Hello my dear Steemians,
The passion for hunting is the prerogative of my mother's family, that I owe it. With a small rifle, from the age of 13, I started to learn shooting. My uncle, my eldest by twenty years, made a point of inoculating me with this good virus that would accompany me all my life. Since then, the hunt had become a ritual that I followed over the years with as much reverence as pleasure.
To tell the truth, the foretaste of this passion had been for the child that I was, the very pleasant memory of partridges that my uncles or my grandfather brought back, especially when my mother or my aunt made a sauce out of them. with cumin which everyone was fond of.
Once a week, on Sunday, we forget our status, our worries, our usual activity, to think only of the joys of the open air in pursuit of good game. In the cold morning, We were hard at work from six o'clock in the morning, to meet in the mountains.
The pleasures that hunting offers to those who are lovers of it and the prospect of the delicacies tasted when one returns with a well-filled game bag, are certainly legitimate. But the fact remains that the spectacle of a beautiful bird circling in the sky before falling on the ground, is undoubtedly less pleasant. And it was with a pinch in my heart that I saw these beautiful and innocent beasts, paying the cruel tribute of our good pleasure.
We practice hunting in different ways, depending on the seasons, but also on the circumstances and perhaps also our mood. The real hunting, the one to which we gladly indulged, concerns partridges, doves and hares in summer, and thrush in winter. A healthy emulation prevails between us. But every time one of the group misses, the classic joke is that the bird lives long.
How to explain his passion for hunting to those who know nothing about it?
I come to you because I find myself very (too?) often confronted with having to explain my passion for hunting to people who know nothing about it. Who see us as meat eaters (thank you strangers for this sketch yet so funny that sticks to our skin...)
Very often when I explain my passion to people my age, they come out that I am a cruel assassin who likes to make animals suffer, that hunting is bad that we don't need it, I'll pass you on. surely know the song.
No matter how much I explain that hunting is a necessity, that species must be regulated to preserve the various ecosystems, protect crops and avoid epizootics, that I feed on what I hunt there always comes a rather delicate moment is to explain the "pleasure of killing".
I say kill, although we can say take but the fact is that we kill the animal and people only have this word in their mouths "kill".
I try to explain that satisfaction is not the act of killing itself, but rather the culmination of a whole process, such as an approach or a hide and all the emotions that this generates, that the animal has its chance, that it is only killed if it meets certain criteria and that often it does not realize what is happening to it, the result is often the same: "Ah in fact you kill for your pleasure you're sick"...
In short, often faced with "ecological boo" that I consider to be in rather bad faith, I lower my arms and turn to less hermetic people.
I turn to you to find out if you may have had the right words in front of others or if you are facing the same remarks as me as well?
Cc:-
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