Hunting, a national pastime, requires guns and responsible hunters

By BEN OLSON/for The Herald  —  As I lurch into yet another year, I resolve that I will write a column on guns that will not ruffle anyone’s feathers. Who am I trying to kid? Let’s get this out of the way so that I can move on to important stuff like my favorite country duos or Jell-O recipes for your next potluck.

I am in favor of guns. Yes, I believe the founders of this country meant that law-abiding citizens should be able to have guns for personal protection and hunting. They put it right down in black and white in the 2nd Amendment to the Constitution.

I am against guns. I believe that criminals and folks with bad intent should not be able to buy cheap, untraceable handguns that are primarily designed for mischief and mayhem.

I don’t believe that I would need Gallup to do a poll to know that most Americans would agree with both statements. Now that I have identified a point of agreement, I think Congress should waste no time in passing legislation so that we all may be happy and safe again. You’re welcome.

I grew up in a family where guns were used for the aforementioned hunting and security. We didn’t think it was unusual. Most people who lived in rural Wisconsin were well armed. My brothers and I had BB guns, pellet guns, and, by the time we were in junior high, 22’s and 4.10 shotguns. My mother told us, “play safe, be back in time for lunch.” as we headed out on an autumn Saturday morning to get a satchel full of squirrels. We knew all of the safety rules, inside and out, and were aware that with one slip-up, we would lose our privileges for an indefinite amount of time.

 At age 12 or 13, we would be included in the fall deer hunt, put in a stand with a high powered rifle to quietly wait for a hapless buck to step within range. Deer hunting always began the Saturday before Thanksgiving and ended at sundown on the Sunday after. Back then, it was bucks only, with a group of 4 hunters able to draw an additional tag to shoot one doe. Many of the kids took the Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday off from school so that they could hunt all nine days. My dad always put my mother in the best deer stand, and most years, she got her buck on opening morning and was back home by 9 o’clock.

When I was in my 20’s, I, dumbly, took jobs where I got laid off when the snow started to fly. Unemployment didn’t pay enough to sustain me and, once I bought everyone their Christmas presents, I was short of money for most of the rest of the winter. I spent much time hunting and fishing so that I could keep my status as an omnivore. When your success or failure as a hunter determines whether or not you eat meat and potatoes, or just potatoes, you get good at it, in a hurry.

Many great memories are forever imprinted in my mind of grouse hunting forays to northern Wisconsin, goose hunting in the fields surrounding my hometown, road trips to the Dakotas for pheasants and bow hunting for mule deer in the high plains  All these trips were with guys that were just as gung-ho about hunting as I was. The post-hunt analysis, over beers, was as much fun as the hunt itself.  I don’t hunt much any more, although I’m not really sure why. After having a herd of elk sauntering through my yard on a regular basis this last year, I know that shooting one wouldn’t really be considered “hunting” at all. I guess, for me, it’s hard to get as enthused about  hunting as it was when I was a young buck.  I am not, as I once was, hungry enough to be compelled to put the camo on and head out into the woods. I am, however, all for you having the chance to be a hunter. Please hunt safely, though, and behave yourself with those guns.