The Buck Stops Here...

He came to the door this afternoon, soaked with rain. The young man in a camouflage suit said he had shot a large buck with his bow two hours previous and had been tracking it, and needed permission to search here. An hour later he found the arrow near the driveway, minus the point. Three hours later he and his buddy gave up the search and drove off in their pickup trucks empty-handed. Somewhere in the night- on the hill behind, in the brush by the creek bed, or on the mountain top, there is a wounded animal suffering and perhaps dying with no chance of recovery. Struggling for breath. Shuddering with pain. Next year it might be the little fawn we have watched grow up this summer. Sure, I eat meat. I just don't like the thought of animals being hurt for sport. But who asked me???