To shoot a deer
This morning I awoke to a splendid sight; two young deer were in my back yard and not 10 feet from my bedroom window. They weren’t babies but they were young enough to carry those white spots that young deer seem to lose as they get older. I watched them for a few minutes, mindful that I still had to get ready for work. I whispered somewhat urgently to my wife, “Jenifer! Look outside. There’s baby deer right out our window!” She woke, albeit groggily and looked out the window. It was one of those moments where you strain to understand what’s going on, staring almost blankly until your brain revs it’s engines. Hey, it was 6:30am.
My son Nevan came into the room still rubbing his eyes. Now that he is back to school he has started a pretty nice habit of waking up around the time I do. I wonder if he hears my alarm or has a pretty wicked internal clock (for a 6 year old). My youngest, Liam, likes to sleep in a bit longer. That’s fine, he’s only 4.
I hushed Nevan as he started to protest about breakfast or something, I wanted him to see the deer. He was clearly still waking up when he looked outside, rubbed his eyes some more and then stated, “I wish we had a real gun so we could shoot the deer.”
Okay stop. I am posting this because I see the humourous side of that statement. I shared this with a couple friends this morning; one started laughing and one was horrified. America to a tee right there. Divided. 50/50. The horrified friend actually labeled my son a psycho. Or perhaps I was the one being labeled. The laughing friend had pretty much the same reaction I did; boys will be boys. Indeed.
I’ve never owned a gun, and you can be sure that I won’t be owning one anytime soon. I do not plan on taking the boys on a hunting trip. I do not plan on taking the boys to a shooting range to fire off a few rounds and feel what it’s like to actually shoot a gun. (We go camping and I do look forward to our fishing trips we’ll one day take, so don’t think for a second we don’t do anything. My boys are 6 and 4 and have been overseas, twice). Conversely I am not one who judges those who do own one. I happen to come from a society where personal gun ownership is virtually non-existent. I do have a some views on guns, but that doesn’t really matter. It’s my opinion and my opinion only. If I were to summarize my uneducated views, they would be:
- Hunting as it is in Northern America is not a sport. Sport is a match between two sides where either team or player can win.
- I say Northern America because I feel that hunting in, say, the African wild presents more danger to the hunter than what they experience here. Meaning, if you must hunt, it’s only fair that you risk something to do so. What say you to, oh, your life?
- I hear too many stories of hunters who perform drive-by shootings. That’s just a sad, lame and pathetic act. I thought I heard recently that a new law was passing or going to be passed that will allow this legally. It was designed to give the handicapped person the opportunity to hunt. I will be the first to show compassion to someone who has lost the ability to walk. However, hunting is *not* for you.
- I read a news article here in the past year or two where two pre-teen brothers were messing around with their dad’s gun. Just being stupid like kids can be. There was an accident and one of the brothers were killed. It crushes me to think about devastation that would have caused the family. That surviving brother will have to live with it for the rest of his days.
- I have shot a gun at a firing range and it was fun. But I can’t trust myself to make sure it is inaccessible 100% of the time. I can do my damndest to lock it, hide the key, whatever. But there will always be the chance that prying, adventurous and curious boys will discover it and unlock it. That’s a risk I am unwilling to take.
As mentioned, I took this as one of those “boys will be boys” moments. I remember as a boy owning those toy guns that light-up at the end and make machine gun noises. I remember staging neighbourhood wars at the park, down at the river, heck even in and around large storm drains. We copied movies; we battled and paraded about as Luke Skywalker or Rambo. We built go karts and crashed them on purpose. You get the picture. We were boys. And I assume with a good amount of surety that my boys are – boys.
They don’t own toy guns. They do own lightsabers. I haven’t yet had to deal with one (or both) of my boys asking for the latest and greatest toy gun. I welcome any advice as I am sure it will happen. For now they are happy to be Anakin Skywalker, Obi Wan Kenobi or Captain Jack Sparrow. And while I watch them play I can’t help but remember my own summer days long ago. Setting out with my brother to wage our war against the neighbours kids and return home victorious. Grubby boys with cuts on our knees and elbows…
I own a paintball gun. I find this to be an exhilarating sport; gather half a dozen mates and head off into the forest somewhere. Men who act like boys again for a day. We all have those moments. Sometimes we are fortunate to actually experience them again. If you haven’t done something that makes you feel like a teenager in a long time, I recommend it. Maybe it’s taking your car for a spin on the beach. Or ringing a few mates and piling into the car to do something wild and fun. It doesn’t have to be illegal. And you don’t have to be male.
I have all the protective gear for my paintball gun. It never comes out unless I am using it or supervising it. It has a safety, a plug in the end and the CO2 cartridge is never left screwed in. While the kids could get into it, the chances that they’ll accidentally hurt themselves very badly is virtually non-existent.
I told my son that, “No. We don’t have to shoot the deer.” I’m not overly concerned and don’t feel I should be. Obviously if I start noticing destructive behaviour I’ll jump in and do what I can to cut it out. I am confident that I play a good enough role in my kids lives that they listen to me. I also give them freedom to be rough and tumble boys when we play. They love nothing more than wrestling with their dad or being chased and tackled in the backyard. They love to jump all over me and I pretend that I can’t break their tough little holds. At times they jump a bit too hard or land in the wrong spot, but why should I worry? This body won’t be able to handle it as well in 10 years. If I don’t do it now I’ll miss it and I will regret it.
I just found it strange that one friend reacted in such an explosive way. What do you think?
No related posts.
Before I share my opinion, nice to meet you, too.
I’m in the boys will be boys camp. Also, girls will make those comments, too. I think it’s normal and, as long as they aren’t outside actively killing small animals, nothing to be particularly concerned about.
Back at you!
Exactly! I’d be worried if they were torturing small animals or lighting fires. They don’t even kill ants.
So…how did they taste? You ate them, right?
Thanks for stopping by earlier!
You’re for real… not just making me laugh on your site but bringing it to my own.
You’re welcome. I liked you enough to syndicate you, like that’s unusual for you…
Completely agree. In my opinion, “sport” hunting is just plain stupid.
My kids just watched Bambi II where he had and lost the spots. They found a stuff Bambi upstairs while we were getting ready for a garage sale and now they’re going around reinacting the movie– it’s great.
We have Bambi but not the second. The real life kind is in our yard daily.
Boys will be boys, no doubt about that. While I’m not a hunter and I certainly don’t judge those who do hunt, I grew up around it, yet I have no desire to go around killing anything. I find your friends reaction more disturbing than your son’s comment.
You might watch those lightsabers though.
*hides his purple lightsaber*
The scariest thing is not that your son wanted to shoot a deer, or that one of your friends flipped out about it, but the fact that you have a purple lightsaber. Purple. What is the world coming to?
There is quite a difference between a wish for a gun to kill something and a wish to actually kill something (or so I think). He wished for a (real) gun and put forward a reason to justify it. Clearly, he didn’t understand the implication of either. Hey, boys will be boys.
I used to kill ants, housefly, cockroaches, dragonfly, small lizards, etc. with things like magnifying glass, pesticides, firecrackers, drowning them in water, melted wax from candles, etc. Call that psycho. >:)
And hey, no need to worry about me. Those days are over and gone.
Heck! I don’t even bother taking a swing at the mosquitoes. “Ye ain’t robbin’ me of a peaceful sleep ye bloody black thieves! Arrr!”
PS: So nice of you to use text labels instead of images. I was confused the last time I saw an image of home next to that textfield. Uh, what was I supposed to type in there? Duh. Just one more thing. Can a ‘Preview’ button be arranged if it ain’t much trouble for ya? Keep up the good work. See ya.
Being a dad of 3 boys ranging from 16-21, and 1 girl 19, and a grandfather of a cute little 2 year old boy, I know right where you are coming from.
When I was a teenager, I used to go hunting with my dad. Never actually shot anything. Heck, outside of the Hunter Saftey course, I never even shot the gun. But it was probably some of the best memories I have of me and my dad. Out in the woods together, sharing in something.. anything. I will always remember them.
Sport hunting can be a sport if the “prey” has a chance of escaping you. Where I come from, you can’t bait animals, you have to find them in their natural habitat, and becuase you can’t bait them, using a stand doesn’t make as much sense. So you have to go “find” them. Thus giving them a chance to get away.
Hunting wasn’t a sport in the last century it was a method of survival, but today we hunt in the ailes of HEB and Randals.
My teenage boys have wanted to go hunting growing up, but it was never my thing then, so we never really went. They can go on their own as they feel the need.
Back to the boys will be boys statement… a scarey contrast. my 3 sons would probably all said the same thing.. “wish we had a gun…” and my daughter would have gone… “ewww.. thats mean…”
Now, those same 4 kids if they were to watch someone trip and fall down a flight of stairs, all 3 of the boys would first worry if the person was ok.. BEFORE they laughed. My daughter would have busted out laughing as the person was bouncing down the stairs, with no thought if the person was ok.
So, I ask you, which one should I be most concerned with?
It’s a year later and I am racking my brain as to which co-worker said what. Ah well, I’ve moved on. To a whole new country. Heh.