Throughout the years it has been interesting to be born on the last day of rifle hunting season. As a child I was bribed to celebrate my birthday early, and every year I delightfully agreed knowing this meant I got to open my presents and eat cake before my actual birthday. To me, this was the only impact that hunting season had on me, but as I have grown older I have developed a stronger opinion about the event.
My dad’s side of the family owns 380 acres of land in Evart, Michigan a town that has a few gas stations, and just got a McDonalds in the last 10 years. This land is absolutely gorgeous, and I am truly blessed to spend summers and falls walking throughout it. We own a small cottage on this land, which has been kept in its original state, a wish of my Grandfather who believes technology ruins the impact nature has on us. I tend to avoid this cottage during the later parts of fall as this is when my whole family piles in to spend their next few weeks hunting. Hunting to me, seems silly being called a sport. I can understand and respect people who hunt as a means for providing meat for their family. What I do not understand is stuffing the heads of deer and mounting them on walls as a trophy or “conversation starter.” How would you feel if deer hunted humans and stuffed their heads placing them on their living room mantels to act as conversation starters? How about if you constantly had to be cautious when walking outside a month every year because deer might dress in clothes to match their surroundings and jump out shooting you? It seems a little silly to me when reversed, which is where my frustration comes into play. Killing something else, especially something that cannot defend itself is not and should not be considered a sport.
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