In college, studying Mahatma Gandhi’s moral and political philosophy, I was impressed by the twin commitments of his lifelong quest for truth. On the one hand, he lived according to what he saw as the truth, which must, he wrote, “be my beacon, my shield and buckler.” On the other hand, he had the humility [...]
Posts Tagged ‘deer’
Ceremony for a meal
Kneeling beside my first deer, I had no words. I just sat there stunned, my hand on his shoulder, uncertain whether I would ever hunt again. Finally, I whispered something clumsy: half gratitude, half apology. The next year, when my second deer dropped in his tracks, I was shaken but less shocked. I spoke my [...]
Monkeys, venison, and the sentience of dinner
Was that the faint sound of steps? Of hooves crunching dry leaves under the thin blanket of snow? Seated on the ground, I shifted to the right and half-raised my .54 caliber caplock. Moments later, I saw deer some forty yards off, walking toward me among the pines. Two, three, four of them. I brought [...]
An accidental trophy
Even with the leaves damp and quiet, I heard the buck coming. And even through the branches and brush, I saw enough antler to know he was no off-limits spikehorn. When he stepped around the big hemlock twenty yards away, my rifle was up. In the periphery of my mind, the antlers registered: maybe six [...]
Blueberries and venison: The gift of wild foods
Cath and I looked at the ground in surprise. We had visited this rocky hilltop many times. It was here, some eight years earlier, that I had asked her to marry me. We had often seen these low bushes clinging to the meager soil. We had never seen them fruiting. The patch of green leaves [...]
Meditation with meat and knife
My fingers slide under the muscle, separating it from the layer below. My knife snips tendons and traces the curvature of bone. I add the slab of venison to one of the 13×9 pans on the kitchen counter. Hours ago, this leg was a deer. In the early morning light, the animal was moving somewhere [...]
A buck looks back: Quirk or gift?
Reaching my spot in the woods that morning, I had no illusions about my chances of seeing a legal buck. My first three years, I had come up empty-handed. My fourth year, I had gotten lucky. This was my fifth year. Given that only one in eight Vermont hunters tags a whitetail each autumn, I [...]
‘Gone killing’
Hunters and anglers, writes Marc Bekoff in Animals Matter, “often like to hang signs that say ‘Gone Fishin’’ or ‘Gone Huntin’.’ But what these slogans really mean is ‘Gone killing.’” When I opposed hunting, I would—like Bekoff—have objected to the euphemisms. Even catch-and-release fishing, with its professed intent not to kill, often does. Now that [...]
Legacies to leave by the roadside
Smeared with blood and deer hair, the rubber gloves had been tossed by the roadside. Next to them lay a chunk of guts. The trash couldn’t be missed by anyone who parked at the hiking trail access the hunters had used. By then I’d stopped being surprised. In only my second year as a hunter, [...]
Reverberations of a kill
“How are you doing?” Cath asked. We were sitting at the kitchen table, having coffee. I waggled one hand: so-so. “I’m in that zone.” She nodded. She’d known before I answered. Less than an hour after sunrise that November morning, she’d heard the shot. From the direction and distance, she’d known who squeezed the trigger. [...]