When I moved here I discovered the Shillapoo Wildlife Refuge. It is the closest thing I can find that resembles wilderness and I like to stroll and take soul-searching walks. There is, however, a brief hunting season. Coming from an urban area, I was at first uncomfortable with passing an occasional hunter with rifle, but I’ve gotten used to it with the passing years.
When I left the refuge at dusk on a recent Sunday, there was a sweet flock of pintail ducks on the water, feet from the shore. When I returned Monday afternoon, 11 dead ducks littered the shoreline. Someone had removed only breast meat and left the rest behind.
Someone must have stood on the shore and picked off the ducks one at a time. I was appalled. I am not against eating meat, but what sport or skill is there in standing feet from one’s prey, picking them off one at a time? And if one is going to kill an animal, why not take all the meat? Drumsticks, wings, and the backs (for soup) were left behind.
I wish that hunter had taken all the ducks home, instead of leaving the remains behind to spoil my day.