Why I Hunt
By David Archer
I make no apology for being a hunter.
I do not have to justify
My passion for killing animals.
Nor am I challenged by someone asking,
How would you like to be the prey?
I am prey!
I am prey to stalking microbes;
I am prey to heart disease.
I am prey to stalking cancer cells,
And I am prey to the possibility of meeting
A drunk driver.
I celebrate life, but I tip-toe through
My forest acutely aware that death
Preys upon me, And it is this primordial participation in
The hunt that every nerve in my body strains to release
So what do I gain from slaying a winged
Mallard gliding and dipping down into my set.
Is it the artful deception of my decoys?
Is it the carefully designed camouflage of my boat?
Is it the anticipation and momentary thrill of a returned quack?
Or the intense concentration of my lab as he waits for the
Explosive report of my shotgun?
No, it is at this precise moment of death
I am alive.
I make no apology.