Better Than The Rest?
November 4, 2008
*Fiction*
Fred Sumner grew up in rural Maine a dirt-poor boy whose father labored in the the woods trying to eke out a living chopping on a log landing for a local lumber company. Often his days began long before the morning sun and ended after dark under the headlights of an old rusted out stake-bodied pick-up truck. It was a tough life but it was the only one Fred’s father knew.
Fred recalls his 10th birthday when his father wakened him early on a Monday morning in summer. It was dark out and he could smell coffee brewing and breakfast cooking. His mother was frying bacon and making toast for Fred and his Dad. Once she served them she went on with the rest of her chores which included preparing lunches for them both. Fred was headed to work with his Dad. It was time to learn about logging so Fred could contribute to the family income.
This kind of lifestyle was a direct reflection on how Fred learned to hunt during the various seasons. Deer season was his favorite. He just loved the season, the smell of rotting foliage, the bite in the air and just being in the woods. But Fred also understood that hunting deer was serious business in his family. Meat was necessary for winter survival.
The Sumner family paid little attention to deer tags and bag limits, although they did make the trip in to the town office and bought licenses. Ever since Fred could remember, when you went deer hunting you shot all the deer you could. It was a matter of survival.
One day when Fred was following his father through the woods, he looked up in time to see his Dad pull up his rifle and shoot three times. When the smoke had cleared, his father had brought down three deer. They dressed the deer and buried them in the leaves and continued the hunt.
The Sumner family seldom had an empty freezer heading into the long winter months and Fred and his Dad did everything they could to make sure that didn’t happen. As Fred recalled his younger days, he also remembers taking the family .22 Remington single-shot rifle out to shoot coyote. He remembers vividly what his father told him one day about the coyotes: “They’re a worthless creature. Don’t even know why God put the damned things here to begin with. No good for nothin’ and we need to kill everyone we see!”
That was over 40 years ago and now Fred is a different man. He sees things in a different light than he did as a kid. No longer does he think of hunting as a means of survival, after all he has a good paying job that affords him to live in a nice home closer to the city where services are closer at hand.
As a matter of fact, Fred no longer owns any guns. He thinks they are a socially controversial item that he and his neighbors can get along fine without. He does hunt but only with a conventional long bow. The reason he hunts isn’t so much for the meat or definitely not the trophy. It’s for the feeling, the experience, the sense of becoming one with nature, to feel on an even plane with the other predators that free range through the wilderness.
Fred has become somewhat of an activist. He fights to preserve lands to wilderness. He signs petitions in order to save wolves, coyotes, mountain lions and bears - many of the same animals his Dad taught him to kill. Fred looks down on those who hunt for meat. He shows little understanding or respect for those who hunt with rifles and shotguns and gets visibly angry when he encounters those who use optics, calling devices, scents and lures. This is cheating in Fred’s eyes. What has happened to Fred?
Fred has progressed from a world of bitter reality into a modern world with twisted values and selfish pursuits. A world that voices pride in tolerance and acceptance yet shows little in actions. Fred has become as many Americans, narcissistic with little respect for others backgrounds, family values and heritages.
If Fred’s father were alive today he would have difficulty understanding what happened to his son. He could respect the fact that Fred put down his rifle in favor of a longbow. He would also gain understanding his desire to help protect every living creature and find ways of preserving the essential habitat these animals need to live in.
What his Dad could not understand is his son’s attitude that he has become better than the rest. That he would actively seek the protection of predators at the expense of man losing his ability to protect his property, goes against everything he was taught. This isn’t the son he raised. Where did he go wrong?
Fred turns down his paved driveway that leads in to his 5,000 square foot dream home that sits quietly on 2,000 posted acres. His headlight illuminate three deer crossing the drive and Fred smiles knowing that what he has is his and that he’ll do what is necessary to keep it, even if it means taking from others. This is the world we now live in.
Tom Remington
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I bet there is a alot of people out there who can relate to this story.
Have been told by my parents that in my early years I was fed allot of wild game. Cock Birds, Rabbit, Squirrel, Coon, Wood Chuck, Venison.
Times must have been tough back in my parents early years. We lived on 4 acres my Grandfather had 2 and my Dad the other 2. Rural countryside plenty of small and large game. The men kept the chest freezers full. The women and kids kept the garden which supplied the trimmings. When I was old enough I helped fill the freezer. Not with the small game so much, Jobs must have improved because Mom started using the Grocery store more.
Forward to 2000. Dad and I sitting on our Hunting Camps front porch on a mid summers evening. Always only an arms reach from the 22 Hornet. Down the front yard about 130yrds. pops up a Groundhog. Dad says bet you will never hit him. (he ALWAYS said that. Makes you try harder for that clean shot!) Groundhog ends up with it’s feet in the air a sure sign of a clean hit!
I take the walk and carry the game back to Dad. Show me how you skin this thing? Why? he asked. Because you have told me I liked eating this. I was too young to remember and would like to try it. He laughed at me and said the heck with that, we got hamburger in the freezer!
Where the garden was is a patch incorporated into the rest of the yard that I mow. No small game hunting out the back door anymore, were all suburbia now. Used to be change was slower in coming around.
Three miles up the road from where I’m sitting is the Daniel Boone Homestead (haven’t stopped in for years) Wonder what o’l Dan would have to say if he could see it now.
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