My first impression of hunting was a disturbing one, watching maggots crawl out of a small buck's eyes as it lay in a friend's backyard in central Wyoming.
I couldn't understand the concept of hunting, and it wasn't something my family did. Even in college, when my boyfriend told me he'd shot a deer, I reacted negatively, calling him a "Bambi killer" and slamming my laptop closed.
I understood, on some level, the hypocrisy. But I couldn't understand why he wanted to kill something, or how someone I loved could find joy in taking a life.
Now, I take my daughter hunting with me, teaching her about the sport and its lessons.
Author's summary: Former anti-hunter now hunts with daughter.