Why Did God Put Us Here? With a Caveat on The Proper and Improper Use of Firearms

It is 86 degrees Fahrenheit at 8 o'clock, the hygrometer is at 75%, and the water is half way up the storm glass, indicating severe low pressure.  In a word, we are waiting for a promised summer storm of significant intensity.  Such barometric eccentricities often bring the woods and lakes to life, and tonight is no exception.  I was on the back porch reading when I heard the most horrible ruckus from the secret garden.  Upon investigation, I found that all four dogs had closed on three raccoons, and the fight was on.  Each terrier had engaged a coon directly and violently, and the hound and spaniel were holding the third at the top of a rather largish boxwood.  I left the terriers to their business and snagged Nike (Tristan would never understand or accept a stray gunshot wound or significant lacerations from a fight) and Oscar (who is not yet broken to gunshots), and hurried them into the house, where I retrieved my revolver.  By the time I returned, both coons on the ground were breathing their last and the third was treed, while the terriers were casting in search of more prey.  I dispatched all three vermin and called the dogs in to reward them for their work. 

It may seem gruesome to some, but vermin control is a necessary part of country living, as the depredations on my laying flock last week so amply illustrate.  And it is good to see a creature do what it is bred and kept to do.  The dogs all responded instinctively to the roles to which they were born, and it is a good thing to see creatures fulfill their purpose.  I have often wondered if we humans would be a bit more well intentioned toward each other if we lived in a culture or a society which encouraged us to be the creatures and to do the jobs we were created to do, that is, to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love our neighbors as ourselves; and to tend this garden that God has given us.  While I am a hopeless romantic, I am not so naive as to believe that humans in agrarian societies are any more humane or well behaved than those who live in cities.  History proves otherwise.  But it does cause me to ponder what our jobs really are, what we are born to be and to do.   I'm not so sure we have done a good job of discerning the answer to that question, and I know we have not lived into the answer as a species.

I believe that we homo-sapiens often believe we have found the answer to the above question, and our answers are generally involved with what some would call finding-one's-self, or being true to one's feelings.  I would call such nonsense selfishness of the highest order.  I recall being in a rather low grade theological discussion some years back where one of the participants suggested that since he was obviously pre-disposed to a certain type of behavior which the Bible said is sinful, that it made perfect sense to him that he could best glorify God and find fulfillment by being the best practitioner of those predispositions that God had given him.  I remember thinking at the time what self-centered nonsense that was, and wondering if he would feel the same if his activity of choice was murder or bank robbery, instead of sexual license.  He had in effect rejected the idea of eternal moral imperatives which are self-evident in nature and distilled in Sacred Scripture, in favor of justifying his own predilections in relationship to prevailing cultural norms.  The sad thing was that most of the people there agreed with him.  Better than half of them were ordained.

I suppose it is my experience with the mental constructions of my fellow humans which makes me value so highly my time with working dogs and horses.  They seldom overthink an issue.  They may be willfully disobedient, but when it comes to the rat killing or the chase, their instincts kick in and they do what they were born to do without excuse or cowardice.  I suppose even the raccoons are only doing what they were bred to do when they eat my chickens and quail.  They are worthy opponents who at the end of the day are true to their nature and fight the good fight.  O that we humans might so live and die..."facing fearful odds, for the ashes of our fathers, and the temples of our gods."  Perhaps then I would want to spend more time with people, and yearn less for the company of good dogs, faithful horses, and the thrill of field sport.  Saint Hubert pray for me, a sinner.

A Caveat: Let the Buyer Beware!

     While I was cleaning my weapon tonight, I got to thinking.  I grew up with Hoppe's #9 Gun Cleaning Solvent.  It has a sweet, and far from unpleasant odor, and it has always gotten me to think about things.  It is a sort of mental trigger to the mind of a small town Indiana boy.  Tonight it got me thinking about the kills that made the cleaning necessary.  I shot the raccoons in question with .357 Magnum caliber rounds tipped with 140 grain Barnes expander bullets.  They are self defense rounds made to stop a human, or a coyote, or even a deer.  (It may sound like a lot of gun for a raccoon, but when only a single weapon is maintained for emergencies, it must be prepared for every possible scenario, not just for raccoons.) The shots were well placed from a distance of three or four feet.  Sensation may have stopped instantaneously, but I doubt it.  I have killed a lot of game, and there is almost always a lot of thrashing around, gasping, muscle contractions, and the most horrid sounds.  It was like that tonight with both of the coons I had to dispatch with a shot.  They died clean and quickly, but not instantaneously.

I point this out specifically to dissuade any reader who thinks that killing anything or anyone with firearms or any other weapon is clean, or quick, or without emotion.  Movies and TV have made many think that you pull a trigger and the target falls lifeless and that is that.  Death is a horrible thing, and killing is a terrible responsibility never to be taken lightly.  What is usually portrayed on the screen is a lie, and I hope that anyone reading this who plans to use a firearm for any reason will seek out proper training from qualified personnel, and consider what you are doing.  I would suggest that you spend a couple of seasons hunting, so that you can experience the consequences of the thing that you do when you discharge a firearm with the intent to kill.  Hunting is a noble pursuit which puts us in closer contact with our food chain and helps us to appreciate what we consume.  Lawful defense of family and country are in my opinion the sacred responsibilities of every person.  But frivolous and unknowing use of firearms is a curse that has brought too much tragedy into the world.  Consider the consequences of your actions, and know the capabilities of the tools you use.  I write this as a lifelong hunter and fisherman, a retired soldier, and as a life member of the National Rifle Association.