When my wife walked in with the .22-caliber rifle she had just bought, it was impossible for my face to hide my emotional reaction to the introduction of a firearm into my home. She remarked on it - “Why are you looking at me like that?” – and I had a hard time describing what I was feeling. Disgust? Fear? I settled upon repulsion, and explained that I was repulsed not by her, but by the death-dealing machine in her arms.
I live on a farm. There are woods adjoining my pastures. On occasion, a wandering carnivore makes one of my animals disappear – sometimes completely, sometimes leaving a trail of feathers. On this last occasion, my tom (male turkey) was killed. He was a good 25 pounds or so in weight, pretty big. He was taken in the middle of the day (between 3 and 5 P.M.) in broad daylight behind the barn, dragged about 30 feet into a small ravine in the nearby woods, and then ripped apart: his head, neck, and innards were completely missing, and his torso was shredded and also partially eaten. Whatever it was that did it was far too large and brave for my comfort.
My wife made an investment. She has thousands – no, tens of thousands – of dollars sunk into this farm, between buildings and animals and equipment and time. Anything that threatens that investment needs to be neutralized. Unfortunately, in the case of living things, “neutralized” is a euphemism for “killed.”
I don’t like it. I do not like guns, I don’t want to kill. Hell, I feel guilty when I squash spiders. I’ve gotten somewhat adept at capturing unwanted insects and tossing them outside – even though the little buggers creep me out big time. (Not as much as they used to, however – living in the country, you develop a kind of “eh? So what” reaction to vermin.) It simply is not in my nature to kill, even with a reason to do so.
So now this rifle is in my house, this means to murder, this tool of destruction. It has a lock, it is unloaded, it is high up on a cupboard – and I hate it. Not only because I own it, but because of the perceived need to own it.
7 comments:
Oh, you hate to kill? What was going to happen to the turkey if it didn't meet such an untimely end?
Nothing was going to happen to the turkey. He was a pet.
Yeah, right. Tell me, how's it like to be a vegan?
I applaud Anna for wearing the pants in the family. She knows in the real world you must be will to do what is necessary. This predator might just decide to go after your goats or worse you and your family. It's a rough world and only the strong survive.
You misjudge me, man. I would have far less compunction about putting a bullet into a human being.
It's not only the strong that survive. In the natural world, being the strongest is NOT a guarantee of success. Human societies, which in many ways are removed from the natural world, are only successful because of cooperation - NOT cut throat competition.
So why are you upset with the home invasion defense tool, if you have no qualms about putting a bullet in a human? Do you rate animals above humans?
I rate most animals above some humans, yes. The wolf acts out of amoral instinct; Josef Stalin was just plain evil.
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