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 Peg's
Polemic
Every
month, philosopher Peg Tittle casts off the calm, measured and qualified
style of her profession to deliver her opinionated and impassioned
column, exclusively for the TPM philosophy café...
Number
26. Hunting
Well,
it's autumn. That time of year when the breeze gets brisk, the leaves
start to fall, and good men from all walks of life wear something
besides blue, brown, and black: they wear orange. Hunter orange.
Yes this is the time of year when good men from all walks of life
go into the forest to perform that masculine bloodwinner ritual
involving beer, bullets, and Bubba. To be frank (yes, a second ago
I was being subtle), I don't understand hunting. I don't understand
the desire to kill. 'Oh no,' the hunters say, 'it's not that, it's
the excitement, it's the thrill of stalking an animal that's big
and wild, and can tear you apart!' Yeah right. Like Bambi's cousin
is going to tear you apart.
'And
it's the challenge! Deer are smart, you know!' I'd say the average
deer has an IQ of what, three? So I have to ask, smart compared
to who?
The
challenge. Give me a break. You hunt in a group, so already it's
what, six against one? And you use dogs, and three-wheelers, you
even use helicopters, to scare the animals out of the bush. And
then you've got some geezer sittin' in a truck parked at the side
of the road just waiting to pick off the first fear-frenzied creature
that runs across. Oh, the challenge. (Then again, since he's probably
been chugging brew all afternoon, I guess that would be a challenge.)
'It's
not just all that--we like the meat.' Then why don't you go to a
deer farm and just shoot one that's out grazing in the field? (Or
a cow farm. Hey, I know! Get a job in a slaughterhouse!)
'Cuz it's gotta be wild.' Okay, how about a skunk?
Ah,
but it's gotta be big and wild. Well, this 'bigger is better' thing
is completely illogical. Anyone can shoot a moose that's just standing
there. If you really want to brag, hang a pair of chipmunk ears
on your wall.
Speaking of which, why do fishermen mount the whole fish but hunters
mount only the head? I mean, if it is size that counts, then let's
hang the whole moose on the wall. (Or cow, as the case may be.)
Hunting
is big business. And like most big businesses, it provides the supply
even, especially, when the demand is sick. I was looking through
a hardware store flyer one hunting season, amazed at all the essential
hunting paraphernalia.
First,
you've got your 'Super Premium 200 Proof Doe-in-a-Can'--the scent
of a doe in heat. This stuff is very special: it's "collected
at the peak of the doe's hottest second estrous cycle." How
do they know she's at her peak? I'm just wondering. Then you've
got your "shoulder length dressing gloves." I'm thinking
sexy over-the-elbow black satin. Try "heavy duty poly gloves"--to
"protect against mess, stains, and infectious diseases while
dressing game." The picture shows a man with his arm up a deer's
ass--he's "dressing game." (Why does the misnomer "making
love" comes to mind...)
And
you've got your 'Rusty Duck Lubricant.' Any guesses?
And
then you've got your calls--your duck calls and your deer calls
and your moose calls. I understand there were a lot of hunting injuries
the year the "CM3 Moose Call" came onto the market. Well,
what do you expect when some moron stands in the middle of the forest
during mating season and yells out in moose language "Come
fuck me now!"
I
was talking to one guy, a duck hunter, and I asked why he preferred
to go hunting with a friend. I though maybe hunting was just a cover
for friendship between men who were too homophobic to just be with
each other. But the guy said 'for security.' Given the moose call
affair, I thought, good point. I mean last year alone, how many
hunters were killed by ducks?
Not
enough.
.
Peg's
Polemic will next be updated early March 2003
Previous
polemics
25.
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9.
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