Don't Like Killin Wild Animals, Just Eatin Em

It's another gray day on the 14th floor. It's starting to look like more snow. On the plus side, it's 23 degrees at the Mini, so the temperatures are on the upswing. The sun was also up before 7 AM this morning, so the days are getting longer. During a two year stint on the island of Guam we watched endless sunsets over the Philippine Sea. Here on the 14th floor in Streeterville, we watch endless sunrises. As a youth, I would've never thought myself of getting up early enough to witness endless sunrises. Age and jobs that pay the bills change things, however. As a poet once said "I've pondered and questioned. It all seems quite clear. Change is the only thing permanent here." At any rate, Babs waxed nostalgic about Daylight Saving Time being the true harbinger of spring. That means about a month and a half.

When spring comes a young man's fancy turns to ......a great many things, including love. In a great many cases being cooped up inside for the cold winter turns a young man's fancy to outdoor activities. If that includes love, so much the better. Love on the beach. Love in the woods. Love on a mountaintop. Whatever. I'm more of a love indoors kind of guy, though, and that goes on year round. No need for the warmup season for that. I do, however, look forward to greater access to the outdoors.

For me the outdoors includes running, biking, going somewhere tropical and snorkeling, hiking, playing tennis, or just generally enjoying a sunny day with a stroll about. You will note that I do not include here such manly guy activities as fishing and hunting. There are those who enjoy these things greatly, but I plead with these individuals not to include me. I don't like them.

As a child, I remember my father owned two shotguns and a .22 bolt action rifle. He hunted. I was 9 years old when I received a Daisy Pump air rifle (BB gun). I didn't get much use out of it and the only thing I ever remember shooting with it was Coke bottles. Of course there was an incident where I told my brother that it was out of BB's and it turned out that I was mistaken. He aimed the gun at my cousin and pulled the trigger, resulting in a BB being lodged between an eyelid and eye and a subsequent trip to the Emergency Room. Oops.

I don't really like guns. I don't really like the prospect of taking a gun and going into the woods where there are drunk people with guns running around shooting at things, sometimes wild animals, sometimes other people, even if by mistake. I do quite well foraging for food at the grocery store and I don't feel it necessary to complement my store of food with things I kill myself. Just not something I care to do. Don't get me started on pistols and assault rifles. Those things are not, repeat, not for hunting. They are for killing other people, nothing else. More on that at another time.

As for fishing, I have enjoyed fishing exactly two times in my life. They both involved fishing in an ocean for big fish with really big hooks. Neither involved me actually baiting a hook. Did I say I'm squeamish? Well, maybe just a little. Very few people have ever actually tried to get me involved in fishing.Most, who know me well, know better. On those rare occasions that I have been dragged along on fishing excursions, I have caught mostly sunburns and a sore butt from sitting in those stupid boats.

A couple of years back a good friend, whom we shall call Fisherguy, thought it would be great fun if Babs and I accompanied him, his wife and kids, and assorted lunatics to the Great Place to the North, known by many as Canada. Fisherguy goes to a fishing camp regularly and he and said assorted lunatics really enjoy fishing for a week and imbibing heavily. Imbibing heavily, I sometimes enjoy. Fishing I assuredly do not. I told him as much. Fisherguy insisted that I had just not caught many fish and when I cast my line into the lake in the Great Place to the North and caught absolutely huge walleye I would then discover the joys of fishing.

Babs and I drove to Canada. It was a long drive. Ever been there? They have these signs along the road warning of "Moose Danger." Apparently, many a Canuck has ruined their vehicle by striking a large moose at high speed. Ah, Wisconsin has its deer. Australia has its kangaroos, and Emus, and don't get me started on that huge lizard I ran over in the outback. Gross! Canada has its problems with moose.

At the fishing camp, guess what? The only thing to do there is, umm fish, and drink heavily. Anyway Babs and I, city folk that we are, were set loose upon the deep blue lake in the North Woods and directed to fish. It was a great surprise to us that in the boat there was a large blunt object, labeled "Walleye Whacker." It was explained to us that fish, not being really dead yet when you haul them into a boat, tend to flop around a lot and cause trouble so the "Walleye Whacker" was for the purpose of knocking them senseless. Oh great! Not only did I have to haul a living thing out of its environment while it's fighting for its life. I also have to knock it senseless with a club. Baby seals anyone?

Babs and I did manage to subdue a couple of walleyes, but as it turned out, 1 day in a little tin boat was about all we could stand. It was a long week. Turns out I'm not as much into drinking heavily as I was when I was 25 years old. I must admit that when Fisherguy sent a lot of extra fish home with us (because he and assorted lunatics had caught way over their limit) Babs and I did eat and enjoy. However, pleeeeeze, ladies and gentlemen, if at any point I tell you that I do not like fishing, take me at my word. And not only do I not like guns, I wouldn't be caught dead in anything camouflage. Don't think me a lesser man. I'll arm wrestle the lot of you, or better yet, I'll sic Babs on you. She boxed in the Golden Gloves.