I pastored Somerset Baptist Church in Mt Perry, Ohio, for eleven years in the 1980s and 1990s. Located in the Appalachian foothills, the church was surrounded by beautiful scenery, dusty country roads, stripper oil wells, illegal pot growers, and farms.
One family had a large farm a few miles away from the church. The mom and her three children attended church, but the dad did not. I was a hunter at the time. The dad gave me an open invitation to hunt on their land.
One sunny fall day, I decided to go squirrel hunting by myself on the aforementioned land. I walked the rolling hills for what seemed forever before finding a place to sit in the woods. My gun of choice that day was a bolt-action Mossberg .410 shotgun — a gun I bought for myself when I was twelve.
I plopped myself on the leaf-littered ground and leaned up against a huge tree. I thought that this would be a great spot for spotting squirrels. Long days and short nights had their way with me, and before long, I fell sound asleep. A while later, I was stirred by chipmunks running over and around me. As I lifted my head and looked off into the distance, imagine my surprise to see two foxes intently watching me. What a beautiful sight — breathtaking. Eventually, the foxes ran off, as did the chipmunks.
No squirrels were killed on this day or any other thereafter. I became increasingly uncomfortable with hunting, especially killing animals for no other reason than that I could. I no longer had the bloodlust necessary to kill wild animals. Photography became my new weapon of choice, “shooting” animals without killing them.
Bruce Gerencser, 68, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 47 years. He and his wife have six grown children and sixteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
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Hunting ground squirrels ! My favourite past time on my grandparents farm. Did it for years. Then one day (never used my 410 shotgun on “gophers”), everything changed. Instead, I used a twisted pole as a spear. I was about 8 or 9. I remember, that day, throwing it just as the little animal came out of its hole. I
was quite good at killing them. This next one was going to be fun. It was some 10 meters out. I actually hit it. Very proud of myself. Ran to the hole when I began to hear the little creature screaming its head off. That was unusual. The point of the spear was blood soaked. Picked up the spear. I stood there for about 20 seconds listening to the screams. Then those fell silent and for the next 2 minutes, I could hear it whimpering and crying. I backed off totally distraught, listening to it suffer. The creature became quiet. I nearly threw up. I tossed my spear away. Never again ! I felt ill for the rest of the day. I turned down my uncles invitation to go dear hunting with him. He sensed that I had changed. Today, I stop my car to let a squirrel cross the road, to the chagrin of other motorists behind me.
I’ve only hunted once in my life- I went with a friend and his adult son. We went grouse hunting back in 2000-ish in South Central Ohio, on Mead Paper property. I think the nearest town was Beaver, Ohio. His son was a chef in Detroit who prepared wild game. I remember the day- it was a Sunday, cold and sunny. We walked over a bunch of damn hills through endless thorns. Didn’t see anything except way off in the distance. My friend, quite a bit older than me, kept his shotgun slung over his shoulder the entire time. I think for him it was more about waking in the woods and spending time with his son.
I carried a pistol for about 15 years, 5 days a week as a State Parole Officer. To remain proficient, I went to the range quite often to practice. So I have some experience with firearms. Thankfully, I’m no longer employed in the criminal justice field. I know what it’s like to look for someone who doesn’t want to be found, and may have a surprise waiting for you once you do find him. Your pistol is your last line of defense, and may not be enough even if you are a good shot. That emotional roller coaster was enough for me. I have a small personal pistol and a shotgun for an extreme defense/survival situation. That’s it. I have no desire or comfort for anything more. These items remain secured in my closet. I definitely do not subscribe to the “sheepdog/good (MAGA) dude with a gun” hero ethos.
Like my late father, I really have no interest in hunting or guns in general. As I said before, he was relatively conservative (Dear Leader would call him a “RINO” today if he were alive) and deist at most. He was more into work, fishing and drives in the country. He, like myself had some familiarity with firearms from his time in the US Air Force. And like myself, would “hunt” if it was required to survive. No judgement from me on that one. For some rural families, hunting deer and rabbit is cheap meat/protein. I have no issue as long as it is done legally and ethically (or as ethically as killing an animal for food can be, anyway). I personally despise trophy hunting and think it should be either banned or at the least very expensive and heavily regulated.
I had a late maternal uncle who was a hunting enthusiast and gun collector. He had his stuffed trophies all through his house. To his credit he was big on gun safety, but he could also be an asshole. I remember once he told me my dad wasn’t doing a good job raising me because he hadn’t taught me anything about guns and hunting. I was all of maybe 11 or 12, and we lived in suburban Cincinnati. He would try to teach me how to shoot guns and compound bows when I would visit him in TN. When I couldn’t do it to his satisfaction he began yelling at me, threatening to beat my ass, etc. That affected my ability to enjoy the outdoors for a long time, and probably turned me off to hunting before I ever began. The State of Ohio turned out to be a much better and more patient firearms instructor than my late uncle.
John, my philosophy about hunting and guns is like yours. I have been in homes where the hunting rifles were propped against living room walls. The first time I saw that, I was shocked but, as someone explained to me, “There’s not a lot of money up this way.”
It’s rather ironic (Does using phrases like that make me bourgie, or what?) that a couple of hours’ (or a day or two of bike riding) away, Whole Foods customers pay more than some of those rural folk make in a week on “organic” game meats that said rural folks shoot.
And, like you, I am not a “gun lover:” I do not own a firearm and have not even handled one since I was an Army reservist four decades ago.
As for hunting, I have a story something like Bruce’s. Two of my uncles, who lived in Brooklyn (before it became “cool”) took hunting trips to the Catskills and Adirondacks every fall. When I was about fifteen, they brought me along. They gave me a ten minute lesson on using a rifle. When the moment came, however , I couldn’t shoot “Bambi.”
Much later, I thought about that and how, a few years later, I was trained to kill human beings. I realized that my training didn’t involve actual human beings as targets and was intended to dehumanize potential “enemies” (who, during the Cold War, were “the Russians”). On the other hand, my “training” with a hunting rifle involved aiming at real deer, foxes and squirrels.
Hey MJ, great post!
I guess I’m “bougie” too, I use “ironic” quite often. I do find it ironic (there I go again! 😄) that folks who buy their organic meat at Whole Foods sometimes seem willfully ignorant of the processes that produce that food. I’m not saying that you have to visit a slaughter house or become a deer Hunter to appreciate the food. Just understand there are unpleasant processes behind just about every privilege we have in this country, like readily available, generally safe and relatively affordable food. Also, understand that not everyone has easy access to organic food, at least at Whole Foods. I’m an Aldi’s fan myself. They seem to be popping up in a lot of places
Love these stories that Bruce shares. Always funny but a reminder of humanity we can gain through different interactions in nature. Please keep sharing more.
My only hunting experience was with a friend using a pellet gun. I didn’t get any, but he shot a chipmunk or squirrel. I felt very empty killing it for mere sport and we quit there. I’m not really against deer hunting or any hunting where you eat the meat, but I don’t think it has any value for pure sport. “Though boys throw stones at frogs in sport, the frogs do not die in sport, but in earnest.”
Bruce I went through the motions of hunting all around your area. I wanted to be my Father who was a skilled fisherman and hunter. That served my parents and sisters well during the depression.
I enjoyed guns but I never enjoyed killing anything. I never experienced the deprivation and hunger of the depression which justified my Father to hunt. He rarely hunted after getting a good Teamster job at Pet Milk. Feeding his family no longer drove him. My lack of motivation to kill made me a terrible shot. I killed a couple trees but very few rabbits and pheasants. I’ve never hunted since I realized I didn’t want to hurt any animals.
We’ve half-moved to a rural area where the deer population is carefully managed, in part by requiring a permit to take one during hunting season. Deer tags are parceled out by lottery to applicants. Husband has received a tag on an average of every 5 years or so. He spends weekends, the two months before the season starts, hiking the local national forest area, studying the land, looking for likely places to plant himself to catch a passing buck.
Result: deer kills 0, Husband fitness improved, Husband’s connection to this interesting area deepened. I call that three wins and no losses.
My favorite story happened during his last round of exploration hiking. As he was making his way down a trail through thick brush, a black bear came across the trail. They startled each other, and both ran like hell in orthogonal directions.