I love hunting. It is a big heritage in my family on both sides. There is even a tradition on my side that the girls can’t get their ears pierced until they get their first buck, kind of a coming-of-age/right-of-passage. I was ten and it was a very proud moment, for myself and also for my father. Every October we take a break from homeschool and the kids stay with my parents for a week so I can hunt elk. Honestly, I enjoy it as much for the time to myself as for the hunting. For me, hunting is more than just getting an animal. I love being out in God’s creation, in the stillness, beauty and silence, away from distractions and busyness and noise, just being alone with God. It’s as close to
Last year my daughter was old enough to start hunting and very excited to join the family legacy. However, she was miffed when I mentioned our annual break in October. She wanted to stay so that I could take her hunting. We had already planned for hunting to be a special time with dad since he is vastly more experienced and it would give them something to bond over. She was impatient and wanted to jump in when season opened. She didn’t want to wait until November when deer hunting is better. (And she reiterated this argument again this year) I tried to explain all this, along with the fact that it would take away my chance of getting an elk, to which she replied, “What’s the point, you never get anything anyway so why not take me hunting instead?”…
