Sure Shootin'

About 10 days ago, my friend Connie took me shooting. We went up to a range off Highway 9 outside of Saratoga. She brought along a pair of old rifles--her grandfather's--that had been cleaned and checked and cleared as "safe." These were manual load, one-bullet rifles with iron sights and very little kick-- very quaint next to the military grade, heavy duty automatics in the hands of the men standing next to us. When those things went off, I felt the vibration in my bones and could swear it loosened my dental work. They even set off a car alarm in the parking area behind us--no kidding!

I have to say, I was very impressed with the behavior of our fellow shootists. There was no swaggering or bragging. If anything, the mood was subdued. This is serious business, this shooting stuff. There are Rules. And Everyone Follows the Rules. Otherwise, people could get hurt, or Very. Very. Dead. So at 15 minute intervals, we were asked to unload our weapons, leave them pointed downfield, and stand behind the white line for inspection. After all was clear, we were free to check our targets and see how we did. The thing is, the target is so far away (I have forgotten already how many feet) that one can't really see how one is doing while one is shooting. I just lined up my sights with the little dot at the end of the field and hoped that I was hitting it. As it turned out, I did rather well for my first time out. Connie said so. ;-)

Now before you start running for the hills, I can assure you that I am no danger to either myself or society, or any woodland creatures for that matter. By the time I managed to focus on any furry forest creature, it would have had ample time to scamper away into the underbrush. If I had to rely on this as a means of getting my dinner, I think I would probably starve before I got any good at it.

Besides (I say to myself to assuage any residue feelings of guilt), shooting at targets is very clean, isn't it. No blood, no mess; no harm, no foul. And everyone is Oh So Polite. Almost gentlemanly, if I may use such an old-fashioned term.

Ironically, earlier that same week I had read Joy Williams' "The Killing Game" for my composition class. If you have not yet had the pleasure (a questionable term in part), Williams launches a vitriolic attack against hunting and hunters that leaves you wondering how we could suffer such barbarity in our so-called "civilized" world. That is, if you are an average civilian. If you were a hunter, no doubt you'd want to string Ms. Williams from the nearest tree. But I digress. The point is, well, go read it. Yes, it is unapologetic and harsh and she uses some very confrontational language--it is completely slanted to her point of view, of course, but that's natural, because it is her essay.

What I appreciate about it, though, is that she made me question some of my own belief systems that I had come to accept as true. This idea that we need hunting to keep nature in "balance", for instance. I, like many others I imagine, have always lived under the impression that, Oh, what a shame, the encroachment of man has upset the natural balance of predator and prey, so now, too bad, we have to keep hunting to keep critters like deer and rabbits from overrunning the world. Wrong, says Williams. Hunting is decimating the environment all out of proportion to a natural predator-prey "balance." And they are using their own spin on language and statistics to skew the general population's perception as to what is actually happening. Her report on what is happening to migrating birds is, if her facts are correct, more than a little disheartening; it's devastation on a phenomenal scale.

Once military weaponry gets involved, this issue is no longer about hunting to feed one's family. It's no longer about refining a skill in tracking and hunting that has been passed down from father to son (or parent to child) for generations. It's not even about giving the animal a sporting chance. It's about blowing things up. It's not about survival; it's about destruction. And if a people are destructive and wasteful, how long 'til a society destroys itself?

Connie told me a funny story. She said that one day she was out shooting on a range and all of a sudden, as daring as you please, a huge buck stepped out from the trees and just wandered across the field in front of the targets. As one, everyone stopped shooting immediately and watched it, just watched it progress slowly from one side of the field to the other until it disappeared into the trees on the other side. And then they all started shooting at their targets again. It was a completely surreal experience.

What strange, strange beings we humans are.