Someone up there doesn't like me killing stuff... (1167 hits)
Category: RomanceRating: 1.52 on 47 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Phallic_Cymbals (View user info) at 2008-08-03 09:33:04 EDT
The first time I ever shot an animal I was about 10 years old. My dad ran my school's pistol club (back in the days when Australia was a bit more 'yee-haw' about guns) and the end of one shooting season found us with about 200 "duds". Duds were bullets that had been fired already but had not gone off, the evidence of which was a small line on the base of the shell where the firing pin had hit it.
Generally, simply reloading a dud and firing again would see a successful shot ring out, and so it was that dad had me going through all the leftover duds by firing at tin cans with a .22 pump action.
Some way through the ros of cans, dad saw that I was portraying a level of retardation below the absolute maximum (or "the Electro line" in psychological circles) and decided it would be reasonably safe to leave me happily popping away at cans near the sheds while he headed back to the house to drink beer.
After going through about 100 or so bullets, boredom crept up on me and I started looking for a more difficult target. A magpie squawked mear me and sealed its fate.
Even at that age, I was a reasonably skilled shooter. In my army cadet unit I won a can of coke (retail value: 40cents. Value when considering your friends don't have any coke: priceless) for being the best shot in my platoon, so I had no doubts that I could end the life of this bird in painless dignity.
Like hell.
I lined up the bird, which was no further away than 50 metres, and pulled the trigger. There was a puff of feathers and the bird fell over, but within seconds it had pulled itself into a semi-upright position and was pulling itself in jagged circles, squawking loudly and miserably while one limp wing dragged on the ground. If a clearer mental image is necessary, think of an obese sufferer of Down's Syndrome trying to carry a sackful of doorknobs through a rotating door.
Yes, it was miserable.
Horrified, I pumped the gun and took aim again. Another puff of feathers flew up and the bird collapsed. The thought "that was more horrific than I expected" was halfway through my brain when a solitary wing poked straight at the sky, as if accusing the gods of allowing such a creature as a 10 year old boy to walk the planet.
Now utterly mortified, I shot about 4 more rounds into the dust around the bird, my mind already swirling with images of it's decimated body crawling onto the foot of my bed that night and pecking my eyes out in revenge. No doubt the second shot killed it, and the wing sticking up was a result of the wind, but my mental image of that bird seeming to say "Not dead yet, buddy" haunted me for years.
And so it was a good two or three years later that dad decided to take me out to kill my first kangaroo. The work dogs love kangaroo meat and for anyone that has ecological objections to shooting your national animal, let me placate you by saying that there are now more roos than ever before, thanks to the creation of dams and large grazing pastures.
So I had the same .22 pump action as well as the larger calibre .303 Lee Enfield. The plan was that I would set myself up behind a log and dad would drive onto the other side of the wooded hill on the quad bike, scaring a mob of kangaroos towards me so I could shoot one.
The rule was, if the roo was closer than about 50 metres then I was to use the .22. Otherwise, the .303 was to be used.
Dad zipped off into the woods and I huddled against the log in excitement, looking down the sight of the .303 and pretending I was a fearless soldier holed up against a vicious enemy.
A huge mob of roos bounded out of the hill but were far too far away for me to get a shot off. Dad returned on the bike and asked why I hadn't even taken a shot, a hard look in his eye showing a suspicion that I wasn't man enough. I assured him that there was no decent shot on and he spun the bike around and disappeared again.
Less than a minute later, I hearf the grass crunching behind me and turned around to find a single roo hopping its way along the fence line no more than 20 metres behind me. It stopped and sat up on its haunches and stared at me.
I had the .303 in my hands and did not reach for the .22 even though it was well my grasp. I think that some fear brought on by the magpie incident so long before made me want to make sure the roo was dead with one shot.
I lined up the animal in my sights and shot. The bullet burst straight through the kangaroo's side and it keeled over, very dead.
It was then that I saw a strange twitching coming from the kangaroo and I felt a surge of the same horrified panic that had greeted me when the magpie had stood up.
I moved towards the animal, aghast, and moaned in horror as I saw a joey (baby kangaroo) that could be described as nothing less than adorable scratching its way out of its mothers pouch.
To make matters worse, the bullets that had so successfully killed its mother had sliced through the spine of the joey, so that its large, awkward legs dragged behind it like dead weight.
I was still standing there when dad pulled up behind me on the bike, slapped me on the shoulder and congratulated me on the good shot. Without blinking, he picked up the .22 and shot the joey in the face.
At that moment, I had some sort of realisation about the real differences between men and boys.
Since then, I have done plenty of hunting of kangaroos (dog food) and rabbits (rabbit are cunts) but I've never forgotten the childish horror that attended those first two occasions.
Now the flashing dark eyes of a mother kangaroo distil in me the same emotions as looking at marbles, or a rock in the sea. Apparently that's called "growing up".
I don't know what I'd called it.
User Reviews
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2008-09-04 06:14:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Dark like chocolate.
Submitted by Yozz (user info) at 2008-08-07 09:19:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
*Yozz fingers his Kahr P9 lovingly and stares into space dreaming of the day he can kill a baby kangaroo*
Submitted by sergeantslaughter (user info) at 2008-08-07 02:45:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
how does it feel to be -2? thats right bitch
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2008-08-05 17:40:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
that's awful :(
Submitted by Ducky (user info) at 2008-08-05 11:34:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2008-08-05 11:19:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
That's really sad.
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2008-08-05 06:35:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I love magpies. You, sir, are a bad man.
Submitted by Sphagnum (user info) at 2008-08-05 05:16:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Surprisingly, I'm not a big fan either.
Good tale.
Submitted by BobSandwich (user info) at 2008-08-04 12:12:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by czwij (user info) at 2008-08-04 07:21:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
when you go to hell, they will be there waiting for you.
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Agreed, you better take a bigger gun. The undead, while fun to shoot, are a bitch to kill again.
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2008-08-04 11:47:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I can certainly relate to this story. Except for the roos part, since we don't have them here.
Submitted by sexualchocolate1984 (user info) at 2008-08-04 10:52:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This story is awesome!
Once a friend of mine was out on his farm, blasting stuff with his shotgun and he spotted a Heron flying overhead (we're not allowed to shoot Herons here in the UK), needless to say he blasted it out of the sky, big fucker, and it crashed down to the ground, but was only wounded.
My friend (who shall remain nameless) quickly ran to the house and grabbed half a pool cue (the nice fat, heavy end), with which he beat the sucker to death.
Quality.
He's gonna love this story.
Submitted by skrapmetal (user info) at 2008-08-04 09:53:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2008-08-04 08:14:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
You can really take down a Kangaroo at 50m with a .22?
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It doesn't matter how thick it's skull is or how much muscle it has over its heart if you can shoot your prey in the pupil of its eye. A good quality .22 with decent ammunition is a great hunting combination for less-aggressive game out to 75m or so. I have a Ruger 10/22 with a heavy SS barrel and reduced trigger pull. Semi-jacketed hollow point bullets for squirrels and rabbits, and full copper-jacketed for larger game (the full copper-jacketed bullet doesn't break up as it enters, so it ricochets around inside the skull to drop your prey immediately). If you're going to kill it, it will be better for all concerned if you are quick about it.
Submitted by Phallic_Cymbals (user info) at 2008-08-04 08:35:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2008-08-04 08:14:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
You can really take down a Kangaroo at 50m with a .22?
_____
I've always used a .303 and to be honest, I'm a bit skeptical that a .22 could take one down. Lungy posted on another post recently saying his marine friend said it would work and that's what inspired me to write this in the first place.
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2008-08-04 08:14:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
You can really take down a Kangaroo at 50m with a .22?
Submitted by czwij (user info) at 2008-08-04 07:21:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
when you go to hell, they will be there waiting for you.
Submitted by angrydrunk86 (user info) at 2008-08-03 23:48:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
i read this at work and started laughing so hard they sent someone in to make sure i wasn't having a stroke. fuck i almost pissed my pants.....oh...nevermind.
Submitted by Unabonger (user info) at 2008-08-03 23:44:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
that's similar to how i felt the first time my cult made me rape.
now i know that i have 'cleansing semen'.
**attn FBI, this is a joke.
Submitted by iddqd (user info) at 2008-08-03 23:25:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by DonkeyOnTheEdge (user info) at 2008-08-03 10:51:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I think it's safe to say that you have taken over my miss-spelling crown
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FALE
Submitted by Danger_Ranger (user info) at 2008-08-03 22:54:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
YOU KILLED FLIPPER
Submitted by tinactin (user info) at 2008-08-03 18:47:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by DonkeyOnTheEdge (user info) at 2008-08-03 10:51:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I think it's safe to say that you have taken over my miss-spelling crown, though I will still get post Nazi's pointing out every dropped letter.
I want to shoot a Kangaroo.
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He thinks Miss Spelling is a pageant competition
Submitted by Caulaincourt (user info) at 2008-08-03 18:44:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
hunting is awesome.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2008-08-03 17:57:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm against the pain and suffering that our collective industrialized slaughterhouses create, but hopefully you'll understand why I +2 this. Learning how to kill quick and clean and then eating that animal, that's fair game, so to speak. Killing chutes and canned hunts, inhuman.
Submitted by SilentRenegade (user info) at 2008-08-03 17:14:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
did you eat the joey? you should have eaten the joey. made roo jerkey or somethin.
Submitted by i_can_get_you_a_toe (user info) at 2008-08-03 15:49:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by Hookhand (user info) at 2008-08-03 15:46:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
You're a sick fuck
Submitted by Director (user info) at 2008-08-03 15:30:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I don't kill things anymore.
Unless it's by accident, like brushing off a spider.
Lisa is right.
This place is depressing.
Submitted by X54 (user info) at 2008-08-03 15:00:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Nice job of making me feel sorry for a bird and a kangaroo. Fuck, man: we're predators! We're not supposed to feel sorry for our prey.
Submitted by Linus (user info) at 2008-08-03 14:22:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
That doesn't really answer the questions of truth or meaning. You just explained what happens when organisms die, or maybe you're suggesting creating more life as a result is meaning in itself.
Submitted by skrapmetal (user info) at 2008-08-03 14:01:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Not at all. As we all do, I kill so that I can survive. When I die my body will serve to sustain other living things, such as the bacteria and fungi that flourish as I decompose, or perhaps even the bear that attacked me in the park and dragged my carcass off to some cave somewhere. Whatever the outcome, it's not all for naught. It is the way things have evolved to work here. In the meantime I don't feel bad about shooting squirrels, cutting tomatoes and peppers off their stalks, and pulling bean plants out by the roots for chili.
Submitted by Linus (user info) at 2008-08-03 13:50:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Your reasoning leads to Nihilism below.
Submitted by skrapmetal (user info) at 2008-08-03 13:48:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
My first time knowingly killing something(s) http://www.ubersite.com/m/78281#1673998
Since then I have become aware that simply taking a shower or ingesting an antibiotic pill annihilates more living things than there are people on this planet. Everything you eat to live, plant or animal, was once alive itself and died so you wouldn't. All you can do is remember that "big/fuzzy/cute" doesn't mean "of greater value to the universe" and try to be merciful when you kill things.
Submitted by forensicgirl3 (user info) at 2008-08-03 13:45:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I like Phallic Cymbals, but I hate killing animals.
I eat fish (no other meat) and I even feel vile and loathesome for doing that.
I'm a pussy. I admit it.
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2008-08-03 13:37:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Time to pleasure me.
Submitted by experima (user info) at 2008-08-03 13:35:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
:(
just read the end.
:(
:(
:(
:(
Submitted by experima (user info) at 2008-08-03 13:32:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
If a clearer mental image is necessary, think of an obese sufferer of Down's Syndrome trying to carry a sackful of doorknobs through a rotating door
HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAHHAAHAHAHA
Submitted by experima (user info) at 2008-08-03 13:29:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
auto 2.
now to read.
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2008-08-03 13:16:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I have never shot a gun. I reckon I would kill myself, I managed to shoot a water cannon at a nearbye dog and it bit me :(
Submitted by rob_berg (user info) at 2008-08-03 12:00:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
you = rabbit.
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2008-08-03 11:43:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
shameless, relevant linkpimp
http://www.ubersite.com/m/109725
Submitted by DeathJester (user info) at 2008-08-03 11:43:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I stepped on a spider once.
Submitted by mrwolf (user info) at 2008-08-03 11:27:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
WTF I'm not reading all that!
-P
Submitted by lungfish (user info) at 2008-08-03 11:22:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I only shoot beer cans.
Submitted by shadow (user info) at 2008-08-03 11:21:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
brutal.
Submitted by DonkeyOnTheEdge (user info) at 2008-08-03 10:51:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I think it's safe to say that you have taken over my miss-spelling crown, though I will still get post Nazi's pointing out every dropped letter.
I want to shoot a Kangaroo.
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2008-08-03 09:53:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
awful.
Well written, but I hate the sentiment.
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2008-08-03 09:49:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'll never forget that horrid gurgling sound when I slit a goats throat for the first time at age 8. I got punched in the back of the head by my uncle for not doing it right and making the goat suffer more than it should have.
I'm completely normal now ::twitch::
Submitted by iddqd (user info) at 2008-08-03 09:47:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
once while roo shooting, i fired at a roo on the move, and somehow hit it in the nose. blood went everywhere.