Something occurred to me the other day that seems very strange.
Imagine you’re riding with a friend on a country road, when suddenly a fox appears in the middle of the road. The driver has plenty of time to safely hit the brakes, but doesn’t. The fox sees the oncoming car and tries to get to the shoulder, but your friend swerves to intentionally run over and kill it. You’d think your “friend” was a psycho, right?
How is that appreciably different from hunting?
I’ve never met anyone who goes out hunting because he’s hungry and needs a deer to feed his family. Likewise with killing a rabbit for a pair of gloves. There’s nothing you can get hunting that you can’t buy faster, easier, and cheaper somewhere else: typically, in ways that don’t involve things like synthetic urine, heart attacks in the middle of nowhere, and hundreds or thousands of dollars in clothing and equipment.
What it boils down to is that that these people go out into the forest and kill things because they just… really like to kill things. Doesn’t that seem a tad–I don’t know–sociopathic? At least in my hypothetical situation, your friend driving didn’t go out with the explicit intention of killing something.
I don’t have a problem with hunting. If someone wants to get up before dawn so they can sit in a tree, balance a rifle across their knees, and drink a beer, great. Have fun with that. But every time I find out someone I know is a hunter, I’m forced to wonder what it is that they find pleasurable about killing animals, and why that behavior is still considered normal.