‘Gone killing’

Hunters and anglers, writes Marc Bekoff in Animals Matter, “often like to hang signs that say ‘Gone Fishin’’ or ‘Gone Huntin’.’ But what these slogans really mean is ‘Gone killing.’” When I opposed hunting, I would—like Bekoff—have objected to the euphemisms. Even catch-and-release fishing, with its professed intent not to kill, often does. Now that … Read more

A hero among us

The first thing I ever heard about my great-uncle Al was that he never gave up. When I started hunting, my mentor—my mother’s brother, Uncle Mark—wanted to impress upon me the vital importance of persistence. So he told me stories about hunting with his uncles in Pennsylvania’s Moshannon State Forest back in the 1960s and … Read more

Reverberations of a kill

“How are you doing?” Cath asked. We were sitting at the kitchen table, having coffee. I waggled one hand: so-so. “I’m in that zone.” She nodded. She’d known before I answered. Less than an hour after sunrise that November morning, she’d heard the shot. From the direction and distance, she’d known who squeezed the trigger. … Read more

Venison from the North Pole

The twinkle in my stepson’s eyes should have told me I was in for it. He and his wife were up from Jersey for a Christmas visit. It was a month after I’d killed my first deer. And we were opening gifts. The box was small. Pushing aside the tissue paper, I saw the silvery … Read more

Kinds of harm

The doe stepped into the road, then trotted across and bounded into the woods as I slowed the car. Cath and I both relaxed. We weren’t going fast, but that had been close. Then the second doe was there, very close, pausing at the edge of the road. I caught the flash of movement at … Read more

Meat in the city

When I lived in Brooklyn in the early 1990s, I wouldn’t have gone hunting. For one thing, I found the idea of killing animals reprehensible. For another, I would have attracted police attention if I’d hiked over to Prospect Park toting a squirrel rifle. Not that firearms were taboo in the neighborhood where I had … Read more

A call for rabbit

The man called about buying some rabbit. My friend Lila—ex-vegetarian and present-day purveyor of fine, homegrown meats—welcomed him to stop by the house late in the day. The rabbit would be cool by then. “You mean it’s still alive right now?” It was. And the caller, perhaps suddenly imagining Thumper hopping happily about, decided not … Read more