Almost every male in my family is a hunter.  Both of my grandpas were big hunters in their day.  My dad is still a big hunter.  When my step-dad was younger, he hunted.  I’m from Wisconsin; almost everybody I know is a hunter.  Every year for Halloween, Heath dressed up like a hunter.  Yeah, every year. 

            I have never been interested in hunting.  The most hunting I have ever done was hunting squirrels in the backyard.  A lot of my friends used to call me a pussy because I wasn’t into hunting. 

            I remember going to a friend’s house whose dad was a big hunter.  His dad had tons of animals mounted on the wall.  He had a huge deer right in the middle of his living room.  I asked him why he had all of these dead animals stuffed and mounted.  “They are beautiful animals and I enjoy looking at them,” he replied.  I think my girlfriend is extremely beautiful.  I have pictures of her.

            People never understood why I didn’t like hunting, I started to wonder that myself.  I figured it probably stemmed back to my childhood.  I started thinking and going back, and I think I found my answer.

            When I was little, I lived behind my grandparents.  One afternoon, I was out playing in my backyard when my grandpa came over.  We were wearing matching giant smiles.  I always got happy when Grandpa came over.  He would yell “Andrew Jackson!” and I would come running. 

            This day, he came over and told me he had a big surprise for me.  I was so pumped.  Grandpa had a way of making the smallest thing into a huge deal to me.  He would find things and fix them up for me and I would think it was the coolest toy ever.  The best bike I ever had, was one that my grandpa found in somebody’s garbage and fixed up for me.  I didn’t get a bike this time.

            Grandpa brought me over to his house across the alley.  I didn’t see any toys.  I didn’t see a bike.  I didn’t even see a Happy Meal from McDonald’s.  That’s when he showed me his big surprise.  I’ll never forget what he said to me next. 

            “Have you ever seen the movie Bambi?”

            “Yeah.  I love that movie.”

            “Well you know in the movie when the hunters killed Bambi’s mom?”

            “Yeah…”

            “Well look!  I got Bambi!”

            He pointed up to a big dead dear hanging from his tree.  The same tree that I climbed every day.  It was all bloody and smelly, with its tongue hanging out.  Flies swarmed around the gunshot hole in the dead animal’s chest. 

            I was traumatized.  I ran home crying.  Grandpa almost fell down laughing.  I will never forget that day.  I was only five years old.  That’s just how Grandpa was.  Now anytime anybody asks me why I never hunt, I tell them.  Because my grandpa killed Bambi. 

            To make matters worse, a few weeks ago my Step-dad killed Thumper.