I thought Renaldo Migaldi’s article “Natural Born Killers” (Reader, Section One, 11/26/99) was beautifully written, and especially considering the controversial nature of the subject matter remarkably measured, reasoned, and compassionate. His descriptions of the hunting with the dogs was marvelous, as he joined his father in his “killing a few consciousnesses” in the Michigan countryside.
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
I would ask only one thing. Do you think the hunters actually enjoy the bird’s death, as opposed to the moment of actual killing? I never enjoyed the deaths of anything I ever killed, and the one friend I knew in my adolescent hunting days back in rural Essex who started to, lost my friendship immediately. It was the immense satisfaction, hard to describe, of catching something normally difficult to get within even a 100 yards of–to actually outwit the hapless creature, and yes, the “whack” of capturing the animal–is that really evil? It was, to me, tragic that the bird died, but I was guiltily an addict to an urge that appeared to grow from nowhere, last from my midteens to my second year at college, and to then disappear some multitudes of pheasants later, as mysteriously as it had arrived (and no, the “phase” did not appear to disappear once I started going out with the ladies).
Perhaps that’s why I prefer fishing, and I would like to hear your writer’s views on that topic. You usually have a choice whether to return the creature you outwitted right up to the moment you whack it on the head or not (I hate whacking trout on the head–but they taste so good, and if I continue to eat trout I think it better that I am responsible for the whack than someone else).
Benjamin Ruth
