Archives for posts with tag: western new york

Yeah, that’s right – I have mixed emotions about hunting season.  I understand that it’s a way to control the overpopulation of deer in our area.  I understand that venison is a great way to supplement the family’s food supply.  It’s also a way to connect with your ancestors who were forced to hunt for survival, and a way to give thanks for all of the blessings we have in this life.

But that’s not why most people do it.  They make killing into a sport.

That’s what bothers me more than the random gunshots in the middle of the day, the fact that they leave their cars and trucks haphazardly on the side of the road, or that some hang dead deer from trees in their front yard.  (For anyone who isn’t a hunter, you have to hang the deer for several days.  I would just prefer if they did it in their garage or barn.)  I simply can’t get behind the idea that killing something should be held to a fun pastime.

‘But it’s only a deer’, right?  Yeah, it’s only a horse, a dolphin, a whale, a bald eagle.  Their only animals, so who cares?  Who cares about causing pain with the intention of sport?  Who cares about hunting something and leaving everything but the head?  Who cares about wasting a life for a trophy?

I’m not saying don’t hunt – that is useless and wrong.  Hunt if you like.  Do it safely, responsibly.  Don’t leave the body in the woods.  Don’t be cruel.  Don’t be heartless.  Do it for the environment.  Do it for food.  Do it because your ancestors did.  But remember that you are taking a life – you are making a choice, and it should be treated with the proper respect it deserves.

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Things have been pretty tense around here. Explosive, really. It has been difficult to concentrate on things. I don’t want to go into details (I will save that for the book), but needless to say people are causing my Grandparents stress and emotional pain. It breaks my heart.

Yesterday things really blew up. I wanted to get away for a few minutes, so I walked out to the barns. (One thing about living in the middle of nowhere is that it’s hard to run away.) Of course, chickens come running. They do that a lot, thinking I have bread every time I go outside. When I don’t, they give me the weirdest look.

I sat down in the chair near the barn, angry and frustrated. It hurt to see my family in emotional pain. It’s worse when I can’t do anything about it.

The chickens stayed around me, all 11 of them, pecking and clucking the whole time. It was like, in their own way, they were keeping me company. It make me happy just to sit out there with them.

Of course I talked to them too. Some of them let me hold and pet them. They are wonderful little girls!

Doesn’t everyone have chicken friends?