I can't count the times I've pointed the gun at game, or game birds, saw the sight on the vital spot or saw the right lead, then said quietly "Bang!, I gotcha", knowing that I could have just as surely pulled the trigger and taken it.
But then, the hunter in me returns and I kill again. There's no conflict within me about that. I think of hunting, and the kill, as much more than a way to gain food. It is an outward expression of the inner man that God placed within me. I was born a hunter, and I will make no apologies for it.
As I have said before here, my goal is to kill a limit of doves on my hundredth birthday, not sit there and watch them. I know full well the odds that are against that happening, but hopes and dreams are what keep me going. I can enjoy being beaten by a dove dropping into a peanut field with a 25 mph tailwind, screwing me into the ground as I try in vain to get my muzzle ahead far enough ahead. When I do fire, and miss, I will often stand there and tip my hat to the dove, with a big smile. But, if it turns and comes back by I will try with fervor to take it's life again.
It's a balancing act, and right now I'm in balance............ I think.
