I love the point that the writer starts with here. Growing up watching classic Disney animated films in which the hunter is the evil character, and at the same time having a dad and brothers who hunt was pretty confusing. Now that I am an adult I have a very different perspective on the issue. I think Nichole Dupont articulates it perfectly. Read on…
A healthy respect for guns
As hunting season approaches, my heart, once again, is torn in two.
In one corner, there is Bambi, or more specifically, Bambi’s ill-fated mother and all of the cute woodland creatures threatened by the evil hunter. In the other corner, there is a childhood filled with triumphant hunting parties, venison stew in winter and the absolute glee of target shooting.
I will admit it, I like guns — a lot. I drool over gun shows on the television, making little “oooh” sounds when a customized glock proves successful on the firing range or a Revolutionary War musket is refurbished. Just as I can appreciate the history and mechanical genius that surrounds the gun culture, I am also vividly aware of the power that lies within a gun.
Having guns in the house was, I thought, a normal part of growing up. My brothers and I were taught very early on how to load, unload, clean, disassemble and, of course, shoot a rifle. It was also instilled in us the inherent danger of this weapon, and so we never dared go near the things without the express permission of my father.
A good friend of mine had a very different childhood, whereby her mother was terrified of guns. That same friend, ironically, married an avid hunter who collects guns. They have three daughters now, and the girls are very comfortable with and wary of guns, and often the oldest girl will still hunt with her father.