I haven't encountered loony behaviour---quite the opposite, more likely rolling of the eyes with look of resignation---when I mention in the company of strangers shooting birds and animals where I live in North America.

For real sport, London is the best place to drop that I'm hunter and trapper. Especially in a pub. First, a shocked silence. Then the old white-haired man must be joking, especially one with a sweet, old white-haired wife.

I taper off the Englanders with soothing words that I don't apologize for what I do, and my type are like dinosaurs who won't last forever. When we die it will be as they want it to be. Often my victims buy me a drink.