Hunting
When I was young, my dad used to go hunting on Thanksgiving morning. The one memory that stands out is of watching my dad in our own yard. I was standing at the kitchen door looking out. The door was still by the kitchen counter, before they closed it in and moved the entrance to the wall on the other side of the room from the kitchen counter. I was probably in my middle teens at that time.
Dad kicked out a bunny, probably from our berry patch. I got so excited and was really into the chase as I watched. I think I jumped up and down and shouted, "Get him! Get him!" And then it was over. The bunny ran away and my dad didn't get him and I calmed down.
And then I thought, "How could I do that!" I didn't really want my dad to kill that bunny. I was very glad when it escaped, but for a few seconds there, I was wrapped up in that blood chase. I felt so confulsed about how that could have happened to me for those few seconds. I don't think that's ever happened to me again.
I don't remember much about Dad hunting after that. I know he stopped hunting somewhere around the time I was growing up and leaving home. I was glad for him to stop hunting.
Submitted by
NJ
at 11/26/2004 12:02:09 PM- I just got caught up in the thrill of the chase. I can get excited about seeing a football player pull away from the pack and head for the goal. I don't care much about football but seeing the runner outdistance the pack is exciting to me. Then, I'm usually always rooting for the runner to score, not the pack to catch him. The bunny thing was so unlike me and I surprised myself. (At high school football games, I root for the band!)
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Maybe you were just rooting for your Dad because you knew that's what he was trying to accomplish(?)
Hunting is something I've always had a tough time with but I do understand its purpose. Bow hunting is particularly objectionable to me when the hunter's a bad shot.