My fingers slide under the muscle, separating it from the layer below. My knife snips tendons and traces the curvature of bone. I add the slab of venison to one of the 13×9 pans on the kitchen counter. Hours ago, this leg was a deer. In the early morning light, the animal was moving somewhere … Read more
When I was a vegetarian, I had no clue why modern people hunted. Now that I hunt, I still puzzle over it. Every hunter has his or her own reasons, of course. I wonder mostly about my own, and even there it’s often hard to lay claim to certainty. Of two things, though, I feel … Read more
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
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
“Is this venison?” Our friend had just spooned several meatballs onto his plate. I replied that yes, indeed, it was. Sensing an edge to the question, I decided not to elaborate on how I’d shot the five-point buck within a half-mile of the house that November. “I don’t mind,” he said and nodded toward his … Read more