Posted on 09/17/2005 9:08:12 PM PDT by neverdem
GREEN MOUNTAIN NATIONAL FOREST, Vt. - Chomping wad after wad of Bubblicious Strawberry Splash gum and giggling as she tickled people's necks with a piece of grass she pretended was a spider, Samantha Marley could have been any 9-year-old girl.
A couple of things set her apart, though. She was cloaked in camouflage from boots to baseball cap. And propped next to her on the seat of a truck was her very own 20-gauge shotgun.
Samantha, a freckle-faced, pony-tailed fourth grader, was on a bear hunt. Not the pretend kind memorialized in picture books and summer-camp chants, but a real one for black bears that live in the woods of southwestern Vermont and can weigh 150 pounds or more.
She had won a "dream hunt" given away by a Vermont man whose goal is to get more children to hunt, and she had traveled about 200 miles from her home in Bellingham, Mass., and was missing three days of school to take him up on his offer.
"Almost everything you hunt is pretty fun," said Samantha, grinning and perfectly at home with a group of five men, the youngest of whom was nearly three times her age.
At one point, as the group crossed a wooden bridge, Samantha's father, Scott, who had accompanied her - and had filled out her application for the hunting contest - teased her that trolls lived under the bridge.
"Dad," Samantha said with bravado, "I got a gun."
The dream hunt - all expenses paid, including taxidermy - was the brainchild of Kevin Hoyt, a 35-year-old hunting instructor who quit a job as a structural steel draftsman a few years ago and decided to dedicate himself to getting children across the country interested in hunting.
His efforts reflect...
(Excerpt) Read more at nytimes.com ...
Big difference in eggs from an egg factory farm with caged layers versus "free range" chickens.
Truth is "rude"?
Truth is simply truth!
There is nothing more salubrious to the body or more edifying to the sprit than participating in this blood sport: hacking through pre-dawn fog, attentive to the whisperings of the forrest, pierced only by the woofing of your anxious but enthusiastic mount, drawn to the meet by tounging hounds, toasting the Master of Hounds with a stirrup cup, working the cast in growing tension, "gone away," "Ware-hole," "Give way at the fence," "Hold hard!" "Gone to ground?" "No, full Cry." Then,"reverse field!" And finally, "going home."
By God, no man can ride to hounds but once and remain an athiest or a liberal.
wow what a post!
Does SIA stand for Singles In America? If so I once belonged. To those of you who are curious, it's simply a singles organization for singles with agricultural backgrounds.
And how!
I've got the hounds but no longer own a horse.
[I do have a pygmy goat but somehow I doubt the level of exhilaration would be quite the same....]
But I did spell it right once in the post. Don't i at least get half credit?
OOPs!!! now I see my misspelling. LOLOL
No big deal. You certainly shouldn't feel any need to apologize to anyone. I understand perfectly. It's something that you often need to be "born into." For many families, it's an activity that everyone's involved in, including the cooking and eating of the game you've hunted.
On the other hand, I don't come from a family that hunted. In fact, I'm something of the black sheep of my family, since I own guns and like to shoot them. I've been hunting, but I really don't have any wish to go hunting again. In my case, it's out of sheer laziness. I'd much rather buy a steak at the grocery store than clean a deer. Of course, that never stops me from accepting wild game foods from friends who do hunt. I got the whole "roughing it" thing out of my system in Boy Scouts. As far as I'm concerned, roughing it is staying at a Motel 6.
Mark
Too late. Branches of the family have been here since before the Republic. Others have filtered in and out of the State for generations, almost like a scheduled rotation between here and southwestern Virginia. :-)
To many proud pictures in the sports sections of minors, some as young as seven, posing with the trophy deer, turkey, hog or javelina they just shot.
I have no problem with minors. My first hunt was at 12. I have a problem with parents who take their 9 year olds on a hunt and put a firearm into their hands. I have no control over what the parents do or don't do. That, obviously, is their choice. But, I sure as heck don't respect it. Twelve, I think, is just about the minimum age to begin.
Gentrification, the large farms and ranches are being broken up for ranchettes.
I'm not able to travel much anymore. But, I know what you mean.
Even here in San Antonio we've seen it, only the farms and ranches have become housing developments, massive indoor and outdoor malls, and all of it pockmarked with highways and freeways. Just 20 years ago we had cattle and horses grazing in the pastures. Now, the pastures are gone, replaced by a seemingly endless sprawl of urban development.
Bacon is the "Pork bellies" mentioned in commodities reports.
What if it's a 2-legged registered sex offender animal trying to snatch him/her off the street?
That's not hunting. Putting one of them down would be self defense, and IMHO, a community service.
Mark
I was thinking ham and eggs as late night snack would be really nice.
Yikes! That's not food! That's what food eats!
;-)
I'm sorry, I just needed to say that. Seriously, I'm glad you feel so strongly about your beliefs. Stick to them!
Mark
I'm not so sure this is a great idea. Now, at the age of 9 also, my dad (who grew up during the Depression) was out every morning before school with his rifle or running his traplines or doing some form of hunting. BUT he had to clean and dress everything he killed, and he brought it home for his family to eat. He understood what he was doing. I question whether this youngster really understands what killing is about. Bet you she didn't even watch the bear be gutted and skinned, let along do it herself. I'm not sure people should go hunting unless they really understand the consequences of what they're doing.
Funny!! I'm from halfway between Seguin and San Antonio. The area I'm talking about extends Marion/ St. Hedwig down to George West and Three Rvers.
Dr Suess?
Is that you?....:))
Oh, I don't know... The stalking can be fun, but people seem to get upset when you try to strap them to the hood of your pickup!
Mark
My dad gave me my first rifle when I was 9.
Got my first pistol when I was 12.
Can't imagine growing up not knowing about guns.
Grandpa actually made them from scratch.
No kidding.
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