Hunting: Food and Family

Hunting: Food and Family

By Ariel Engel
Essex High School, Grade 11

Hunting is something I've always wanted to do. My dad's been a big hunter ever since I can remember, always taking a week off during November to spend time at his camp with friends.

A few years ago, I went to GMCC (Green Mountain Conservation Camp) to get my Orange Card in order to get my hunting license. We learned how to shoot .22s, muskets (black powder weapons) and use a bow and arrows. We were taught how to determine where to shoot an animal for one shot, one kill deals. We went through rigorous training on determining safe shots depending on the type and number of the animals, whether or not the animal was in season, and also determining if there was a good backstop or if we were shooting into a safe zone. I wound up getting the highest score in camp for the test and acquiring my first Orange Card. I went back the year after with a friend so she could get her Orange Card while I reinforced my hunting knowledge.

Last year, my dad took me hunting for the first time. The first few weekends in November, he took me to camp for target practice. I tried different rifles and black powder weapons and found one that suited me. When hunting season started, he set me up with the .38 caliber weapon I'd been using for practice and placed me on the end of the logging road. I sat on a stump surrounded by tall pines, hunter's orange hat on my head and rifle in my hands, facing away from where my dad had taken off to go work on camp. Every time I heard a branch snap or saw something move, I twitched.

During my time alone, I realized I wasn't ready to take a life. There was a bird chirping somewhere and I remembered a time when I was about ten; I had found a nest with some eggs in it during a tree-climb. I'd tapped on an egg with a twig but it shattered, leaving some bloody mucus to pool out of the shell. It made me sick, knowing that I had taken a life. The same chirping brought me back from my cursed memory. I unloaded my weapon and started walking up to camp. My dad met me halfway on the trail, apologizing for leaving me alone. He said that hunting wasn't too much fun by yourself, especially your first time.

I've come to believe that any "hunting" that I do won't be for killing, it'll be to spend time with family and friends. If I change my mind about killing animals, shooting a deer or two would be nice, but I'm not worried about that right now. Hunting is just as much family time as it is having some variation in food - for me, family time is far more important.