Why I Gave Up Hunting

The following letter, published by the Register-Guard, in 2013,  is still relevant in my opinion

I follow the hunting debate with interest.  In Ohio, in the l940s, shot guns were plugged to allow three shots.  After three misses, the game deserved a walk.  Quail were song birds, not hunted.  I recently wrote the following memoir of this hunter at age 14.         

“Eventually the rabbit circled around, as they always do, towards his burrow.  I saw him running up along the ridge of a meadow some 30 yards away. I quickly raised my shotgun and fired without thinking at all.  The rabbit tumbled.   I ran over to him, surprised to have made such a good shot, my heart beating wildly."    

"He lay entirely still and was looking directly at me with large brown fearful eyes.  He was exhausted from running, his small body steaming in the cold.  His gentle warm eyes were so familiar.  I could feel the pulsing of his body in mine.  I knew what I been taught to do, however much I dreaded doing it. I took his hind legs in my hand, placed my booted foot gently on his head and pulled, amazed at how easily his lower body separated from his head. Tufts of gray fur with speckles of blood in them made a ring around his neck.  I carried his headless body by the hind legs to my father who placed the decapitated rabbit in a pouch around the back of his khaki hunting coat. 

             

“Well done, son.” Father said.  “That was a good shot.”    

I never hunted again.”