Book review: 'The Mindful Carnivore: A Vegetarian's Hunt for Sustenance'

I know a lot of what Tovar Cerulli has dubbed "adult-onset hunters." Northern California is full of people who are looking to divest themselves of everything that is wrong with the industrial food complex, and while some go vegetarian and others go local, there's a third group that's turning to hunting.

That said, I don't think any of our stories holds a candle to Tovar's tale, which we've been reading in bits and pieces on his blog for the past two years, and which we now see in its entirety in his new book, "The Mindful Carnivore: A Vegetarian's Hunt for Sustenance."

Taking up hunting when you didn't grow up doing it is a leap for anyone, but Tovar has leaped the furthest of all, going from veganism to hunting, a few small bites at a time.

One important note: If you're a frequent reader of Tovar's blog, don't skip this book thinking you've read it all. "The Mindful Carnivore" is not a retread of blog posts; it is an eloquent and sometimes suspenseful account of his quest to become a mindful eater.

Tovar's tale begins in the purest of places: a childhood in which he feasts without qualms on the world around him, whether it's berries he picks, frogs he catches by hand or trout he catches with hooks. The older he gets, though, the more doubt and conscience creep in. He stops fishing. He stops eating meat. And in the ultimate attempt to feed himself without doing harm to fellow sentient creatures, he goes vegan. Read more...
Even in veganism, though, he finds there is no way to eliminate harm to animals. Soybean farmers shoot deer in droves to save their crops. The local organic farmer from whom he buys produce is constantly smoke-bombing woodchuck burrows. And even Tovar finds himself crushing beetles that prey on his vegetable garden.

When health concerns prompt Tovar and his wife Cath to reintroduce some animal products to their diet, they start slowly: local, organic yogurt; eggs from cage-free hens. He is rewarded with energy, vitality and a diminishment of allergies. He could have stopped there, but he brings fish and chicken back into his life. Finally, he begins contemplating what was heretofore unimaginable: hunting.

Tovar's transformation is not one of those mind-boggling 180s, like going from atheism to Catholicism in a week. He never loses the immense compassion and respect for animals that drove him to veganism in the first place. This means his process of becoming a hunter is filled with fear and uncertainty. Fear that he'll shoot poorly and maim an animal, becoming the kind of hunter he'd always loathed. Uncertainty about whether what he's doing is the right thing.

Reading Tovar's book, I'm pretty sure Tovar and I are very different kinds of hunters.

I do share his fear of merely maiming animals with poor shots, and his belief that hunting is a kinder way to acquire meat than industrial farming. But I find it easier to accept some of hunting's downsides, particularly the wounding rate (as opposed to clean kills and clean misses) with bird hunting.

I'm also quite unabashed about the joy that hunting brings to me. While I take animal deaths seriously - I often apologize to, and thank, the animals I kill - that doesn't stop me from shouting with excitement when I am successful. And I freely admit that hunting tickles my synapses in a way that is utterly addictive.

Tovar's experience, on the other hand, will be unrecognizable to many hunters because there is, for him, no joy in the successful hunt - only the feeling that he is approaching his need for protein in the most honest and responsible way he can.

Reflecting on his first deer kill, Tovar writes, "Hunting ... would not put me on a new high road to moral certainty. If this first experience of killing a deer was any indication, it would bring me face-to-face with ambiguity every time. Perhaps that was how it ought to be."

I believe that's a message that will resonate with both vegetarians and non-hunting omnivores who are uneasy with the ways in which industrial farming has trivialized the lives and deaths of the animals we eat and use. Even if they don't choose to follow the path Tovar has taken, I think they'll be inclined to respect it.

It's also a message that unabashed hunting fiends like myself would do well to remember if we'd like to earn the same kind of respect.

POSTSCRIPT: If you'd like to read other reviews of "The Mindful Carnivore," click here.

© Holly A. Heyser 2012

Coming up in 2012: A cool new book about hunting

At the risk of appearing cruel, I've got a great new book I want to tell you about. What's cruel about it? The book doesn't come out until June. The good news is you can pre-order it.

"Call of the Mild: Learning to Hunt My Own Dinner" (Grand Central Publishing) is Lily Raff McCaulou's tale of moving from New York City to Bend, Oregon, to take a job as a newspaper reporter.

There are two things she discovers very quickly in Bend: One is her husband-to-be, Scott, and the other is that hunting isn't at all what she had always thought it was, having grown up in an uber-liberal suburb of Washington, D.C.

Scott introduces Lily to fly fishing, and Lily decides on her own that she'd also like to try hunting, which Scott doesn't do. So without a specific mentor to inspire and guide her, she goes for it.

Wow - totally intrepid. I love her already.

This book is an important read for many segments of the hunting community for many reasons, the first being the most obvious:

Every hunter I know loves the vicarious thrill of reliving his or her own learning experiences through the tales of another new hunter. When that hunter is an articulate adult, so much the better.

I've also met about a dozen new huntresses this year who I'm pretty sure will relate to this tale as well, because they're still in the thick of learning this strange new world.

It's not just the vicarious thrill that's important here, though: Lily's tale demonstrates just how hard it is to break into hunting when you don't know a soul who hunts.

Some of this difficulty is inevitable: We all have to go through learning how to shoot straight, learning when to shoot, trying out gear, and learning how to process game.

But some of the difficulty could be avoided if state wildlife agencies, non-profits and even gun stores recognized that not all new hunters were raised in hunting families, that they really do need everything spelled out explicitly - and patiently.

For example, Lily goes to three gun shops before she finds someone who respects her wishes (she wants to shoot a 20 gauge), patiently explains things like how to shoulder a gun, and recommends a place to practice shooting and find mentors.

And because she decided to start hunting after the one and only adult hunter ed class that year has been held, she ends up in a children's course. Really? One adult class per year?

Another audience that needs to read this book is politically conservative hunters, even though they'll chafe at some of what Lily has to say. (I don't know if she would call herself a liberal, but she's clear that her upbringing was, and she reminds me of a lot of new hunters I've met who come from similar backgrounds.)

Why should they read this? In general, I believe it's important to understand the thought processes of people you disagree with, but more importantly, we need to understand that there are plenty of people from liberal backgrounds who can embrace guns and hunting if we'd just stop berating their politics long enough to let them in.

Really. It's OK. We don't all have to belch "Barack" to be hunters.

Finally, hunting organizations need to hear what Lily has to say.

She quickly becomes an advocate for hunting, and being a journalist, she really knows how to do the research to back up her opinions. But she also holds up a mirror to some hunter-based organizations. She really wanted to join some, but found so many of their messages to be off-putting, particularly those geared toward trophy measurement and record-keeping.

I think all hunters who are active in these organizations know that funding conservation is an important, if not the most important, thing that most of them do. But it sure doesn't look that way to Lily, and if that's the message she's getting from these organizations, you can bet non-hunters don't see them in any better light. I know it's not just Lily who feels this way: I work with a lot of new hunters, and they ask the exact same kinds of questions she does.

Now, I may have just made this book sound like broccoli - something you should read, not necessarily something you want to read - but I promise you it's not. The reason I'm reviewing this book is that when Hank passed it to me (he got an early copy for review), I devoured it in two evenings. And unlike some books I've read, this one didn't make me swear even once - even though I don't agree with all of her positions on hunting issues.

Lily is curious, intrepid, smart and articulate. She's a fantastic addition to the hunting community, and I think you'll enjoy her story as much as I have.

© Holly A. Heyser 2011

Good reading: 'Some We Love, Some We Hate, Some We Eat: Why It's So Hard to Think Straight About Animals'

When I read books about the relationship between humans and other animals, I'm looking for several things: Insights that help me understand my thoughts, emotions and actions; ammunition for my rhetorical battles with anti-hunters; and, believe it or not, facts or ideas that challenge my thinking and assumptions.

I got all three with the new book, Some We Love, Some We Hate, Some We Eat: Why It's So Hard to Think Straight About Animals by anthrozoologist Hal Herzog.

When someone from TLC Book Tours asked me last month if I'd like a copy of the book for review, it took me about two seconds to say, "Yes, please!" From the title alone, I could see it'd be right up my alley.

Once it arrived, I tore through it, and I loved it. Mostly.

The big take-away from this book is that we humans are wildly inconsistent and hypocritical in our attitudes toward, and treatment of, animals. Moreover, the more we try to be moral purists in our regard for animals, the harder it is for us to behave consistently toward them.

I suspect many vegans can relate to that, because it's just hard to live in a way that doesn't use animals at all. I found I could relate to it as well: Hunting has taken me on a journey that has soured my view of agriculture because of how it manipulates nature - both animals and plants - but I find it pretty much impossible to escape ag and live up to my own ideal.

This book has lots of other intriguing ideas and facts that, combined with Herzog's conversational writing style, make this a good read. Here's one of my favorites:

We have some really wacky inconsistencies arising from our use of animals in research, which Herzog illustrates with the distinction between "good mice" and "bad mice" in a lab at the University of Tennessee.

The use of mice in a research projects at the lab is allowed only after a committee weighs the potential benefits of the research against the harm that will be inflicted on the mice. Once a project is approved, there are strict guidelines for the treatment of mice. Those are the good mice.

Then there the bad mice: the vermin running loose, threatening the hyper-clean conditions of the lab. The people running the lab can do anything they want to eradicate these mice, and the method they use is sticky traps. Here's what Herzog says about them:

Sticky traps are rodent flypaper. Each trap consists of a sheet of cardboard about a foot square, covered with a tenacious adhesive and embedded with a chemical mouse attractant - hence their other name, glue boards. In the evening, animal care technicians would place glue boards in areas where pest mice traveled, and check them the next morning. When a mouse stepped on a sticky trap, it would become profoundly stuck. As it struggled, the animal's fur would become increasingly mired in glue. Though the traps did not contain toxins, about half of the animals were dead when the were found the next day...

Animals caught in sticky traps suffer a horrible death. I doubt that any animal care committee would approve an experiment in which a researcher requested permission to glue mice to cardboard and leave them overnight. Thus a procedure that was clearly unacceptable for a mouse labeled "subject" was permitted for a mouse labeled "pest."

Here's the kicker: The "bad" mice were not wild animals; they were escaped "good" mice.

Bonus points to Herzog for admitting to the same hypocrisy in his own home. When his son's pet mouse died, the family held a respectful funeral for the little rodent and buried him in the garden with a slate headstone. A couple days later when Herzog's wife discovered mouse poop in the kitchen, "She looked at me and said, 'Kill it,'" he wrote. He did, with a snap trap, and he tossed its corpse under a bush not far from the pet mouse's grave site.

One recurring theme in the book - what struck me as the biggest consistency in how we treat animals - is that we give the most respect and courtesy to the animals that are considered family (i.e., pets), and the least to animals that are generally out of our sight (i.e., farm animals).

Personally, I think we treat humans the same way. I'm not gonna lie: The plight of a human in my family or my community means way more to me than the plight of a human halfway across the country, or on the other side of the world.

This certainly explains how I can be a devoted slave to my cat Giblet at one moment, then head out to slaughter wild animals that are pretty close to her in size, and even charm, the next. Giblet is family; ducks are not.

It also explains why I might never raise animals for meat, despite the fact that I grew up in a household that did so: I'm not sure I could keep an animal in my care (making it like family), then slit its throat.

It's totally irrational, and totally human, that I feel that way.

Or wait, maybe it's not just human. Check this out:

Herzog wrote about some research aimed at determining whether mice would react to pain being inflicted on other mice. What kind of pain? Oh, injecting mild acid in their stomachs, injecting irritants into their paws and heating the surface mice were standing on until they lifted their paws to get away from it.

The results? Yes, mice who were subjected to these little tortures writhed more when they were in the presence of other mice being tortured than they did when they were being tortured in isolation ... but only if the fellow torture victims were relatives or cage-mates.

But wait, there's more! Pain was contagious only to mice who could see their relatives or cage-mates suffering. Merely smelling or hearing those fellow suffering mice did not affect them. Out of sight, out of mind.

This book is full of lots of fascinating stuff like this, and it covers way more than animal research: Herzog delves into pets, agriculture, cockfighting and animal rights/animal advocacy.

But I was really disappointed with one aspect of the book: Herzog didn't address hunting in any substantial way, despite the fact that hunters often express the baffling sentiment that we love the animals we hunt - not just that we love to hunt them and eat them, but that we revere and respect them. While I've given this paradox a great deal of thought on my own, I was really hoping to learn more from a researcher.

Moreover, I got the strong sense that Herzog doesn't particularly understand hunters or hunting. For example, in his chapter on cockfighting - which he studied at great length - he says this:

If cockfighters were sadistic perverts, it would be easy to explain their involvement in a cruel bloodsport. But given that most are not, how can they participate in an activity that is illegal and that nearly everyone in America thinks is immoral? The answer is that they construct a moral framework based on a mix of wishful thinking and logic in which cockfighting becomes completely acceptable. In this regard they are no different from any other person who exploits animals - hunters, circus animal trainers, even scientists and meat-eaters.

I don't object to his conclusion about the moral framework we construct. I accept that we do that. For some people, killing animals is justified by God giving mankind dominion over animals. I don't personally buy that; I justify my hunting by the fact that hunting is a fact of life in nature. Other people don't buy that either. And I know a vegan who eats oysters, despite the fact that they are living beings, because someone gave her an article in which someone said it was OK for vegans to eat them.

I don't object to the term "exploit" either, because I take it at its literal definition (to use), not with its emotional connotation (to abuse).

What bugs me is that he lumped hunters in with circus animal trainers, while he put scientists and meat eaters in a higher class. Yes, I'm really parsing words here, but I don't think I'm wrong. Hunters are meat eaters who go out and get their own, but I'm not sure he groks that.

If Herzog has spent any time researching hunters personally, it's not apparent in this book. I think every mention of hunters references someone else's research.

And funny thing? Because he spent a lot of time with cockfighters and got to know how they pamper their birds, he acknowledges that cockfighting produces far less suffering than producing broiler chickens. Yet, while he doesn't advocate the end of broiler chicken production, he does advocate the end of cockfighting. "It is time for rooster fighters to close down the pits and swap their gaffs for golf clubs and bass boats," he writes.

Bass boats? Those instruments of contest-driven, high-speed torture-and-release fishing? Really?

I guess Herzog suffers from the same moral inconsistencies as the rest of us.

Now, I don't think any of this should dissuade you from buying this book. If you're interested in how humans relate to and interact with animals, you'll learn a lot. And you'll probably think more carefully about your own views. Just don't expect to learn much about hunters.

© Holly A. Heyser 2011

My hunting: Jilted for a summer fling with photography

This has been an odd summer: I haven't gone hunting even once since turkey season, despite the perpetual open season on pigs, pigeons and jack rabbits.

Instead, I'm traveling around with Hank on his "Hunt, Gather, Cook" book tour.

It's a pretty unusual tour: Rather than sitting around doing a lot of old-fashioned readings at book stores, Hank has organized a series of dinners at restaurants all over the country - meals prepared by like-minded chefs, with wild-food menus inspired by Hank's book. The latest was with Chef (and duck-hunting buddy) Sheamus Feeley - shown here with Hank - at Farmstead in Napa.

We would, of course, be happy to go hunting as part of this tour, but it's summer, so most of the side activities have involved foraging. The hunting will start this fall. When I'm teaching, and not able to join Hank - wah!

But I've taken advantage of our unusual summer by using it as an opportunity to work on my photography, and in the process, document all of Hank's book tour adventures. It's been a great stretch for my brain, forcing me to grapple with the challenges of action photography and difficult lighting, breaking out of my easy and highly controlled routine of photographing plates of food for Hank's blog.

To check out the food and people at the restaurant events, click here. There's a separate photo set for each restaurant, and there's an option for viewing each set as a slideshow, which is how I prefer to view the photos. (There are controls for the slideshow in the upper right-hand corner - if the photos look blurry, just uncheck the "embiggen" option.)

Then there's the nature photography. Hank and I went out foraging Friday with Dan Klein and Mirra Fine of Perennial Plate, and I went a little wild with the macro lens:



My favorite photos are the ones of the ants, particularly the one that got all weird and arty for reasons I can't quite comprehend. You can click on the images below to see them full-sized.



Of course, I'm still hoping to go hunting this summer. I haven't gotten a pig in several years now, and it's about time.

But in all honesty, I'm enjoying the change of pace. Sometimes it's good just to roll with what life hands you.

© Holly A. Heyser 2011

When a hunter thinks like a vegan - Part II

It's been nearly a month since I wrote my incredibly depressed post about the hopelessness of mankind, and I've started to reach some helpful conclusions since then.

In case you missed that post, here's the short version: My admiration of hunter-gatherers for their balanced relationship with nature had been decimated by my realization that even when we were all hunter-gatherers, we as a species were constantly seeking more, more, more. The role model I had discovered when I started hunting was, it turns out, just an early version of our modern raping-and-pillaging selves.

Having been thinking like that for quite some time, I found myself desperate to get back on an even keel, because depressed self-loathing is ... well ... depressing.

One of the things that's been helpful is a book I bought a long time ago, but hadn't read yet: Adventures Among Ants.

I'd hoped to finish the whole book and review it here, but quite honestly, there are some days when the author loses me, so I'm not done yet. Reading it is like having a conversation with an incredibly nerdy scientist - he alternates between being really engaging with his passion for the topic and being so detailed that I lose interest.

Nonetheless, I have picked up some fascinating insights. For example: Marauder ants will kill other species of ants that dare to get in their way, but they will not eat them. Instead, they set the other ants' carcasses aside and cover them with dirt.

Sounds remarkably like a burial, doesn't it?

Another thing I know is in this book, though I haven't gotten to it yet, is that leaf cutter ants are farmers that have created monocultures, and they're starting to have problems, such as disease, associated with monocultures. This, of course, sounds a lot like a problem human farmers have.

See where I'm going with this?

I don't necessarily believe that ants are on a parallel course with humans. It seems clear to me that we have screwed up the planet far more than ants ever will, though I acknowledge that may be a function of my unavoidably human perspective.

Even so, reading this book has been a helpful reminder to me that we are not alone on this planet in terms of having organized societies and the problems (and quirks) that go with them.

And that notion got me thinking the other day: One of the things we talked about in the comment thread of that first post was the notion that perhaps we're doing what we're supposed to do - that our trajectory as a species that battles with nature, to nature's detriment, is inevitable.

I reluctantly believe that it is. But here's the thing: I've come to believe that any other animal species would do the same if it had the same staggering brainpower that humans have, relative to other species.

Think about it. Is there a single animal on earth that will not jump at the chance to exploit a resource to the fullest extent?

Example One: Hank loves to tell the story of a whitetail doe he killed in Wyoming. She was the fattest deer he'd ever seen, because she had found a farmer's alfalfa field and just plopped down in that field day after day, stuffing herself. (The farmer, by the way, was grateful that Hank put that to an end, and Hank was grateful to make a venison sausage that required no additional fat.)

Example Two: Our cat Harlequin loves hunting, but she can't resist the bowl of easy food that awaits her in our house - she'll eat everything we put out for her.

Example Three: A couple years ago I went pheasant hunting on a sheep farm and I was appalled at the destruction coyotes had wrought. A lot of sheep were giving birth to lambs at the time, and we came across a heart-rending sight: one day-old lamb draped across another, stashed away in the cattails. The farther we went on our hunt, the more carcasses of all sizes we found. Judging by how many were still encased in their own skin and wool, it was obvious the 'yotes weren't even hungry - they just couldn't resist the easy kill.

It is a basic fact of life that each and every one of us survives by taking advantage of resources around us, and the better we are at doing that, the more we will do it - even if it's unnecessary or even detrimental to ourselves.

Normally, nature's system of checks and balances does a pretty good job of limiting this behavior: Exhaust your food resource? You starve to death. Eat too much? You become a desirable food source for someone else.

The fact that other animals haven't exploited the earth as ruthlessly and selfishly as we have isn't a function of any sort of nobility or wisdom; it's a function of not having the brainpower to thwart nature's checks and balances as successfully as we have (so far).

Strangely, this line of thinking is starting to make me feel better. Why? It's partly because while our path as a species is destructive, it's actually entirely consistent with the biological mandate of every living thing on earth: Exploit your environment to the fullest extent, grow strong, and multiply. Or, die out and become nothing more than a fossilized memory.

It's also partly because of the last comment I got on the original post on this topic, which came from someone named Jessica:

I guess the only consolation I have is, at least you care. At least you feel the tension between who we are and what we've become. So what's underneath all our civilization - what is the real, true truth about us? That we're not meant to live out of harmony with nature?

If that's true, then every time you do something for the natural world, you're committing an act of beauty. And while it might not stop our human trajectory, it's still, well, beautiful. Maybe because it's so hopeful, and so selfless.

So you probably do beautiful things all the time, and encourage other people to think about who we really are as humans. And that's a good thing, right?

Jessica's words echoed some of the points made by other commenters on that post, but it came at a point in my thinking when it was exactly what I needed to hear.

Maybe her point is, in fact, the case. If it is, then there are a lot of us out committing such acts any way we can, from the vegans who want to minimize harm caused to other animals on their behalf, to the environmentalists who donate their time and money to fight environmental devastation, to the hunters who participate in a system that supports habitat for animals while providing an amazing alternative to factory-farmed meat.

These things may not change the outcome of humanity's impact on the earth and its inhabitants, but there is, at least, some nobility in the effort. It's certainly more than our biological mandate requires. Perhaps any species with comparable brainpower would do the same.

© Holly A. Heyser 2011

ALONE: My harrowing real-life survival story

One of the reasons I love hunting is the sense it gives me that if everything went to hell - I'm talking a massive collapse of civilization - I might actually be able to survive.

What I didn't realize until recently, though, is that survival situations can come in many forms.

Then, on May 15, Hank headed out for the first leg of his "Hunt, Gather, Cook" book tour, and my real-life survival story began.

What happened, you ask? I'll tell you: This guy's been cooking for me pretty much every day for the better part of the last four years. He has completely domesticated me, and that, my friends, has left me virtually unable to feed myself. (Yes, you read that correctly. It's all his fault.)

I moped for a while after he left. Nature rewarded me with a massive thunderstorm, complete with hail - a fitting soundtrack to my self-pity.

Then the skies cleared, my stomach growled and I asked the question: What next?

Step one: Assess your food supply.

I opened the door of the refrigerator and found it was almost empty, except for beer, a half-drunk bottle of wine and condiments (which, in our case, means stuff like small vats of duck fat and jars of strange green things oddly mislabeled "cranberries").

But wait, what was this cardboard box?

Oh yeah! Hank had taught a sausage-making class in Sausalito the day before he left, and we'd come home with leftovers. Awesome. I love sausage.

I opened the box, and discovered, to my horror, that they were not cooked sausages. Oh no. How the hell do you cook these things?

Momentarily stumped, I decided to go over the photos I'd taken the day before to see if there were any clues.


Cracking dirty jokes about sausage making? No, that won't work.


Expounding? No, no, no - that doesn't generate enough heat.

Then, I saw it:


There it is, in the background: a frying pan.

That sight was enough to jog my memory - I distinctly recalled Hank telling the sausage students, "Slow and low - you can never cook sausage for too long."

So, I broke out a frying pan, turned the heat down really low, then dropped a link in there, and I'll be damned if 45 minutes later I didn't have a totally delicious, perfectly cooked sausage.

That knowledge - and that cache of links - kept me going for a good three days. I even took the extra step of browning rice in the fat that remained in the pan before tossing it in the rice cooker. I was delighted with my ingenuity.

Step two: Forage for foods you know are safe.

I may not know how to cook, but I do know how to drive, so I got my butt to Costco and looked for survival food, and there it was: peanut butter! Organic, creamy, Kirkland-brand peanut butter. In a two-pack, no less!

In the cart it went, and voila! All I had to do with this stuff was stir, then dip a big fat spoon into the jar. Healthy, nutrient-dense - ahhhhhhh. That got me through the next several days' lunchtimes.

Step three: OK, go find some real food.

Peanut butter gets old fast, so I started longing for one of the staples of our kitchen: roasted duck.

I remembered roasting ducks. Yes, I've actually done it! I even have a recipe on this site. It's so easy: Brown it in a cast-iron pan, roast it until the breast meat hits 135 degrees, remove from oven and cover with foil for five minutes, then EAT.


First, I had to find a duck. Given that it was May, I knew I couldn't legally go out to kill one, so where's the next best place?

The freezer!

I trooped out to the garage and dug through a baffling array of frozen meats. Gizzards. Livers. Unidentified sausages. Goose breasts - closer! Then, I saw it: A grocery bag full of frozen ducks.

Bufflehead? Oh, heavens no. I mean, I shot it, but Hank says buffleheads can taste fishy. I'll leave that one for him.

"Gadwall with stinky butt?" Ooooooh, yeah, I remembered that one. Very stinky duck. Also beyond my skill level. Good thing Hank labeled it.

Then I found it: "fat gadwall." This I could do.

I defrosted the duck, browned it, and popped it in the oven. After 10 or 12 minutes, I went to check it with a meat thermometer and

OHMYGODthemeatthermometerwasmissing!

I texted Hank. WTF, did you take the meat thermometer with you?

He texted back. Yes. Deal.

A meat thermometer. On book tour. What, was he cooking the books?

So I guessed and took it out then. After I let the bird rest, I sliced into it and saw it had come out a bit rare. No, a lot rare. Gadwall sushi, anyone? But I just popped it back in the oven for a few more minutes, and it was fine.

The next day I bought a cheap meat thermometer at the supermarket. Then I ate duck every day for the next six days - roasted one day, leftovers the next.

But that wasn't all I ate. I had rice too. Browned in duck fat first, of course.

Step four: Mastering the kitchen.

After eating all those ducks, I now had quite a collection of duck carcasses. I saved them in part because I was raised by parents who grew up in the Great Depression, which made me loathe to throw away food. But there was something else.

A smell.

The smell of the house during duck season. Warm, almost spicy.

That's it! When Hank broke down ducks during duck season, he always roasted the bones and then made broth with them. Mmmmmm. Broth. Delicious by itself, or you could use it to jazz up other cooking.

How does one make broth, though? I had a vague impression: roasted bones, water, onion, celery, carrots. I'd tried it once before, sans recipe, and it hadn't come out well. So I asked myself: What would Hank do?

What would Hank do? Holy cow, he writes a food blog! He's probably blogged about EXACTLY how to make broth.

I ran to my computer and hit a few links on his site, and there it was: Dark Duck Broth. I printed it out. Gasped when a second sheet of paper came out of the printer. Two pages??? Then ran back to the kitchen.

First, I had to forage for ingredients. Onion? Check. Garlic? Check. Fennel? No thanks. Celery? Rubbery, but check. Rosemary? All over the front yard. Red wine vinegar? Check. Red wine? Check. Tomato paste? Check.

I popped all my bones in the roasting pan, then into the oven, and started assembling and prepping the other ingredients. When I got to the can of tomato paste, I dug for the can opener, then tried to attach it to the can properly. Then fumbled. Repeatedly.

Wow. I had actually forgotten how to use our can opener.

I'm choosing to spin that in a good way - we just don't have many canned goods in the house. I usually have to make special purchases to donate to canned food drives during the holidays.

After several tries, I figured it out. Yes, just like I figured out how to cook sausage, buy peanut butter and find ducks in the freezer. I was getting the hang of this survival stuff.

Next, I needed a tablespoon of peppercorns. I opened the spice cupboard, which is so full of bags and jars and tins of whole spices that they all threaten to fall out every time you open the door. But not one of these containers had peppercorns.

Time to text Hank. Are we out of peppercorns?

Hank: They should be in the cupboard.

Me: They're not.

Hank: Adapt and overcome.

Oh I HATE it when he says that.

I picked up the pepper grinder and gave it a crank and it became clear that was empty too.

Do you see why Hank's not in charge of buying toilet paper? Sheesh.

Oh well, screw pepper. I kept going, tending to the burbling broth pot all night, through a phone call with a student, a phone call with my mother and at least one episode of the Real Housewives of New Jersey. When I was ready for bed, I removed the bones and veggies, poured the broth through a strainer lined with cheesecloth, and gave it a taste.

Hot damn, it was good!

I felt accomplished. I'd gone from recoiling at the sight of uncooked sausages to making my own broth from scratch, despite tragic obstacles like the absence of pepper. And now I had a bunch of broth to cook with!

I'm gonna make some damn fine rice with that.

© Holly A. Heyser 2011

Tweetweek: A predictable bear editorial, a credit card company that hates hero shots, and NYT love

Not a slave to Twitter? No problem - here's my Tweetweek in Review:

L.A. Times on bears: I'm sure it will come as a shock to everyone that the L.A. Times just posted an editorial that takes the HSUS position on black bear hunting hook, line and sinker.

This is to say that the venerable Times thinks our Fish & Game Commission needs to back off a proposal to raise the statewide bear cap next week from 1,700 to 2,000. Instead, the Times says, it should take time to study regional bear populations to see if there are any variations that should be taken into consideration.

Granted, we do apply some special limitations in some regions on deer hunting so it's not like the idea is inherently freakish. It's just that ... hmmmm ... the HSUS's biologist suggested taking that route but for some reason didn't mention that there is really any hint at all that there are any regional bear population problems.

Given HSUS's propensity for, and considerable skill at, exploiting any advantage it can get, I'd think HSUS would've mentioned it if there's a sensitive population that warrants extra consideration. Funny, eh?

Then at the end of the editorial, the LAT recommends banning hunting bears with hounds because animal rights activists think it's unsportsmanlike.

Naturally, I tried leaving a comment on the LAT site, but of course, the comment feature doesn't seem to be working this evening. I hit "post" and nothing happens. No spinning wheels, nothing. So, L.A. Times, here's my comment, and I hope I don't see 17 copies of it on your site tomorrow:

"(T)he bigger question is how bear populations are faring region by region in the state."

Bigger question, indeed! Is there a region where we have some hint that bears, as a species, are in trouble? Do you really believe that if there is such a region, the HSUS, with its vast resources, hasn't heard about it? I looked for, but did not find, hint of it here.

"Animal welfare advocates have argued for years that this is unsportsmanlike."

Tell me, what do "animal welfare advocates" consider sportsmanlike? Could it be that they use the term to sound reasonable, when in fact, they not only oppose all hunting, but all consumption of animal flesh? I don't hunt with hounds, but nor do I look to people who oppose hunting for guidance on hunting sportsmanship.

Two fun facts before I close:

1) Hank and I are eating bear tonight - and this was planned well before we saw the editorial - but I think I'll have seconds now, just because.

2) I will give the LA Times credit: Last time they covered this topic (which I wrote about here), it was with an incredibly biased "news" story. This time, at least, the opinion is showing up in the proper section - the opinion section. That's where newspapers are supposed to take positions. It just so happens that I don't think this position was well-reasoned.

Speaking of HSUS: Gwyn Zetah-Meitin used to be a member of the HSUS, and she loathed hunting. The night she met Patrick Meitin, she made it clear she hated hunters.

"She listed the usual indictments against slobs who spotlight and kill animals out of season, are interested in antlers only as collection pieces, shoot roadside signs and toss beer cans from vehicle windows," Meitin writes.

"I smiled and offered my stock reply. 'We're in agreement then,' I said, pausing for her look of confusion. 'I hate them too. But of course, you're not talking about hunters. You're talking about jerks who happen to own firearms.'"

You can already figure out one part of the story by the way the woman's last name closely resembles his now. You can figure out another part when you see the title of the piece: "My Wife, The Bowhunter."

It's a long piece (said the pot, calling the kettle black), but well worth the read as it culminates in her first - you got it! - black bear kill. What she says about that kill at the end is something pretty much every hunter will be familiar with, but something the folks at, say, the L.A. Times would do well to read.

I really wanted to leave a congratulatory comment on the story, but the Petersen's doesn't seem to have a comment function at all. Hopefully the folks there will see my praise for the story here.

Why I'm glad I don't use my Capital One card anymore: Capital One loves to tout the fact that cardholders can design their own card, but when New Jersey cardholder Lou Hinger tried to upload a photo of her husband posing with a deer he'd killed, CapOne said it was "unacceptable."

The problem? “Sorry, we were unable to approve the image you submitted. We will not approve any images that contain the following: Violence, hatred, or cruelty to humans or animals, profanity obscenities or any type of death imagery.”

So, hey, farmers, don't you dare upload pictures of the cows you plan to slaughter. And foodies, whatever you do, DO NOT UPLOAD PHOTOS OF JUICY STEAKS! You sick, animal-hating bastards.

You can read the whole story at NRAhuntersrights.org, but - spoiler alert! - the good news at the end is that if you have an NRA card, you can customize it with your hero shots.

Shameless self-promotion: Hank's upcoming book, Hunt, Gather, Cook: Finding the Forgotten Feast, got a glowing mention in the New York Times last week.

I love the New York Times. The newspaper has shown incredible openness to hunting, and appears to get the fact that a lot of people hunt for a lot of good reasons.

The book comes out May 24, but you can pre-order it here.

Hint, hint.

Gratuitously funny video ending: I don't have time to cruise YouTube, but my students always turn me on to the best stuff. Like a baby penguin being tickled:



Have a good weekend, everyone!

© Holly A. Heyser 2011

Wayne Pacelle's new book, Part 2

Yesterday I blogged about how I actually like the title of HSUS head Wayne Pacelle's new book, "The Bond: Our Kinship with Animals, Our Call to Defend Them."

That was a very, very serious post about the "kinship" part of the title. Today, however, I'd like to tell you something funny about the "bond" part of that title.

On the book's Amazon page, there's a video in which Pacelle tells viewers, "I've always had a bond with animals."

On its face, there's nothing funny about that. I would never denigrate anyone's bond with animals (except for those freaks who like to diddle animals, but that's another story).

What's funny about it is that in Ted Kerasote's 1993 book Bloodties: Nature, Culture, and the Hunt, Wayne Pacelle is quoted as saying the following:

"I don't have a hands-on fondness for animals. I didn't grow up with dozens of dogs and cats as many people did. To this day, I don't feel bonded to any particular non-human animal. I like them and I pet them and I'm kind to them, but there's no special bond between me and other animals."

Now, 1993 was a long time ago, and I know people can change. Hell, my views about animals have shifted radically over the past five years. But the word "always" has a pretty clear meaning. I'll be interested to learn more about that.

And for the record, I did not make this connection myself - that quote popped up in an Amazon forum I stumbled on when I was looking for the book - so I deserve no credit for connecting the dots. Just for sharing a good laugh.

© Holly A. Heyser 2011

Something I have in common with Wayne Pacelle

I came across news the other day that HSUS head Wayne Pacelle has a book coming out next month, and I was struck - oddly enough - by how much I liked the title: The Bond: Our Kinship with Animals, Our Call to Defend Them.

Don't worry, folks - I'm not giving up the gun or anything. Stick with me here.

The part of the title I like is "our kinship with animals," because it is hunting that has made me realize how closely related we are. If nothing else, who can watch bucks in rut and not immediately think of ... men? What hunter can watch a hawk dive and come up empty-clawed and not think, "Better luck next time, brother"? What duck hunter can shoot a duck out of the sky, watch its mate circle, if not land, at great peril, and not recognize that for animals as well as for us, the pairing bond can be very strong?

I'm pretty sure that last thought in particular might put me more in the camp of pro-animal rights folks like Pacelle than of hunters. I've often heard from fellow hunters - as I heard from all kinds of people throughout my pre-hunting life - that we're not supposed to anthropomorphize.

But I no longer believe what I'm doing is anthropomorphizing; what I'm doing is recognizing that while there are substantial differences between humans and other animals, there is far more animal in us than we like to admit. We're extremely clever, and we're blessed with opposable thumbs, but we still take an enormous number of actions day after day that are motivated by the same needs and instincts that drive animal behavior.

I started thinking seriously of other animals as kin when I read Woman the Hunter by Mary Zeiss Stange and came across a passage in which she said most hunter-gatherer cultures view birds and mammals as "us."

It was agricultural societies, she wrote, that started drawing sharp distinctions between us and the other animals. That strikes me as a great way to justify controlling animals to ensure that we can eat 100 percent of what we raise, rather than abide by the natural laws that govern and limit hunting success.

Now, since I brought up killing ducks out of mated pairs, I need to answer the question, "How can you do that?" If I believe animals are kin, don't I think they suffer and mourn the way we do?

The answer is no. But I don't think all humans suffer and mourn the way we do. I think our culture in particular raises us with a tremendous and unjustified sense of entitlement - that we are entitled to avoid death, disease, pain and suffering. We feel we have been wronged when these things are visited upon us, and we rail against it, which does little more than prolong our suffering.

This idea first struck me last summer when I read a blog post by Olivia Nalos over at Versus in which she explored the simpler lives people lived in some of the third-world places she has hunted. They "get over things easier than we do," she wrote. "Take death for instance; AIDS is rampant and people die of cholera, malaria, starvation and other harsh diseases. Regardless, they move on with life quickly."

You don't even have to look to third world countries to see this in action. Has anyone else been following how the Japanese have reacted to the earthquake/tsunami/nuclear crisis? It sucks, but they move quickly to address problems, rather than wallow in self-pity. I think you can chalk that up to Buddhism, which teaches that life is suffering, and it's how you react to that suffering that determines how much it will hurt.

That said, I still believe animals do grieve when they lose offspring or partners to predators of any kind. Ever see or read about a cow elk bawling as her baby is hauled off by predators? (Hell, have you ever seen the Battle at Kruger video where the lions take down a baby buffalo and the whole herd of buffalo come back and kick their asses to save that baby?)

I just believe they move on way faster than we do.

Even so, how can I continue to kill animals if I believe we are kin? This part is simple, and this is where my thinking diverges sharply from the animal rights view: If one observes nature, it is obvious that all of us kin are out there killing and eating each other all the time. It's what we do if we're carnivores or omnivores.

In fact, I think the biggest flaw in pro-animal rights groups' logic is to suggest that we shouldn't engage in that behavior because we're better than those animals. That is a totally patronizing view: The lion kills gazelles because she's too stupid to know how wrong that is, so we'll give her a pass. But us humans? We're so much better that we shouldn't do that.

I'm not buying it. I don't think that me trying to live a life in balance with nature - where I get some of the animals I hunt, rather than getting all of the animals I keep in pens - is immoral. I don't think it's a function of morality at all. It's called eating.

© Holly A. Heyser 2011

Christmas gifts for hunters - aka "Stuff I like"

Because I am very good at spending money, I have acquired a whole new list of holiday gift recommendations this year for the hunter in your life. Or for yourself, because, hey, you deserve it!

ART THAT NON-HUNTERS CAN LOVE: Most hunting photography I see is pretty predictable, which is why I don't have much of it in my house. But the photographer who routinely breaks out of that mold is Delta Waterfowl's Fred Greenslade.

The photo above is the most charming photo I have ever seen of a wood duck pair, and if you click here, you can purchase that photo, check out other photos in his wood duck collection, or browse his whole collection, which is awesome.

I actually ordered this photo and I can tell you the service Fred uses, SmugMug, packaged the photo flawlessly to protect it in transit, and it shipped extremely fast. Between service like that and Fred's talent, you can't go wrong with a purchase like this.

Price range: $7.50-$95, depending on the size of the print.

BRAIN CANDY FOR THE MILITANT OMNIVORE: If you've been here much, you know by now that I really like arguing, particularly in defense of hunting and eating meat.

If your favorite hunter likes arguing too, or just wants to be informed about how our dietary choices can affect our bodies and the planet, you've got to check out Lierre Keith's Vegetarian Myth. Keith is a former vegan who believes that diet wrecked her health, and this book is an extremely critical look at the purported moral, health and environmental benefits of the vegan/vegetarian diet.

This book has really shaped my understanding of the impacts of the modern diet - even as practiced by fellow omnivores - and it's a great read. If this one doesn't float your boat, be sure to check out my other book recommendations on the right side of the page here.

CRAWL ON YOUR HANDS AND KNEES MUCH? If your favorite hunter does, a pair of these neoprene knee pads from Blackhawk might make that a little more comfortable.

Notice I said "might." That's because I haven't purchased these yet. I read about them in Field and Stream a couple months ago in a story about antelope hunting and thought I should get myself a pair so I could be a little more rugged in my deer hunting. Then my deer hunting was kinda DOA, and now it's all ducks all the time.

But duck hunting is why I think these sound good: My waders have neoprene knee pads, and they enable me to drop to my knees quickly and without concern - which can be really nice when you see game and need to duck fast.

Price: $34.

SPEAKING OF WADERS... I would be nuts not to mention that Cabela's Cazadora Women's Waders - which I helped develop along with my friend Sarah a couple years ago - now come in 5mm neoprene, in addition to the 3.5mm neoprene model that came out in 2009.

Still no lightweight breathable versions yet, but one thing at a time.

Why do women need waders designed for them, you ask? Why can't your wife or girlfriend make do with what's out there for men and kids? Simple: Children's waders fit most of us poorly, and men's waders don't have boots that are small enough for most of us.

Unlike other women's hunting clothing, women's waders aren't about getting that perfect fit. They're waders, folks - nothing attractive about 'em. And even these waders have that one-size-fits-all feel that will not be perfect for everyone. (Mine, for example, have, er, too much room in the chest.)

But having a bit too much room in some places sure beats clomping around in boots that are two or three sizes too large for you.

Price: $180.

IS YOUR FAVORITE HUNTER A WOBBLY SHOT? Personally, I am, and I'm probably years away from being able to shoot off-hand.

When I first started hunting big game in 2008, I bought a bi-pod shooting stick and hated it. It wasn't steady enough, and I didn't like the rest for the gun. So this year I bought the Shooters Ridge Tri-Leg Shooting Sticks - basically a fancy version of the stuff they use in Africa - and I love them.

Now, the only hitch is that I haven't actually shot anything using them, because I didn't get a shot at any deer this year, and I have to shoot from a bench at my local shooting range.

But I do use this when I'm practicing in the back yard using the snap caps Albert Rasch made for me, and I've been much happier with how sturdy these are.

They travel compact: Each leg breaks down into three pieces held together by elastic - like tent poles for dome-style tents. When assembled, you adjust the height by simply moving the legs closer together or farther apart - no rings to turn. The top part where your gun rests is rubber coated to resist slipping and scratching.

LOOKING FOR ALL KINDS OF HIGH-QUALITY, MADE-IN-THE-USA WOMEN'S HUNTING AND SHOOTING CLOTHING? Then start your shopping at Prois Hunting Apparel.

Yes, I am biased about Prois - I'm on the Field Staff. But the reason I agreed to be on the Field Staff is because I love the hunting clothing Prois owner Kirstie Pike makes. And Kirstie's pretty awesome too - very genuine and fun.

Some of my favorite items are the technical shirts, both for hunting and shooting. The wicking fabric is super comfortable and excellent for some of the high temperatures we experience here in California's Central Valley. But cruise around the catalog and check out what else Kirstie's got - her collection has expanded a lot since she opened for business in 2008, and she has clothing for all climates.

Prices vary.

HOW DOES YOUR FAVORITE HUNTER'S SHOTGUN FIT? If s/he shoots inconsistently, that might mean his/her shotgun doesn't fit well. I've encountered that problem with every new shotgun I've gotten, because 1) I shoot left-handed, and 2) I have a super long neck and high cheekbones, which might be good for models (not that I'd know), but it's really bad for your gun fit.

I can recommend two solutions, both of which I've tried with great success:

1) GET THAT GUN FITTED. A well-trained stock man, gun-maker or gunsmith can make little adjustments in the length, cast (left-right tilt) and drop (vertical tilt) that help drop your cheek in the same spot on the stock every time, meaning you're going to hit more targets. Period.

My go-to guy is Dale Tate at the Camanche Hills Hunting Preserve in Ione, about an hour out of Sacramento. You can reach him at 209-763-9040. Every fitting comes with a shooting lesson, which means he gets to see how the gun is working for you, and if he sees any problems, he can and will take it apart and make more adjustments if he doesn't think it's just right.

People from all over the country take their guns to Dale. He's that good. (I should also mention he used to work at James Purdey & Sons, back in his native England.)

And he also makes guns, if you happen to have that kind of money. (And you know what they say - if you have to ask how much it costs, then you probably can't afford it.)

The first hunt I went on after getting my Beretta 391 adjusted by Dale, I had my best day of duck hunting ever - four ducks, and I'd never gotten more than two before. The difference was that noticeable, and that fast.

Price: Call for price on fittings - it'll be several hundred dollars (and worth every penny, no matter how much your gun cost, because hitting your target is priceless).

2) GET AN ADJUSTABLE-COMB STOCK, which allows you to make your own drop and cast adjustments. If your gun has a synthetic stock - as does my Beretta 3901 - this solution can work really well for you, because synthetic stocks are a lot harder to fit the traditional way than wood stocks are.

I bought my adjustable-comb stock from Fitaski, which makes stocks for Berettas and Remingtons, and I've been really happy with it. I had my shooting instructor, Harv Holcomb, install it for me, but since then I've been able to make my own adjustments. During skeet season, I had it so I could see a bit more rib on the gun so my barrel wouldn't obscure the clays. During duck season, I've dropped it so I can't see the rib at all.

My biggest concern when I got it was that it would catch on tules out in the field. You don't see adjustable combs out in the duck blinds hardly ever - they're mostly popular with clay shooters. But I had nothing to worry about - that stock hasn't snagged on anything yet this season, and believe me, there have been plenty of chances.

Price: I paid $200 plus shipping for my stock.

Update: I would not buy this stock again - there is a serious flaw in the interior design that results in the stock coming loose frequently. Email me if you want a detailed explanation.

IS YOUR HUNTING HONEY'S GUN SAFE TOO CROWDED? Check out rifle rods from Gun Storage Solutions.

They work simply: You staple a sheet of Velcro to the underside of the top shelf in your safe. You drop one of these big "pins" into the barrel of your gun, set the gun butt-down in the safe, then lift the pin until it connects with the Velcro. Voila! It holds the gun straight up - no need to lean it on other guns.

I've been super happy since I got these earlier this fall. Getting guns into and out of the safe is really easy now. No more swearing!

Price: I paid about $40 for a set of 10 rods.

© Holly A. Heyser 2010

Favorite duck ID book: On life support

One of the most serious casualties of my duck hunt in Sunday's ferocious storm was my very favorite waterfowl identification book: The LeMaster Method.

This spiral-bound 74-page book isn't necessarily the best for learning how to identify birds on the wing - I've found that ability comes from experience: connecting the image of the dead bird in hand with the flying bird in your memory.

But if you drop something truly weird that you've never seen before - as happens almost everywhere at least once in a while - this book is perfect for identifying it.

The first few pages are life-sized images of ducks' bills. You can literally hold your duck over the book and match it up by size and color.

Then there are pages for each type of duck, complete with male and female head close-ups, and images of the birds in flight. And at the end, there's a really fun section on their feet. I guess that's there in case you hit the bird with your full pattern and obliterate all other identifying marks.

The only flaw with this book is that it isn't waterproof.

It got a mild soaking around the edges once last year when I left that flap of my blind bag open in the rain. Duh. I dried it out and ironed the formerly soaked pages.

But this weekend the blind bag was all zipped up and covered, and the rain was so intense that the book still soaked through completely. Seriously, three days later I still have gear that hasn't dried out all the way.

I could totally afford to buy a replacement, but I was raised by parents who grew up in the Depression, so I have weird spending habits. I'll drop a couple hundred bucks without hesitation at Cabela's or Amazon, but I just hate tossing something I already own.

So on Monday morning, after seeing it was salvageable - I could still separate the pages - I inserted butcher paper between each page so they wouldn't stick together. (Waxed paper would've been better, but for some reason, we had none.)

Then, after it was partially dry, I started hanging it from a clothes hanger near a heater vent.

Though the book is still drying, I think it'll be OK. But while the images are clear, the pages are going to be really rumpled. Oh well.

With any luck, they'll dry completely before I go duck hunting again this Sunday, because I hate hunting without this book.

And you bet your ass I'm going to put this thing in a Ziploc bag. If I don't just decide to laminate every page. We'll see.

© Holly A. Heyser 2010

Worth reading: Hunting - Philosophy for Everyone: In Search of the Wild Life

OK, I know hunters are all about sharpening their hunting skills this time of year, but if you're interested in sharpening your thinking skills on the subject of hunting, I've got a great new book for you: Hunting - Philosophy for Everyone: In Search of the Wild Life.

The book, which is part of a "Philosophy for Everyone" series, features thoughtful essays from professional (read "academic") and lay philosophers, both for hunting and against it. It even includes an essay by our own hunting blog-friend Tovar Cerulli from a Mindful Carnivore.

In terms of reading material, it has a lot to offer in bedtime-reading-sized bites (which is why I've had it for weeks and haven't blogged about it until now - been taking my time).

Because it's a collection of essays by different authors, there are definitely high points and low points, though none of the lows should dissuade you from buying this book. Here is a sampling of my reactions:

The foreword: Oh good Lord, I love David Petersen when I'm not busy hating him. He wrote a three-page foreword which went great for about the first half until his sanctimonious side came out, condemning pretty much everyone who doesn't hunt like he does from his little wilderness cabin base.

I mean, I'm not a fan of some of the things he indicts, which include "such ethically bankrupt shortcuts as motorized decoys, electronic game calls, map-friendly GPS units, cell and satellite telephones, night-vision optics, space-age compound arrow-launching devices and cross-guns posing as 'archery equipment,' automatic game 'feeders' (bait stations) that spray out showers of corn at preset times each day so that our 'trophies' are conditioned to appear promptly, say at 8 a.m. and 4 p.m., thus relieving Bubba from the exhausting inconvenience of actually having to hunt."

Wow, glad you stopped to take a breath, there, Petersen. But wait, you left something out: RIFLES. You'd think rifles would be even worse than "space-age compound arrow-launching devices." But for some reason they're OK? Aside from this flaw, I love Petersen's thinking, but good Lord, he is locked into the early 20th Century model of what he calls the "true hunter." Personally, I think the "true hunter" is the hunter who will do whatever he can to put food on the table - I kinda dig the Paleolithic model of hunting myself. But to each his own.

The introduction: I liked this piece by book editor Nathan Kowalsky, because I really related to a choice he faced on a big game hunt. "We were laying in a prone position, and had all the time in the world to get a bead on that buck. It was my shot. I sat there with him in my sights, but I couldn't pull the trigger! Nope, couldn't do it. Not because I didn't want to kill him, but because I wasn't confident I'd kill him well."

Personally, I'll listen to anyone who shares the feeling that it's better not to shoot than to shoot poorly. You don't ever have to take any shot, unless of course it's an angry animal charging you, hungry for your blood.

Chapter 1, Taking a Shot: Hunting in the Crosshairs: This essay might be good, but I honestly can't remember a thing author Jesus Ilundain-Agurruza wrote because he was so in love with seeing how much he could infuse his philosophical examination with gun-and-ammo metaphors. In the end, the essay was like a beautiful woman (maybe) drenched in cheap teen-age cologne: cloying and irritating.

If you teach writing, as I do, or just love good writing, spare yourself the pain of reading this essay. Sorry, Jesus. I know you're not the enemy here, but I have to be honest.

Chapter 3, A Shot in the Dark: The Dubious Prospects of Environmental Hunting: This is an anti-hunting essay that did not challenge me one iota. Nothing new here. Read it if you haven't spent much time considering anti-hunters' viewpoints, but if you have, this will be disappointingly familiar.

Chapter 4, Hunting Like a Vegetarian: Same Ethic, Different Flavors: If you aren't already a regular reader of Tovar Cerulli's blog (and the comment threads, which tend to be, oh, about 20 times longer than his posts), this chapter will make you a fan. This essay takes you through Tovar's transformation from vegan to hunter.

I'm afraid I give it short shrift here because I'm already so familiar with his work, but it's a good read, especially vital to hunters who haven't spent much time thinking about where anti-hunting vegetarians and vegans come from. If the only voices we listen to are those whose opinions mirror our own 100 percent, we are condemned to a future of idiocy.

Chapter 5, What You Can't Learn from Cartoons: Or, How to Go Hunting After Watching Bambi: This is a fascinating piece by Gregory A. Clark that explores the production of what became perhaps the most monumentally anti-hunting movie ever, Bambi. I'd read a little about how the movie came about, but this was the first detailed account I'd seen, and it will show you why a book that all hunters would relate to became a movie that plunged so much of our nation into anti-hunting sentiment.

Chapter 8: Tracking in Pursuit of Knowledge: Teachings of an Algonquin Anishinable Bush Hunter: I really enjoyed this piece by Jacob Wawatie and Stephanie Pyne because it delved deeply into a hunter-gatherer ethic about hunting and the planet. This is, of course, my schtick these days, exploring how hunting connects me to a pre-agricultural lifestyle that was actually sustainable. This essay made me feel like I was sitting around a campfire learning from elders. It left me grateful.

Chapter 9: Living with Dead Animals? Trophies as Souvenirs of the Hunt: This is a really, really academic look at why we keep trophies, and I loved it.

One of the hardest things to explain to non-hunters is why we keep pieces of the hunt: heads, feathers, spurs, "hero shot" photos. This piece by Garry Marvin was a pretty serious look at the reasons for keeping such souvenirs, and I think it was written in a way that non-hunters could possibly relate to it. If you find yourself struggling to explain your wall o' heads (or in our house, our Mantel of Death), you've got to check out this essay.

Chapter 10: The Carnivorous Herbivore: Hunting and Culture in Human Evolution: This essay by Valerius Geist won't necessarily settle any arguments about whether we were meant to be herbivores or carnivores, but it is nonetheless fascinating (as my blog-friend Chas Clifton told me it would be when he saw that Geist was one of the authors in this book).

Geist looks at both our carnivorous and herbivorous roots, and where he really blew my mind was with his exploration of how we developed empathy, which prevented us from using our weapons to the detriment of our own species, and - my read on it - planted the seeds for the very empathy that has some among our species challenging whether we should eat meat at all.

Love, love, love writing that really challenges my established notions, and this one did. Awesome.

Chapter 11: The Fear of the Lord: Hunting as if the Boss is Watching: This essay by Janina Duerr looks at the universality of a spiritual/mythical "boss" that requires us to follow respectful and sound hunting practices. If you don't study hunter-gatherers much, this will give you a window into how most hunter-gatherers manage to exist in their ecosystems without wiping out game species.

Chapter 13: The Camera or the Gun: Hunting through Different Lenses: While this essay by Jonathan Parker is not ultimately hostile to hunting, it committed the egregious sin of falling for HSUS hype by writing about "Internet hunting" as if it actually exists. It does NOT. It happened once and was brought to a quick halt by the Texas game agency, with the help of a huge outcry from the hunting community.

HSUS sponsors bills to ban a form of hunting - "Internet hunting" - which does not exist. Why does it do that? To plant this image in the minds of non-hunters: Hunters are such horrible people that they'll even kill in robe and slippers, without even leaving their house. Parker fell for it and perpetuated the myth. FAIL.

Chapter 14: Flesh, Death, and Tofu: Hunters, Vegetarians, and Carnal Knowledge: I scribbled a lot of notes in the margins of this essay by T.R. Kover, most of which are esoteric, in retrospect. But one line really stands out: "(I)f hunting were simply about the need to dominate and kill something, then employment in a slaughterhouse would offer a far better outlet for this."

Indeed!

I don't do justice to this essay, though. It's way better than my brief description suggests.

Chapter 18: The New Artemis? Women Who Hunt: The title got me going, but the question mark should've been a tipoff.

Author Debra Merskin is a fellow journalism professor, but the "fellow" ends there. Her essay began in such a way that I didn't know where she stood, but that feeling dissolved quickly. When she got to the part where she got totally obsessed with alleged connections between hunting and sexual domination, I felt compelled to write my least erudite - but possibly most accurate - criticism ever in the margin of a book: "You are stupid."

Oh, I know the Academy would be appalled, but dear God, her essay was irritating! What else was I supposed to think?

Here's an excerpt: "Whether it is the kind of weapons used (bows, arrows, i.e., penetration), sexual names for weapons, or the language of conquest, hunting is a dramatic expression for the performance of stereotypical male roles, defined by violence, aggression, and power. The paraphernalia of hunting is coded with sexual innuendo coupled with violence: bullets are called balls, a weapon is discharged, when the weapon accidentally fires it is called 'premature discharge,' and when a bullet hits the target it is said to have penetrated it."

But wait, Debra, the salad bits you make with a kitchen tool are called melon balls, and the things cats vomit in spring are called hairballs and almost every sport in America involves a ball of some sort. Dear God help us, we are surrounded by testicular metaphors!!! I feel so oppressed.

Seriously: Honey, if you want to explore whether there are overtones of sexual domination in hunting, why don't you try it - hunting, I mean - before opening your mouth? I'm sure anti-hunting feminists will eat up your rhetoric, but to those of us who actually understand that of which we write, your ignorance is devastatingly obvious.

Besides, Spanish has a better and more visually accurate slang term for testicles: huevos, or eggs. Quick, let's explore the violent and domineering nature of Mexican cuisine - you'll never eat huevos rancheros again!!!

Upshot: Buy this book, folks! It's a great, diverse look at hunting, and the intriguing portions far outweigh the irritating ones.

© Holly A. Heyser 2010