Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Happiness is a warm gun!


With hunting on the decline, it is important for the whole hunting and gun industries to do all they can to see this sport doesn't die. According to a recent USA Today article, women are now being encouraged to take up the sport.

Here then is Dada's interpretations of what the new hunters -- the women and the girls -- had to say! (NOTE: Dada's misquoted parts in italics.)

From a 14 year old girl:

"Daddy and my brother are always going out in the woods. I wanted to see what it was all about. If it's not hunting season, they are at the hunting club drinking beer or liquor while building stands and blinds or working on the camp house in anticipation of killing something. "

From a state director of "Becoming an Outdoors Woman:"

"If you teach a man to hunt, he goes hunting. If you teach a woman to hunt, the entire family goes hunting. Bringing women into the sport helps us reach so many more people, not to mention animals. Children who are brought up hunting will likely pursue the activity for their entire lives, thus decimating Nature that much quicker!"

Or another:

"Hunting has given me a confidence I haven't had before. I wish I had grown up hunting. You don't have to 'harvest an animal' to have a successful hunt. I love being in the woods before the sun comes up. You hear the birds start chirping, and just before the sun comes over the horizon, you can almost feel the earth waking up. I love being outside; I love seeing nature and then blowing the shit out of it! Seeing the flash from a rifle's muzzle, hearing its sound cracking then echoing across a serene meadow as the smell of spent gunpowder wafts through the brisk morning air embracing your nostrils in the first light of dawn as a large moose slams to the Earth groaning and bleeding just complements the part of nature God left out!"

From the wife of a hunter:

"I married a hunter (deer, turkey). Soon afterwards, he offered to take me on one of his early morning outings and I reluctantly trod along with him. Boy, was I in for a pleasant surprise. Nature at sunrise has to be the greatest show on earth. It seemed like all of God's creatures began coming to life all at once. They must be killed, the noisy bastards!"

From a female carnivore, asked if hunting was not a sport of vegetarians:

"You don't have to kill anything if you hunt. But if you do, you certainly don't have to gut and eat what you kill.

"If you happen to be a vegetarian, you can leave your kill in the woods. With Nature's environment under extreme duress, you can take comfort knowing the carcass you leave behind will be appreciated by other animals that are just dying for something to eat. Man is not the only meat eater in the woods, you know."

10 comments:

Utah Savage said...

I love this piece. I wrote two pieces called My Early History With Guns and another called My Later History With Guns. They are in my Short Story collection. Take a look. You might be surprised. But first let me assure you that I was not a girl enthusiast of the hunt. But I do have a long history with guns. Then I switched to weapons used at closer range, like Louisville Slugger or a straight edge razor.

dada said...

Utah - I had read your wonderfully entertaining History With Guns (Early and Later) before writing this blog. Wasn't sure how it might be rec'd as a result. "Whew!" (Thanks.)

As a kid, I was a "hunter" during the summers on my sister's farm - .22 rifle. I loved that rifle and became a very good shot with it (small game like squirrels, beautiful flickers and anything else that flew).

There's not much meat on a squirrel or swallow. I was just out for the sport of it, decimating Nature for fun.

So after years away from that gun and with new bride by my side, I took her out with that rifle. My very first shot was deadly. Mrs. Dada made me feel so badly, I haven't picked up a gun since.

Utah Savage said...

You and Ms. Dada should come out visiting the blogs. You'd be right at home at my place, I promise. I don't even own a gun anymore.

D.K. Raed said...

we all know if I had to hunt & kill & skin & dress my own meat, I'd become an immediate vegetarian. After seeing those poor hogs trapped on top of barns in the midwest flood, I may have to become one anyway, even without having ever personally experienced the kill, or "animal harvest". I've strictly been on the receiving end of others hard work in that arena and think it's time they all got a well deserved rest.

Can't resist passing along my favorite street singer version of your title, Dada. It was done by a couple of local Hollywood Blvd street performers back in the day. They called themselves The Dyslexic Duo & specialized in butchering famous songs (this was WELL before Wierd Al Yankovic came on the scene). Their version of your featured Beatles' song was called "Nessihapp is warm Nug". I remember singing along, but have totally blanked on the rest of the lyrics.

Fran said...

"just complements the part of nature God left out!"

Ewwwww

I do understand hunters have provided lots of donor organs after they accidentally shoot themselves, so there is the up side.

You missed the whole girl marketing aspect-
pink cammo, rifles *for her*.... gourmet hunting snack recipies.

dada said...

fran: Au contraire, mon soeur, I didn't overlook the pink cammos and rifles for her...it was intentional! Because when I start thinking of women in cammos with pink rifle butts, my resolve on this issue begins to dissolve.

(Mrs. Dada also brought up your point to me.)

But thanks, Fran, for pointing out my omission which, sadly, you caused me to reveal here.

However, I really liked your enlightenment on hunters as organ donors. If only there were more of 'em though.

dada said...

BTW Fran: I grew up around many wonderful Oregonians who in the fall would migrate like geese to eastern Oregon to partake of the annual ritual of culling the herds. Great, great people save for this wave of insanity that would overwhelm 'em for a week or so in the fall.

enigma4ever said...

okay first off...NO ONE looks good in cammo...even pink cammo....I loved hearing above how one trip with the Mrs and there were no more hunting ventures...that is so romantic...wow...

( hunters as Organ Donors? hmm, I thought that was just Bikers without Helmets...I stand corrected...)

I love the quotes in this post...it 's a great post...but seriously, yes, if I had to kill anything, I am like DK- I would have to stick with just berries and grass etc...I could not do it...I guess I would starve....oh well...

Utah Savage said...

You girls haven't lived on a farm or raised rabbits for food. My grandmother could wring a chickens neck with one wicked twist, one handed. I grew up with the knowledge that the food I loved so much was once walking about. I remember eating dove that had been killed and still had buckshot in it. Like eating something with B B's in it. I remeber eating smelt. Head first. Bones and all. I ate trout's eyes. Are you crying yet?

But every deer hunting season I root for the deer and celebrate ever "accidental shooting" of a hunter. I figure they get drunk and pissed off and shoot each other. If they live long enough it's another organ donor for sure. That should be part if getting a hunting license--everyone who gets a license must agree to sign a donor card.

D.K. Raed said...

LOL, UT Savage! My grandma and mom could've easily done the same, but they obviously raised an overly sensitive granddaughter/daughter. When visiting their farm, we grandkids all loved to feed the hogs & goats & chickens (though I do still have nightmares about collecting eggs in the chicken coops), but we never thought twice about where they ended up. That was all done out of our sight.

Now fish -- I think I could do that. I've gutted & cleaned them AFTER they were dead. I just don't know how they got from live on the line to dead & I don't think I want to.

I hate deer season. You know how big a deal it is here in UT. But the ones I really root for are the bulls that run in Pamploma. Yes, nothing makes me happier than to see one of those idiots take a horn to the groin. Olé, ah-ha Toro!