A Turkish hunt ....
Today was great. Exhausting, but great.
I woke at 5 a.m. to go hunting with one of the students from my school. I was excited about this for last few days, because it's been a long time since I killed anything.
Our prey was birds and that was a personal joy for me.
Emre, the student who invited me, picked me up and we went off to the woods looking for birds. There was one little problem I realized when I got out there.
I didn't know what particular type of bird we were hunting. Some of you may know I am familiar with hunting California Quail, a delicious bird that's also a pleasure to kill.
When we got to the woods, I asked Emre what kind of birds we were looking for, except he didn't know the bird names in English and I didn't know them in Turkish.
No problem, I adopted the shoot at any reasonable sized bird within range approach. I was determined to kill a bird today for two reasons: 1) I wanted to kill something. 2) I fucking hate birds.
They are a nuisance and parasite on the food chain. They are disease carrying rodents with wings that should all be killed. The only good bird is a dead one.
Unfortunately, my vengeance on birds would not be fulfilled. After trudging through the mud, up hills and across rivers for several hours, there were just no birds to have. Our party of five hunters managed one kill.
It was great holding a gun again and being outdoors though. It brought back memories from hunting with my father and grandfather as a child. For anyone who attempted such a feat, and all should because killing animals is almost better than eating them, there are some things that can only be experienced in the "cheap showiness of nature."
It had been so long since I was in the outdoors, that I forgot how quiet it is out there. You can hear anything between shotgun blasts. A bird's single chirp, a squirrel stepping on a tree branch (if I would have seen a squirrel I would have killed it.) It's quite an amazing experience.
Walking through the natural outdoors of Turkey I also fantasized.
I thought how great it would be to walk through Izmit, the town I live in, with the same shotgun and pocket full of shells.
I would walk to school like I do everyday, but I would make a special stop.
At the taxi stand.
There I would have an unending supply of pigeons to kill.
(You thought I was going to write something about killing people, didn't you.)
Birds are bad and pigeons are the lowest of the creatures. Every day, I walk to school and pass one of the biggest collections of pigeons I've ever seen gathering eating the bread crumbs some dumbass throws at them.
These pigeons congregate day and night at the taxi stand. It normally wouldn't bother me except I have to walk by there to get to school.
They fly around the buildings, shitting on anything below. They are a nuisance and a cancer on Izmit, but no one seems to have the gall to walk out there and kill them. Maybe I should. If its against the law, which I assume it is, I will just tell them, "I didn't know. We do this all the time in my country."
Forget it. That excuse only works in America.
I woke at 5 a.m. to go hunting with one of the students from my school. I was excited about this for last few days, because it's been a long time since I killed anything.
Our prey was birds and that was a personal joy for me.
Emre, the student who invited me, picked me up and we went off to the woods looking for birds. There was one little problem I realized when I got out there.
I didn't know what particular type of bird we were hunting. Some of you may know I am familiar with hunting California Quail, a delicious bird that's also a pleasure to kill.
When we got to the woods, I asked Emre what kind of birds we were looking for, except he didn't know the bird names in English and I didn't know them in Turkish.
No problem, I adopted the shoot at any reasonable sized bird within range approach. I was determined to kill a bird today for two reasons: 1) I wanted to kill something. 2) I fucking hate birds.
They are a nuisance and parasite on the food chain. They are disease carrying rodents with wings that should all be killed. The only good bird is a dead one.
Unfortunately, my vengeance on birds would not be fulfilled. After trudging through the mud, up hills and across rivers for several hours, there were just no birds to have. Our party of five hunters managed one kill.
It was great holding a gun again and being outdoors though. It brought back memories from hunting with my father and grandfather as a child. For anyone who attempted such a feat, and all should because killing animals is almost better than eating them, there are some things that can only be experienced in the "cheap showiness of nature."
It had been so long since I was in the outdoors, that I forgot how quiet it is out there. You can hear anything between shotgun blasts. A bird's single chirp, a squirrel stepping on a tree branch (if I would have seen a squirrel I would have killed it.) It's quite an amazing experience.
Walking through the natural outdoors of Turkey I also fantasized.
I thought how great it would be to walk through Izmit, the town I live in, with the same shotgun and pocket full of shells.
I would walk to school like I do everyday, but I would make a special stop.
At the taxi stand.
There I would have an unending supply of pigeons to kill.
(You thought I was going to write something about killing people, didn't you.)
Birds are bad and pigeons are the lowest of the creatures. Every day, I walk to school and pass one of the biggest collections of pigeons I've ever seen gathering eating the bread crumbs some dumbass throws at them.
These pigeons congregate day and night at the taxi stand. It normally wouldn't bother me except I have to walk by there to get to school. They fly around the buildings, shitting on anything below. They are a nuisance and a cancer on Izmit, but no one seems to have the gall to walk out there and kill them. Maybe I should. If its against the law, which I assume it is, I will just tell them, "I didn't know. We do this all the time in my country."
Forget it. That excuse only works in America.
posted by James at 8:18 PM
6 Comments:
Have you started saying this to yourself?
"They're just birds. You don't control the birds. You will someday, but not today."
I say, animals are for eating, not for living with.
killing animals is almost better than eating them!
Bad bunny!
When I read about you hunting, I can't believe you're from California. Oh, wait, you're from Palmdale...
-Matt C.
I wonder if the pigeons would taste as good as squabs
I never imagined you as a hunter. Since I married a girl from Wisconsin, I am past due for a trip "up north" to shoot myself a bambi.
By the way. I'm so jealous that I still enjoy listening to the stories of a smoker. I quit on Jan. 1. Remember when we used to go back in the alley in Selma and discuss the funniest part of the previous night's episode of The Simpsons?
I'm so miserable. How addicting is heroin?
When are we gonna get some comments from the man behind the cigarette and my favorite handicapper on the death of his beloved Barbaro, LOL. And I concur with "Annonymous" regarding the days back in Selma, are we really reflecting fondly on Selma?
Rits
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