It cannot be easy to stand up amongst a group of anti-hunters and confess to having once been part of the 'fishing/hunting' brigade. Jeremy wrote this on our Facebook page, we felt it a worthy read so are publishing it here with his permission.We admire this person's honesty and applaud him for having the courage to 'see the light' and change. This means there is also a small glimmer of hope that others may also change. Thank you for sharing your story with us Jeremy H. We appreciate it. -Team WWNBSAH
'' There really isn't a
wonderfully magical story I have to tell. I was more a fisherman than hunter. I
grew up fishing with my grandfather so it was just normal. I can remember at a
young age asking him if it hurt the fish when we caught them (and threw them in
a cooler to suffocate), he said "no" that "fish don't
feel". I still love the man to death, but will always remember that lie. What
a terrible thing to teach a child.
I knew something didn't sound right about
that as I could see the fish struggle for their lives when we reeled them in
then gasp for air while they slowly died. Still, I had been raised to think
that this was normal and necessary so I kept my eyes closed to the truth.
As I
got older I practiced catch and release mostly as I liked to fish, but didn't
enjoy the killing them part (oddly, it didn't stop me from eating fish caught
by others). The last time I did fish was many years ago with my ex-father-in-law.
The salmon were running. Most had already laid eggs or fertilized them and were
swimming to their death, though there was no way of looking at them to know for
sure. We netted a couple and I felt good about it as the fish fed myself, my ex-wife,
her family and my grandparents. I also felt bad about it when I went to
"clean" it and found what seemed like an endless amount of eggs
inside of both fish I had caught.
At that point though I had found native
spirituality and had grown interest in connecting with that way of life, which
I felt meant I had to fish and hunt. So I connected with a buddy that grew up
hunting and went on deer and turkey hunts. Not as a hunter, more an observer.
Then came the fateful day that I decided it was time for me to
"harvest" a deer. We sat in a blind about 50 yards from a bait pile.
Fresh snow had fallen and the woods were beautiful.
We watched as a group of
about a dozen or so deer came into feed on the free food. All females and their
young. I sat frozen watching them through the scope of the rifle for nearly a
half and hour. My buddy quietly reminding me that he had doe permits and I
could shoot anything I liked.
I couldn't, I was so amazed by their grace and
beauty. Something spooked them and they ran off. My buddy was pretty fired up
for not taking a shot. But we sat and waited to see if anything else came in.
Then came a small yearling. My friend said "It's alone, it's mother is
more than likely dead and it will not survive the winter. If you don't shoot it
it will die a horrible death of starvation". I was still frozen. I didn't
want to kill it, but the thought of it starving was more than I could bear. My
friend said "Take it or give me the damn gun and I'll do it".
So I
took aim and fired (my first time shooting a rifle). I was off the mark and hit
the poor thing on the front shoulder, wounding it, but not killing it. We
waited before we tracked it which wasn't hard with the trail of blood it left.
We found it about 100 yards away laying in some brush. Slowly dying, shaking
and scared, unable to move (other than it's head which swayed like stevie
wonder's when he sings).
My buddy told me to aim for the base of the neck and
shoot it in the spin which would kill it. I took aim, but looked away as I
squeezed the trigger. I was an inch off my mark, my friend took the gun and
finished the job putting the poor deer out of it's misery. I was in tears
knowing I hadn't done the job without causing great suffering first.
My buddy
offered to go get the four wheeler to drag the body out and back to camp. I
declined. I knelt by the lifeless body, full of emotion. I apologized to the
deer for taking it's life, I thanked it and the great spirit for the
nourishment it would provide me. Then I lifted it to my shoulders and carried
it about a half mile back to camp. I knew on that walk that I would enjoy the
meat, but I also knew it would be the last time I would hunt unless it were
truly a matter of life and death for me.
We processed the meat and I tried to
tan the hide to make a blanket for my young son (I really wanted to use
everything I could if possible and I wasn't looking for a trophy).
That was
nearly 20 years ago. I still feel a tremendous amount of guilt for taking that
life that was not mine to take. It took a number of years, but I eventually
became vegan.
Which came from a combination of things that happened through my
life. That incident was the beginning. What sealed the deal in making me vegan
was working with animals.
I've been around dogs, cats, ferrets, turtles, birds,
and other "domestics" my whole life. Then I rescued my first raccoon.
The bond we formed was one I had never experienced with a non-human animal.
I
saw her need for love, affection, safety, and happiness. I knew when I looked
into her eyes that I could not continue to harm animals directly or indirectly.
Shortly after we adopted our first dog; from a wonderful local farm animal
sanctuary (run by vegans) that had rescued her from a terrible situation. My
eyes were fully opened. It felt so freeing to know the truth.
It felt so good
to help animals instead of seeing them as mindless creatures that only served
the purpose of providing food for others or entertainment.
Every day that I am
vegan I learn more, I feel more, I see more. This was only possible because I
was able to see the truth and live compassion. I hear many hunters say they
respect the animals they kill. I hear many people say they love animals. I can
say with confidence that they have no idea (what ) the true definition of
"respect" and "love" are until they live those principals.
The only way to live them is to go vegan and put more into the world than you
take out.
So that's my story. Sorry to be so long winded about it, but it feels
good to tell it.''
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