Why You Did Shoot Me?

Why did you kill me?Okay, I know, you would rather I didn’t shoot you. I understand. There’s a lot of people out there who might not understand why I did it either. But let’s face it, you were going to die that day anyway.I hate to sound unsympathetic, but your mountain was a very popular place to find deer of your particular size. I was fortunate enough to have the chance of hunting there. I went with my dad, my cousin and a couple of business associates.After a couple of days of hiking and searching for what could very well be my best chance for a trophy deer, I found you. Keep in mind that I wasn’t the only person in my party with a gun.If I’d passed you up, someone else would have pulled the trigger.You were a big buck on a limited entry permit. What else could you expect?Sure, I understand the argument that you and granola crunching people make: Humans are always hunting the biggest and strongest of the species, causing them to disappear. That all works into this 6th extinction that you hear now days. Whether you trust in evolution or not, the fact remains that animals got big and strong to survive the wilds. Humans did not get bigger or stronger, with very few chemically aided exceptions. We got smarter, or at least we got smarter than you and the other animals. Somehow in that jumble, we decided that in order to survive and thrive, we had to kill the biggest and the strongest of other species. Less larger animals, less threat to us. After all, how can we compete against animals that are bigger, stronger, and faster than us if we don’t kill them off?Frankly, I’m usually happy killing the smaller of your species. They taste better. But I’d never gotten a big buck before. Maybe it’s genetics, maybe it’s cultural. Put the blame wherever you want. In the end, while humans can survive on plants, we’re also predators in our own way. I think many people are starting to see this. I’ve been a hunter and a fisher most of my life. I’ll continue to do so, though I do much less now than before.So while you weren’t my first kill, you won’t likely be my last. You should at least take some comfort in knowing that I really do respect you—enough so, that I didn’t waste any of your meat. I tanned your hide. I also had you stuffed as a memorial to my predatory prowess and to your beauty. Your perfectly preserved head will likely look better than mine in another 100 years. If I could, I would choose to be remembered in much the same way.Maybe I should put that in my will, to have my head removed, stuffed and displayed openly across the threshold of my offspring’s front entry. Of course, by then, I fully expect to be a national treasure—an author of great renown. I’m sure only the Smithsonian would be able to hold my remains, along with all the throngs of admiring public that will eventually want to behold my face. If this ever happens, rest assured, I’ll request that you be mounted in the display case next to me.But until that day, I look forward to coming into work and hanging my hat on your impressive rack. Thank you for your sacrifice.Any more questions? Back to FAQ~>