I generally get Time magazine a few weeks late as it circulates through all the VPs in my office. Here was the first page “American Scene” article from August 7 issue:
"For every sportsman, there are certain moments when the elements of his pastime come together perfectly. The canoe breaks through the rapids. The marlin leaps. The spaniel flushes the grouse. For Duane Spooner, a North Dakota gunsmith, this ideal moment involves a rifle, a scope and a deadly long-range shot at his favorite quarry, the prairie dog. “The head goes one way,” says Spooner, grinning, “the tail goes the other way, and everything in between just disappears.” Spooner’s son Eric, 16, shares his dad’s enthusiasm. “It’s relaxing,” he says. “I like seeing how high they fly. We have little contests where we go out and see who can get the longest hang time on a prairie dog.”
Shocking? Disgusting? Pathological? To outsiders, maybe, but not to some 2,000 devoted hunters who gathered last week in Pierre, S.D., for the annual convention of the Varmint Hunters Association."
Related question is why do people seem to make a distinction with regard to this between hunting and fishing? It would seem to me that these are the same thing, and involve the same issues. Is this because of some doubts as to whether fish feel pain?
Pathological? Probably not; humans have been killing things since the dawn of our existence, and it is doubtless very deeply ingrained in us to feel satisfaction when we make a kill.
Shocking? Disgusting? Hey, whatever floats your boat. Shooting things is pretty low down on my list for good entertainment or conversation, but that’s just me.
(Any other females—if any others made it past the OP—tend to feel that a low glee quotient seems in some way manlier on a guy who has to kill something? Somehow an air of stern pity is more attractive than a “Yeah, I nailed that fucker!” Well, never mind, I guess that’s not really what the OP wanted to know.)
Your description reminds me strongly of Atticus Finch shooting down the mad dog in “To Kill a Mockingbird.” I hunted quite a bit with my father when I was a kid. It never bothered me when he shot an animal, but when I grew old enough to have my own gun, and later on actually started killing things myself, I had to quit. Oh, I don’t think hunting is immoral or anything like that, but it felt wrong for me. I just empathized too much with the animal then. I felt bad, because the only reason I was there was really to spend time with my Dad. Killing something for that just didn’t feel right.
I prefer shooting at inanimate targets, myself, but that’s mostly because I’m not physically fit for running around in the hot sun after a prairie dog. The act of competition is soothing, along with holding such power (and responsibility) in your hands.
So, no, I don’t find it disgusting. I just don’t find it to my liking.