the IDIOT

last year i wrote this article for LewRockwell.com, where i spoke of my worries that i ate meat but had never killed an animal for food. i got a few hunting invitations from the article, and did follow up on one of them from a guy i’d spoken with before — travis, from montana. i originally went out to idaho with travis and his pals to hunt elk, but by the time i got there he’d seen so few elk that i thought it wiser to get a deer tag.

because of several things (weather, me getting there very late, etc.), travis and his friends left before we went on any serious hunts, but i had gotten a start with good hunters, and learned a lot more about camping in backcountry. i put that information to good use the following week, out by myself with nobody around for miles, and with no cell phone reception.

eventually killed a mule deer buck after that, only because the guy i was hunting with was a born hunter who wasn’t noticeably offended by an inept city boy. i did something i swear to avoid in the future: i wounded the animal and didn’t drop it dead on the spot. there were some mitigating reasons, but nothing that i wouldn’t correct the hell out of were i able to live the situation over again. on the bright side, it was a valuable learning experience.

with my friend’s expertise, we tracked the deer and killed it (he fired a crucial shot as i flushed the deer from another direction). whenever i heard “tracking a wounded deer” before, i always imagined a hiking trail that the deer ran on for a half mile or so as it left helpful pools of blood along the way until dying a few feet from the path. not in the bitterroot mountains. there was an occasional game trail here and there, but it was mostly thick brush, fallen trees, slippery snow, and branches in the face. very slow going, and almost impossible to be quiet. while the blood trail was abundant at first, it eventually thinned to where we were lucky to see one small drop every 15 feet. if there hadn’t been snow, we most likely would have lost that deer. as we tracked, i was kicking myself thinking that i’d left a wounded deer out in the woods. all it would have taken was, literally, an extra 2 seconds of chilling out and squeezing the shot properly. like i said, there were reasons to make my errors somewhat forgivable, but not if i ever do that again.

well, as i said, we did find it, down where the dwindling snow on the ground meant he’d be lost without an immediate shot. jamie gratefully provided that shot from the side as i approached from above and diverted the deer’s attention. i’ll be graphic here, only for the sake of what i write after it (and for anyone who’s considering hunting but hasn’t gone yet).

i walked up to the deer, and it was still breathing, though unable to get up. i’d stowed my rifle back in the truck before we started tracking, so i drew my .45 as i approached. i had that creepy feeling that i must soon do something i didn’t want to. there was no misgiving from having shot the deer with my rifle, though i also didn’t enjoy that. however, that was a deer in my scope from just over 100 yards. here i was close to him. he was moving slowly, in pain — quiet except for the slight rustling of the brush. my wondering child mind wanted to stare and worry about this animal, but my logical adult mind raised that pistol without hesitation, pointed it toward the face and eyes that looked directly in mine, and put a bullet through his brain from 5 feet away. had i wanted this deer to live before that, i could not have made it so.

let me correct that though. i did want the deer to live. that’s what bogged down my thinking. i wish that i were not a meat eater. however, i am. and i claim no defense other than evolution. i don’t believe that it’s wrong to kill animals so that i can eat meat. obviously, i’m not alone there, although many people, like i used to, eat meat routinely without considering what a serious thing it is. they hire others to kill their meat for them (often while pretending they’ve done the animal no harm). it’s fine to hire out the killing, except there’s something missing if you haven’t killed directly at some point.

the deer probably died within seconds of my pistol shot. it wasn’t completely still for a minute or so.

jamie said, “dude, you got a buck!”

i nodded. “yeah, i did.” we were standing next to the corpse.

“so are you okay with this?” (he knew of my article and why i came out to idaho.)

“yeah, i’m okay with it. it’s part of life. i’m not happy about it, but then i’m not happy i was put on this earth either.”

jamie laughed. he is one good dude.

he talked me through gutting the deer (one of the strangest things i’ve ever done) while listening to my goofy questions and amazement, then we dragged it down the mountain to the next cut of the logging road. because of jamie’s back, and because i wanted to have the experience, i dragged the deer by myself most of the way. rough work, even when generally downhill. had to be lifted over several fallen trees. i guess it was 160 lbs or so, gutted. didn’t weigh it. my pants and bloody arms smelled like mule deer, a unique scent that transfers quickly. jamie’s recommendation to leave the chest cavity closed (which meant i had to reach up inside past my elbow to cut the throat and juggler vein) was appreciated during the dragging; it kept debris out. the tough deer hide didn’t look at all like it had been dragged.

i skinned the deer back at jamie’s place. i have to hand it to the guy for his patience in talking me through it instead of grabbing the knife out of my hand in disgust. when i’d ask him to show me something, he was so fast it made me laugh. we cut off one backstrap for dinner, hung the carcass for a couple of days, and then jamie cut the meat off the bones and we loaded it into my cooler for the trip home. i dropped the hide off with a taxidermist in montana for tanning. kept my vehicle cold the whole way back, and only needed 3 bags of ice from idaho to maryland for what was probably about 70 lbs of meat. with the ice in sealed freezer bags, laid flat at the top of the cooler, it worked pretty well.

some friends here helped me butcher the meat — steaks, roasts, stew meat, and ground burger. i gave them a good portion for their trouble and assistance. as with everything on this journey, i learned plenty from them as we worked.

that night, i was up late finishing my portion of the butchering. slow work for a newbie, even with good knives. finally, everything was done, with many packages in the freezer, and some burger meat and steaks in the fridge for immediate use.

i’ve been eating the meat every day, mostly in spaghetti sauce. although it may change in the future, every time i sit down for a meal, i think of shooting that deer. i’ll be frank; it’s not pleasant. i enjoy the food, but i feel slightly heartsick while i’m eating. it’s a little hard to eat with gusto, though i feel no guilt. the memory is a continual reminder of the human condition, where we must do things we don’t like, and where everything dies, whether killed by others or just entropy.

as i slit that deer open and pulled out its guts, its fragility screamed at me. the easily ripped ties of its organs mocked what i’m made of. humans — walking chest cavities with organs piled inside, that without extraordinary effort can be emptied out and halted forever. we are temporary.

i think about that whenever i eat this venison, and i’m better for it. i’ll probably eat less meat now, and i’ll retain a respect that i would never have had without killing an animal myself. did it have to be hunting? no. but i think hunting is the most humane system for eating meat. i doubt game can ever be happier than in its natural environment. with clean kills, hunting’s a good method for carnivores.

to anybody who scoffs at modern hunters and all their gizmos, scopes, and high-power rifles that can shoot with deadly accuracy out to 1,000 yards, i say, “fuck you. go try it if you think it’s so easy.”

if you’re a non-hunter who eats fast-food burgers or buys meat at the grocery store, don’t pretend that you’re more humane than a hunter. you aren’t. i doubt that the cow, chicken, or fish in your mouth died of natural causes.

oops, i forgot that fish are different.

Tags: idaho, maryland, montana, spaghetti

Posted 20041122 01:10 under food, guns. Follow responses through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.