17 thoughts on “The big guy.”

  4. My grandfather lived in Vermont.
    He hunted and hoped for one deer a year.
    If he succeeded, I was happy for him and sad for the deer.

    It might be one of the reasons I’ve been a vegetarian for 23+ years.

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  5. My dad was a bow hunter until his very little daughter was inconsolable at the sight of the dead deer he proudly brought home from a weekend in the woods. He did only target archery because he could not stand to see me cry that way. I am always happy when hunting season is over. There is not that much land left for them here in the suburbs, and I have seen the pictures of a buck wandering with an arrow in his hide from the larger properties across the river from us, where people sometimes allow hunters on their land.

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    1. I hate driving by our local store this time of year. All the great hunters splay their kills out on the hoods of their trucks to compare. No one is doing it to survive, just the thrill.

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