Possible

 

On Saturday I busted out early to attend a day-long hunter safety certification course up in the rural fringes of St Johnsbury. It was yet another in the seemingly endless stream of halcyon days we’ve been granted, although by gum we could use a shot of rain. Already, we’re in a rotation of endless and, given our rudimentary technology (water tank and garden hose), rather tiresome watering: Garlic, onion transplants, orchards, and so on.

There’s not a whole lot to say about the class other than to note my surprise at the rampant militarization of hunting. Or maybe it was just this particular class, which was led by a bevy of retired servicemen and law enforcement officers. Whatever the case, the weaponry on hand – and there was a lot – leaned combative. There were sinister AR15′s and semi-auto .45 caliber hand guns, and much of the day was devoted to firing deadly projectiles into shredded tire-filled backstops. It felt to me more like a gun course, than a hunting course, although I suppose there’s not a whole lot of daylight between the two and safe firearm handling is a rather crucial element to hunting.

Still and all, with the way my imperfect mind works, I couldn’t help but marvel at the extent to which industry and commerce has infringed on the elemental and powerful act of taking an animal’s life to sustain your own. Perhaps this is in part because it seems to me as if few hunters view the process in these terms anymore. Sure, they might consume what they kill, but the prevailing ethos seems to be one of sport and bragging rights, rather than sustenance. More than once I heard it opined that one of the best parts of actually bagging an animal was making the rounds to family and friends to show off your kill. Not once did I hear anyone suggest that it might be appropriate to give thanks to the animals whose life was taken, or to leave an offering to whatever spirits might stand quietly at our sides.

None of this is intended to denigrate the good and generous people who volunteered their time to offer the course. They were, to a one, gracious, kind, and patient. But I can’t help wondering if the actual tools we utilize to hunt animals actually inform our relationship to the creature and the process. To walk into the woods with an assault rifle (highly recommended for deer hunting, at least amongst this crowd), with such enormous capacity for death literally at your fingertips, must somehow inform our relationship to the act of killing and to the creature that will die.

It is possible that it makes these relationships more informal and less reverent? I do not have the context to know for certain, but yes, I think it is possible.

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Thank you all for the incredibly thoughtful comments over the past couple of posts. It is my intention to address a few of them in detail, but for the time being, I need to give my poor, addled brain a short break.