Beats Hell Out Of Me

I was eight years-old. My parents gave me a BB gun for my birthday. I got very good shooting at targets. I pulverized the cardboard bulls eye target and soon I was knocking tin cans off the backyard fence with the rapid-fire of a Wild West sharpshooter. One aspect about myself that I noted at a very early age was the blessing of great eyesight. I always had excellent depth perception, eye-object tracking skills and eye-hand coordination. As stated much is simply a gift.

Of course, as a youngster, I soon became bored with inanimate-object target shooting. I finally decided that I would shoot at some birds. I spotted a Blue Jay high in a front yard tree and took aim. One squeeze of the BB gun trigger and the bird immediately fell limp at my feet below and lay there motionless. I had killed the bird. It was so brilliantly blue and with a majestic crown. I felt sick at my stomach. Why?  I took the dead bird to the backyard and dug a grave where I buried it. I took my BB gun to the basement and placed it on a shelf. I never picked that gun up again.

I do not judge those who love their guns and shooting games. I refuse to judge those who hunt for game, which is used for food. That said, I will never understand what man draws upon to kill animals for the simple joy of the kill; causing death. I simply cannot fathom what makes a person desire to thrill-kill and be-head a living creature and then put the detached head for a trophy.