Posted on 02/04/2016 6:23:42 PM PST by SJackson
Addie Broyles wanted to kill a deer -- not for sport, but so she could have a direct hand in the harvesting of meat that she would eat.
AUSTIN, Texas -- A few weeks ago, I went to Castroville, Texas, to try to close the loop.
To skip the euphemisms, I wanted to kill a deer -- not for sport, but so I could have a direct hand in the harvesting of meat that I would eat.
After many years of increasing curiosity about hunting, I'd sweet-talked my way into a trip with Marvin Bendele, the director of Foodways Texas, and Jess Pryles, the meat maven behind her eponymous website and a fall event called the Carnivore's Ball.
Even though I grew up in a rural area surrounded by hunting culture, I'd never shot a gun. My parents were peace-loving hippies who, after my dad was drafted and spent four years in the Air Force, chose to spend most of their outdoor time camping and canoeing.
Living in Texas for a decade, I've had plenty of chances to think about why I've been stuck on the outskirts of hunting culture. My family members own guns but not the land on which to hunt. We eat meat but have spent our professional lives working to earn money to buy it instead of spending that time acquiring it by our own means.
(Excerpt) Read more at seattletimes.com ...
I actually respect those who want to take meat by hunting. Heck, I do it myself, and have almost all my life.
Meat! Get in my belly!
Thanks for posting this.
...after my dad was drafted and spent four years in the Air Force...Either your dad was drafted OR he enlisted in the Air Force -- pick one. If he had been drafted, he would have spent two years in either the Army or possibly the Marine Corps.
The Air Force and the Navy (in my case) were where people went to avoid getting drafted.
I’m very fond of venison, but man! it takes a lot of time and work to get your own. The hunting part is easy, up to the killing shot. But then . . .
Two philosophies from my and my wife’s grandparents:
1. If you kill it, you eat it (varmints and predators excluded, of course).
2. Only plant fruit bearing trees.
Deep breath........... And relax Bob.............repeat
Good Stuff!
Did you see the comment from the moron posted in response to the article?
Mary Finelli 8 hours ago
Rather than “Can you do it?” the question should be “Should you do it?”
There is no “honor” in killing a fellow sentient being unless it is in the best interest of that being to do so (e.g., euthanasia). All of the nutrients we need to thrive can be obtained more healthfully, humanely, and environmentally responsibly from plant sources. Needlessly harming an animal for food or curiosity or any other reason is animal abuse: plain, ugly, and unjustifiable.
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BTW, IIRC, Medina is one of the Counties in TX where CWD has showed up. My County is also being monitored, but I don’t think there have been any cases.
I know they’re monitoring next door in Bandera County too.
I was thinking in Bandera they had a positive in a white tail breeding/game ranch herd.
I wonder if there’s a quarantine for breeding stock across County lines?
Simple. Kill what you will eat, or will sell or give away for food.
I got that notice, “Greetings from the President of the United States” back in early 1966. I then went and joined the US Air Force.
Two days later I then got another letter from the draft board...”Our monthly quota of draftees is complete. You are not needed at this time. Do not report to the Draft Board.”
Bummer. I was already in for four years.
That’s what I heard also. It seems a quarantine should be a top priority.
LOL
And all this time I've been pleased with myself about the reactions I'd get when I told about enlisting to evade the draft....
After a couple of years' exposure to ROTC units at the college I'd attended, when I well and truly screwed up in '64 and dropped out, then promptly got my "Greetings" letter, it didn't take more than the time to find a recruiter to decide I wanted no part at all with any of those fledgling AhMay types in charge. Even if all I did was police up the area and go to the latrine under their command.
Wound up with less sea duty time than some people had falling overboard, got shot at (accidentally and without effect) exactly one time and have forever since referred to the whole affair as My Ten Million Dollar Experience: Wouldn't take a million for the people I met and the places/things I saw, wouldn't take NINE damn million to do it again.
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