Last night we went on a quest to check out local resources for reloading supplies. We drove to Atlantic Gun and Tackle and walked in the door.

My first reaction was that of comfort. All the trophies on the wall reminded me of my uncle Aladár’s house in Rocky River. He lived in an era when you went on safaris to Africa to bring back the heads of animals and you mounted them to your wall. Dozens of various trophies were on the walls. A bear-skin rug was in front of the fireplace. A zebra pelt hung neatly on the wall and so forth. Seeing the store decorated like that felt like walking into a room from my childhood.

On the other hand En felt sick. Dead animals around are not her cup of tea.

Killing. Killing for the sport of it mainly.

But that got me wondering — would I go on a hunt?

The sport of it doesn’t jibe with me. I don’t see a need to kill something just to hang it on my wall. It strikes me as a waste of the life of an animal.

Would I go hunting to bring back meat?

I think the answer to that would have to be yes. I eat meat nearly every day. It carries the same level of responsibility as me doing the dirty work myself. If I’m comfortable delegating the act of killing an animal to someone else, I need to be comfortable doing that personally as well.

Otherwise that would make me somewhat of a hypocrite, wouldn’t it?

So the decision is that if I continue to be an omnivore, I need to be comfortable with all that goes into it. Mind you I don’t think I’ll be seeking it out any time soon, but I must accept personal responsibility for the acts that are done on my behalf.