Shooting Big, Brown-Eyed Creatures

by Jen Jackson

Blog Last Updated; 8/11/2010

Well, ladies and gentlemen, the results are in: I passed my hunter safety course with flying colors. I even did well with the range test, scoring 29 out of 30. Of course, the range test involved paper squirrels and rabbits. Actually hunting big game will be much, much different.

Ty and I had dinner with friends last weekend, and I shared the news of my recent entry into hunterhood with the acquisition of my license. I think they were surprised, and perhaps a bit dismayed. One finally asked, "How are you going to shoot an animal when its big, brown, innocent eyes are staring at you? Do you think you can actually do it?" This was asked over a meal containing meat ? a meal that once had big, brown, ooey-gooey eyes.

Not having hunted before, I'm not well equipped to answer that question. However, I responded that my hunch was, in the moment, it wouldn't be about eyeballs. In the moment, it would be about the hunt ? and getting the perfect shot. I guess I'll find out if that's true this fall.

But I think the implied meaning of the question was, "How will you bring yourself to take the life of another sentient being ? and a charismatic or cuddly one, to boot?" Well, for me, I think that's some of the point of hunting.

As a meat-eater, I've felt for years now that it's important for me to take responsibility for my dietary choices and become better connected to the process that brings the food to my plate. If I'm going to eat meat, I need to know that, once upon a time, that steak was a charismatic sentient being with big, soulful eyes. It once had a mother, it once had a life, and it once ate greens instead of being eaten with them. And I need to be okay with that. If, in hunting, I discover that I'm not okay with that ? if those big, brown eyes make me want to cry instead of kill ? then it's time to hang up my steak knife. It's as simple as that. I need to learn whether I'm okay with the procurement of my protein.

With our current system of feedlots, meatpacking plants and supermarkets, it's all too easy to live a life disconnected from the source of our meat. We don't even see the butcher cut it up anymore. It's as if shrink-wrapped burger and bacon grew on meat trees, a plant whose season was year-round. I don't think this disconnect is healthy. And it certainly doesn't leave room for reverence for the lives sacrificed in the name of sustenance.

So this is why I'll be shooting aluminum cans this summer and donning hunter orange in the fall. For me, it's not so much about sport or the thrill of the kill; instead, it's about learning where my place is on the food chain and what it takes to be there. It's about learning the power and responsibility that comes with being a predator. And it's about making a connection with my wide-eyed prey and the story that brought it into my life.