If you have read some of my other blogs you already know that I used to be a hunter. Duck hunting was probably my favorite, but I killed pretty much anything. The killing has mostly stopped, but Karma has kicked in again and my kids and I are paying for it in little ways.
I took my kids to the park the other day to feed the ducks. We took some bread and strolled down to the water where we threw out chunks to the overstuffed fat mallards and the strange looking mixed breeds that after years of hunting, I can’t even identify. My kids were loving it, laughing and giggling as they watched the little vacuum bills suck up the goodies. I think it is great because we are so close to them and the kids can really get a good look at them. The colors were bright even for the time of year. No eclipse drakes here (for the hunters out there).
Then it happens…again. Some old couple comes up to us with a disgusted look on their faces and start yelling at me and the kids. “Why are you doing that? That kills the birds. Feeding them causes them to stay here and rely on people for food. It screws up their migration. Don’t you know the damage you are doing?” My kids are scared and confused but I listen, gritting my teeth, begging them to leave in my mind, before the demons come out. Again, my kids are there, so I apologize quietly. Satisfied that my children were sufficiently saddened and I was adequately reprimanded, they walk off so very proud. My hands are shaking and all I can see are crosshairs on the back of their heads as they leave. I wanted to say so much, but I couldn’t in front of my kids. I am proud to say, that on occasion, I maintain my self control. Here is what I should have said.
“I hate ducks and plan to feed them to death with bread and grains and maybe even corn….the primary crops they feed on in Idaho anyhow, but I’ll feed them until they burst. It will be fantastic and messy at the same time.”
“The bag limit for hunting ducks in Idaho is 7/day for the three months of hunting season. I hunted for 15 years which equates to thousands of dead ducks by my hands. (Raising the bread) Here is to a thousand more. “
“Have you ever wrung a wounded ducks neck? You hold it by the head and swing the body around very hard and fast until the neck breaks. It is the humane thing to do when you only wound one. Let me demonstrate, it may be a little trickier with a healthy one.”
“I plan to kill these ducks in a couple of months, it is only right that I fatten them up first.”
“You think the bread is going to kill them? Nah, it is the Cyanide I laced it with.”
“Do you know what else screws up their migration? 4-shot travelling at 2200 feet per second.”
I understand that these people thought they were helping the planet and the ducks, but leave me and my kids the hell alone. If they knew the cold blooded damned killer they were talking to, they really wouldn’t be bugging me about feeding the ducks. Trust me, you want me feeding the ducks and trying to be a good dad with my kids. I know the other guy. The one I used to be. The one that is lying just underneath the skin. If he comes out, the only comment the coroner will have for their family is…..”They probably would have lived, if he hadn’t gutted them.”
