I know, I know, guns don’t kill people, people do. And I get that. I really do get that.
As a matter of fact. I get, in a very firsthand way why people in this country SHOULD be allowed to have guns. I grew up in a family of hunters. For most of my childhood I had never tasted beef. The only meat my family and I ever ate was venison. This wasn’t because we were rugged outdoorsmen trying to make a point. This was because we were poor country people living on a minister’s salary. We couldn’t have afforded to eat meat if my Dad had not been a hunter.
And he was a real hunter! The old kind who spent all day tracking and waiting patiently in the woods, reading little signs in the forest, and talking to nature. He really did too! My Dad would pray out there in the woods and ask the deer who would not make it through the winter, the one who would prefer a quick clean death, to come to where he was. I remember he once killed a big twelve point buck who was blind in one eye & slightly lame in its hind leg. The meat of that deer carried us through the whole winter.
Once, when my brothers were older, Dad went hunting with my teen-aged brother and his best friend. The friend wounded a deer just before he had to leave and get to his job. So my Dad tracked the wounded deer all that day and all the next day, just to put it out of its misery. It was bow season, so when he finally found the big buck he had only one shot to kill it before it would be off tearing through the underbrush, running away. He missed. When the deer took off running, it was slow. It was wounded in the leg. So my Dad took off too, on foot, chasing the deer. Now, if you know anything about deer, you know there is no man alive who can chase a deer on foot, in the woods, and win. Deer are very fast.
But my Dad must have been talking to that deer, or the Great Spirit or Mother Nature or something, because my Dad caught up with it. The deer tripped over a root and went sprawling into a clearing. My Dad tripped over the same root and went sprawling into the same clearing, face to face with the wounded deer. Now, again, if you’ve spent your life on concrete you may think deer are soft. But if you’ve ever been up next to a real deer, you’ll know that face to face with a big strong buck, antlers and all, that the deer is going to win in any hand to hand battle. My Dad must have known this, but to him there was no option. The deer was wounded and would die a slow miserable death from infection, or my Dad would risk his life to do the right thing. Armed with a hunting knife and a large stick, Dad wrestled the deer for an hour. He finally flung his body onto the deer’s back and while it tossed him around, cut its throat with the knife. It wasn’t as clean or as quick as he had hoped. When we butchered the deer we found more than 10 knife cuts. My Dad did not get out of bed for three days & he never really hunted again. He never killed a deer again.
All this is just to say, my family’s hunting style was the old ways, the Native American way. In tune with nature. Calling out the sick and the weak. Killing only to eat. Risking your own life to do the right thing by the people who feed you when it came to that. There are still hunters like this. There are still families in the US who depend on venison to get through the winter. So, that makes one kind of sense.
There are also great bands of humans who call themselves hunters but treat their guns and their trucks like people and treat their dogs like things, and treat the deer like things, and treat Mother Nature like a thing. For a first hand account see Max: A rescued Hound. (click to connect) These humans should not be called hunters. These humans should not even be called people. And these humans should NOT be allowed guns. Plain and simple. These are the kind of people who kill people without remorse and without cause. The proof is already there because dogs are people, deer are people, and Mother Nature in all her glory is a person. These folks kill for entertainment.
When I came back from living in Kenya, I remember people baiting me with questions about whether or not, in a country where private gun ownership was not allowed, whether people still found ways to kill other people. And, yes, absent firearms, people still killed other people. Out in the rural areas they had a policy known as mob justice. If someone out there committed a horror, groups of villagers would gang together, track them down and stone them to death. But I’ll tell you, its a much different thing to kill a person when you can feel their rasping breath on your skin, see the fear in their eyes and know their humanity is no different than yours, than it is to stand at a distance picking off kindergartners like tin cans. I also saw villagers build bow and arrows by hand and kill the odd antelope or warthog to provide for their families. So, in short, I saw first hand that people without guns can still defend themselves, and still hunt.
Maybe guns DONT kill, people do. But, I still don’t think people without humanity should be allowed to own guns. In fact, I don’t think humans without compassion, or reason, or humanity ARE people. So, maybe people DON’T kill people. And maybe humans who don’t qualify as people shouldn’t be sold guns.
The other kind of people who should not be allowed guns are crazy people. I think we have ALL agreed on that already. Its not too hard to figure out who those people are, either. The people who can watch the recent mass murders in Oregon, after all the similar mass murders in this country alone, people who can watch little school children killed, and their teachers jumping into the line of fire to protect them, and still clamor for their inalienable “right” to guns without controls? Those are crazy people. Those are people who SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO BUY GUNS. Because those people no longer have the ability to reason, or feel compassion for other people.