This area has some of the most avid hunters I have ever met. After talking to some of them, I felt a little left out that I had never actually hunted.

When I was a young lady, my best friend would take me along in the the back of the pickup (remember when we could still ride in the back of a pickup without concern of harm) when her dad went hunting. We were along for the ride, the candy bars he brought with, and the fresh air. It was fun. I even tried shooting a hunting gun of some sort. It knocked me to the ground. What a rude awakening that was.

I loved seeing the wildlife (birds and deer) dart among the trees looking for an escape route, but I never could have killed one. I love animals too much.

That is not to say that I don’t understand that hunting is a necessity, especially where there is great abundance of the deer population. I have snagged a couple of deer with cars at night when they appear, seemingly out of nowhere. It is then that I acknowledge the skill of the hunters who reduce those populations every fall.

I would much rather the deer be shot during hunting season, than starve to death or freeze over the winter.

They are such beautiful creatures. Have you ever watched a fawn kick up its heels as it follows its mother. It is just delightful!

Deer and pheasant keep many a family fed over the winter. For those who enjoy wild game, it is a treat. Deer sausage, roasts, jerky and pheasant cooked until it’s tender.

Around the Rugby area, where there is prime hunting land available, whole families go hunting together. Sons and daughters learn at their parents’ knees about how to track the animals and shoot them. When they get home at dusk, they sit around and discuss the hunt together. Hunting is a real family bonding sport.

And it just doesn’t stop with one generation. Grandpa and his sons and their kids, uncles, aunts and all the cousins go hunting together. They all meet at the farm or in town, spend the weekend, and enjoy each other’s company while getting meat ready for the freezer. Some familes take their game to a meat processing plant. Others grind their own deer meat and make jerky. It is a fall ritual that families don’t want to miss.

Barta is The Tribune’s editor