It is huntin’ season up in Spiritwood. I don’t hunt. Not because of any ethical or moral reasons. Saskatchewan hunters don’t generally trophy shoot but they hunt for meat and do it responsibly and have for hundreds of years. There are some great stories about my grandpa Jenner and one fall hunting near Kindersley in the 1960’s. Apparently one of people hunting with him accidently shot a crane and excitingly came up the group with it’s neck over the shoulder and the feet dragging on the ground. After calling the RCMP (cranes were protected even then), the police chose not to press charges and I think they ate the bird for Thanksgiving. Anyways hunting in Saskatchewan and the prairies is passed down from generation to generation. The reason I don’t hunt is that I can’t shoot. I am a horrible shot. Not a bad shot in Tribes but in the real world, I can’t shoot. Dean Angell once said, “there is nothing worse then missing the deer than when the deer steps on your foot after you’ve missed.” That would be me. Now let’s say by some reckless richochet that I hit a deer, I don’t think I could clean it. Thinking about it makes my stomach flip. I hit a deer a couple of years ago on the highway. Luckily the guy who stopped when I hit it, put it out of its misery. I enjoy the camraderie and the wandering through the bush but put a gun in my hand and… well nobody or no animal would get hurt either way but I would humiliate myself even more.
What provokes this post is that someone from the church is on the phone right now, mocking me for not being able to shoot or hunt. I deserve it. Mock away. I have let my ancestors down.