Killing

[Vince]

Just wondering what everyone feels after the shot is sent and the animal is down.

For me it’s a bit of a letdown. I’m glad to take what I came for and appreciate the meat/trophy but I’m also sad. Sad that the quest is over and a return to the daily life is close at hand. Sad that the camaraderie of camp is one step closer to it’s inevitable end.


Vince

 

[longrangehunter]

Yah, I’ve often felt that way too. It was living to feed the living…. Not any different than in the wild. Better than being run over by a vehicle, or Semi truck, or something else that takes a long time to die.
We as hunters give more back more than not to the life of the animal at its end of lifecycle.

 

[Guy Miner]

Just wondering what everyone feels after the shot is sent and the animal is down.

For me it’s a bit of a letdown. I’m glad to take what I came for and appreciate the meat/trophy but I’m also sad. Sad that the quest is over and a return to the daily life is close at hand. Sad that the camaraderie of camp is one step closer to it’s inevitable end.


Vince

I remember one year, tagging out early on opening day. Initially happiness about success, and then realizing "Dang, the season is over after three hours? Wow..."

Also I usually feel some regret about taking the life, and I thank the animal for feeding my family or friends.

Regards, Guy

 

[xphunter]

Growing up on a farm, when we slaughtered chickens, cattle or hogs for meat, it was not a emotional thing, it was just life.

When big game hunting, depending on the circumstances, it is more of a mixture of feelings, that is not always the same.
When hunting with others when the hunt is over, whether any tags were filled or not, there is a mixture of emotions as well.

I do not tend to thank an animal, that I paid for to hunt it, even though I am grateful for the meat it will provide.
This last statement probably ties into my first statement.

 

[walkinhorseman]

I too was a farm kid. So harvesting animals was just a matter of course.

I used to save 2 weeks vacation and hunt the entire PA Buck Season. Early on, I stopped shooting does as I am not a big fan of venison. For me, it’s about the hunt. Once a deer is down, the hunt is over. The perfect deer season to me was to hunt two weeks and shoot a Buck on the last day. Before the PA Antler Restrictions, I did not shoot spike bucks, just to shoot a deer. The places that I hunted were always a tough drag back to the truck.

 

[SJB358]

With any animal for me after the kill I’m usually pretty elated. Some hunts come easy and some come after a lot of sweat, cold sits, sore eye balls, etc. So while I don’t get geeked up about killing per se, that is my goal or I’d carry a camera.

 

[TackDriver284]

I don't get emotional when I harvest game, my intention was to hunt and harvest to feed my family. I do give thanks to the man above for the blessings for providing food for the table.

 

[Blkram]

I too was a farm kid, and you took life to sustain life. No emotions here for having to kill to survive. It is the circle of life, that has sustained human kind for millenium. Without it, we wouldn't be here today. I am grateful for the sustenance.

As for the family and friendships of those with whom you hunt, I am grateful for that too, but do not get sad that the adventure has ended, because I have great memories to reminisce on, and share with them, and others, for years afterwards. It still brings smiles to my face, and those who shared in the adventures, and even those with whom we share the stories of the adventures, and misadventures, with. Quite often it (misadventures) will produce a good chuckle or too, o r even outright bouts of laughter, that sometimes produce tears from laughing so hard as you relive or envision the scene! (DrMike can relate!)

There is also the sense of accomplishment, and pride in being able to provide the support and sustenance for oneself and your family. This our natural role in life as a hunter, provider and protector. I am grateful that I have accomplished these goals, and continue to do so.

Then there is the photos or videos one has taken that can be viewed after the fact, and shared with others, that also brings back those fond memories where we can look back at where we were, what we've done, and who we shared it with. I am grateful for these too.

 

[DrMike]

Quite often it (misadventures) will produce a good chuckle or too, o r even outright bouts of laughter, that sometimes produce tears from laughing so hard as you relive or envision the scene! (DrMike can relate!)

Have no idea of what you are talking about, Gil.

 

[Blkram]

Now Mike,
Were you thinking of the rabbit misadventure...
Or the "Aunt" road?

 

[TackDriver284]

Now Mike,
Were you thinking of the rabbit misadventure...
Or the "Aunt" road?

Please tell us the story,,,,did the monster rabbit chase you guys?

 

[DrMike]

After years in the laboratory, the rodents got their revenge. I'm grossly allergic to rats, mice, gerbils, hamsters, guinea pigs ... and rabbits. Snowshoe hare pass through cycles with boom or bust populations, followed by cycles of boom or bust predator populations. After several cycles of hard cycles, whist hunting one year, we saw snowshoe hare around every corner. I got to thinking about hasenpfeffer or fried hare, and I just had to tag a few of those bunnies. I never gave a thought to the consequences of handling said hares. Shooting them would be easy. Stopping the truck (Gil is heavy on the gas and heavier on the brake) I picked myself off the floor, seized my trusty Browning T-Bolt, lept from the still-sliding vehicle, popped in a magazine, and dropped a bunny. I was quite pleased, as I'd not shot a hare in decades. There was a valid reason I had avoided shooting bunnies for decades, but with visions of rabbit stew beclouding my brain, I was incapable of helping myself. I proudly marched over to the now deceased bunny, hoisted it in the air and headed back to the truck. The bunny was duly deposited into the bed of the truck and I carefully wiped my hands on my pants and brushed the sweat from my face. (It was a hot October day! Okay! At least, that is my memory.) Only a matter of seconds elapsed when my eyes began to itch and swell shut (a condition that makes scouting for game somewhat challenging in addition to qualifying as quite distressing). Having been gone from the laboratory for a number of years at that point, I didn't put together what was happening for a bit, until I sudden remembered why I was blinded! Naturally, there were few antihistmines available in the bush, and I would have been handicapped by being unable to see them in any case, so I was compelled to apply some McGyver remedies. They didn't work. My hunting partners, Gil and his bride Susan, were happy to offer their kind remarks, accompanied by gales of laughter. Gil did carry the world-class hare to a nearby stumb in an effort to feed a coyote or wolf. You see, there was nothing funny about Gil's cruel mockery of my disablement. I certainty saw nothing funny bout the situation. I had to spend the remainder of the day listening to Gil and Susan laugh at my blindness. And now he has brought up my sorrowful condition so the entire world can know of it. I won't tell you how he got the name "Wounded Bunny" or "Cloud Buster" as it would require a whole 'nother thread.

 

[wvbuckbuster]

I don't carry on like some of those people do on those shows, but I have been happy, elated, grinning but always grateful thanking God for allowing me to take his animals He provides. Have been sad when the drag out was more that I would have hoped for though

 

[Wenaha]

I learned something in Africa... there, nothing dies of old age.

I don't do hi fives and hoot, but I am thankful and pay respects to the animal.

 

[8mm Enthusiast]

I just feel a high level of excitement and sometimes relief (if I have been walking all day and if I am hungry for meat). I start thinking about the next chase and analyze the current kill thinking about what I could have done better, what went wrong, what was done right, and always try to learn from the experience.

 

[Blkram]

After years in the laboratory, the rodents got their revenge. I'm grossly allergic to rats, mice, gerbils, hamsters, guinea pigs ... and rabbits. Snowshoe hare pass through cycles with boom or bust populations, followed by cycles of boom or bust predator populations. After several cycles of hard cycles, whist hunting one year, we saw snowshoe hare around every corner. I got to thinking about hasenpfeffer or fried hare, and I just had to tag a few of those bunnies. I never gave a thought to the consequences of handling said hares. Shooting them would be easy. Stopping the truck (Gil is heavy on the gas and heavier on the brake) I picked myself off the floor, seized my trusty Browning T-Bolt, lept from the still-sliding vehicle, popped in a magazine, and dropped a bunny. I was quite pleased, as I'd not shot a hare in decades. There was a valid reason I had avoided shooting bunnies for decades, but with visions of rabbit stew beclouding my brain, I was incapable of helping myself. I proudly marched over to the now deceased bunny, hoisted it in the air and headed back to the truck. The bunny was duly deposited into the bed of the truck and I carefully wiped my hands on my pants and brushed the sweat from my face. (It was a hot October day! Okay! At least, that is my memory.) Only a matter of seconds elapsed when my eyes began to itch and swell shut (a condition that makes scouting for game somewhat challenging in addition to qualifying as quite distressing). Having been gone from the laboratory for a number of years at that point, I didn't put together what was happening for a bit, until I sudden remembered why I was blinded! Naturally, there were few antihistmines available in the bush, and I would have been handicapped by being unable to see them in any case, so I was compelled to apply some McGyver remedies. They didn't work. My hunting partners, Gil and his bride Susan, were happy to offer their kind remarks, accompanied by gales of laughter. Gil did carry the world-class hare to a nearby stumb in an effort to feed a coyote or wolf. You see, there was nothing funny about Gil's cruel mockery of my disablement. I certainty saw nothing funny bout the situation. I had to spend the remainder of the day listening to Gil and Susan laugh at my blindness. And now he has brought up my sorrowful condition so the entire world can know of it. I won't tell you how he got the name "Wounded Bunny" or "Cloud Buster" as it would require a whole 'nother thread.

Susan and I have a somewhat different recollection of that day's events ...but the good Dr is a master storyteller and can twist a tall tale (er bunny tail) with the best of them!