I’m not a hunter. It’s just something that I don’t want to do on many fronts. Nobody in my family ever hunted and nobody in my husband’s family either. I am not against hunting – in season, for purpose (that doesn’t include trophies) and within guidelines that protect people and the species hunted. Removing all ethical considerations, I can understand the satisfaction found in the successful challenge of tracking and accurately hitting a bullseye. So, I sit in the middle of the fence – it is not something I want to do, but I respect responsible hunters’ right to hunt for food – especially if it is part of their culture – such as in our Inuit and Native communities here in Canada. I just don’t want to myself. Just like I don’t really want to know where bacon comes from.
I am a bit squeamish. I don’t want to see death or blood, or know that my actions caused the death and blood. You’d think this would carry through to my “family” as well, but frankly when Beavis shows up with yet another chipmunk in his teeth – I am really proud of him. After all, he started out as an indoor condo cat – who didn’t go outside willingly until he was 8 years old. And he is tied up on his leash – a long one granted – but restrictive.
Beavis doesn’t even eat the chipmunks – which I am really thankful for because I don’t want to have to clean up the guts (see squeamish above). I really think he thinks that they are playing together. (if you can consider sharp teeth sinking into your abdomen “playing”). The play date eventually becomes less fun. So then he tosses the poor fellows in the air assumingly for resuscitation purposes. Bored, eventually Beavis just wanders off in search of new cat chores to perform. But not before he sits near his kill for a while with an aura of smugness. I am sure that it is smugness. It couldn’t be shame. I should condemn him for it, but I seem to be just proud
July 4th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary: Reduction of the chipmunk population in a 20 metre circle in our back yard. Excuse me now, I have to go bury a chipmunk.
The Daily EO 
A little bit of family history for you – your paternal grandfather, Ken, did some hunting – deer, elk, etc.
Good to know – perhaps that is where my tolerance for Beavis comes from.