoot both and not leave the young one alone to suffer. That really sounds humane to me. Right. I was close enough to touch them. I could see the big brown eyes as they looked at me.
Two shots, 25 cents each and for 50 cents, I could load the freezer with meat, I had to kill two creatures.
I walked up to the car and my friends were there and Kevin asks me, did you see anything over that way.
No was my reply, there’s nothing in this area but bugs and idiots in trees.
Now I won’t leave you believing I have not shot anything, there was 1 time and only once that I have actually killed and animal, in this case two with a gun.
I was hunting with Kevin again and we had gone in an area I like to go to because it was beautiful just to see, what ever season it was. There had been a lot of snow over the last few days and the drifts were 3-4 feet deep. We were out for partridge or rabbits.
It was cold and I wanted to go home. I was only there to keep him company and the only use I had for the gun was to fire it off and grab the barrel to keep my hands warm.
After a couple of hours in the bush and the gallon of coffee I had drunk, forced me to go for a pee.
So I go up to a tree and lean the gun safely across, and start undoing the layers of clothes so I can go. I’m standing there with my pecker in the wind when a group a of partridge walks out 30 yards in front of me and just wander around not even showing that they had seen me. What to do? What to do?
This was going to be my first kill in almost 20 years of hunting. I slowly reach down for my gun, and yes my pecker is still hanging out there freezing.
Inch by inch i reach down and I get my hand on it (the gun). I slowly pick it up, always keeping my eyes on the birds. I saw that they had noticed me so I whip up the shotgun to my shoulder and pulled the trigger like I was taught. One swift motion, 2 seconds and it was done. I drop the gun in the snow and start doing up my pants. That done I pick up the shotgun and headed to where the partridge were to see if I had hit anything. I didn’t have far to go, there were 2 dead birds on the ground. They were so close I hit 2 with one shot. I picked them up and looked at them. It’s strange, I was pleased that I hit them but I wasn’t happy about it.
I got back to the car and Kevin was there and he asked me what you hit. How did you know I hit anything I asked? He told me because I know. I pulled out the birds and he was impressed so I told him he could have them and he protested but after awhile he said ok but they are dinner next Saturday at my place. I said cool.
I never went to his place the next Saturday.
I have never gone hunting again.
I still have the gun though and I don’t really know why.
A shrink would probably say it’s a penis thing, but I have no desire to shoot my dick off.
I have nothing against hunting for those who want to do it as long as it’s for food. I don’t believe in doing it for the sport, just as I believe in the catch release program for fishing.
My father has a stuffed partridge in his dining room; I asked him when he dies if I could have it. He said yes.
I will give it a good burial.










Walker