I was 10 the first time my new step-dad took me hunting, so did I have a choice in the matter, really?
I wanted to be accepted and it was new and different
turns out I was a natural, took down my first duck second round I fired
these people, my new relatives were ecstatic, I was accepted, thats what I remember from that first hunting trip
sorry to say but the shooting of birds, deer, whatever was incidental, there is a certain culture of violence that many of us are brought up with
its hard for many of us to break from, perhaps you think these "Royals" do not endure this, but I have a sneaky suspicion they do
does not mean condone what they do
I even wonder if some of them do what I did that last deer hunt I went on
I had a younger friend, Michael C., a tall, skinny, ridiculously pale 14 year old
now by this time I had already started listening to "The Smiths" and so I had begin to resent my role as the best hunter among the kids
but Michael was just a scared kid with a hard ass biker dad who so wanted him to prove himself to him in some way
so they stuck him in a blind with me and sure enough a deer came in our sight, but he fired too soon
I looked over at his frightened his face and just knew he needed this, so I took aim and brought that beautiful buck down
the last deer I killed, not the last
thing I killed, but thats another story*, the more important one to me
people come running when a kill is made, I just looked at Mikey and said: "Take it."
He hesitated at first, but when others come toward us including his dad he took credit
he and I were friends for a long time after that ** but neither of us ever went on those hunting trips again
*=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gulf_War
**=Mikey was killed in a car accident 15 years later