Bear Heart’s Hunting Lesson, Part 2

I asked my son after he had killed his first squirrel, “Did you get that heart-pumping feeling?” He said, “Not really.” And I know where he is coming from.

My first kill was a blue-winged teal about 30 years ago. I didn’t have time to get that feeling I get now when I hear a squirrel or rabbit scampering closer or when a flock of ducks decides to give my decoys a second look. I think that hunting and what it means becomes more of a real thing as you get older, and when you are younger, you’re not really sure why you think you’re a hunter. We don’t really grasp everything that comes with it until we are mature enough to reflect on it. This may sound like I have had too many Oktoberfests, but the truth is I’ve only had four.

And kind of a follow-up to John’s comment on my last post. As far as that glow a father should get? It hasn’t happened to me, I must say. I actually feel that a MUCH heavier weight has been laid on my shoulders. That glowing feeling will come when I am looking back on life and know that I have raised a responsible, ethical, thoughtful, respectful hunter. That is when I’ll be proud.

So – without further adieu – the second part of Bear Heart’s hunting lessons. And thank you to all who read the first part.

From the book -

“I was about eight when I killed my first squirrel. I used something similar to a slingshot and got pretty good with it. Before I shot the squirrel I said, ” My little brother, I’m going to take your life. I have an old aunt who has come to visit and she’s not feeling too well – she’s blind and can’t do anything for herself at home. I understand that our four-legged relatives have medicine that can make humans feel better and I want this for my aunt. In time, when my body ceases to live and is put down into the ground, from it something will grow so that your people might eat and keep on living. That was the understanding between your people and mine. I will not let you suffer a long time, but I need you and the meat that you carry with you. I’m doing it for love.

I killed that squirrel with my first shot. Before picking it up, I placed my hand over it’s head and made a circular motion, saying, ” Mah-doh [thank you].” The circular motion made with the hand symbolized the circle of life – humans being fed by animals, then animals feeding on the plant life after humans have been returned to the earth. A never-ending exchange.

Then I pulled the fur from the forelegs and buried it at the base of the tree where I’d found it to ensure that many more squirrels would be born to take the place of the one I killed. As I headed for home, I carried that squirrel carefully. Once we picked up the kill, we tried not to let it fall to the ground until we got back to our home because dragging it on the ground showed disrespect. The animal, even if involuntarily, gave itself to us – it was a gift.

I had a cousin who cooked for us and, knowing that I wasn’t supposed to eat my first kill, when I got home, I gave the squirrel to her to cook for my aunt. I went back outside and was stooped over a wash basin washing my hands when all of a sudden – whack! My cousin whacked me with that squirrel, right on my rear end. I had forgotten all about it, but knew immediately what it meant. They did that with your first kill to make you a better hunter. She hit me on behalf of the squirrel, as if the squirrel itself was tagging me for killing him. Now we were even – I killed it but it hit me. It was a way of balancing everything out so that I wouldn’t feel guilty about taking it’s life.”

Until I can write again -

Your friend -

Casey

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