Posers And Poachers.

I had a shoot in Glendale the other day. I was early, so I 'killed' some time by hopping over to Cabella's for a while (Cabella's being the foremost example of man's fixation with guns and anything else that projects).

Now this whole experience warrants some background before I proceed: I am the son of a CattleMan—Cowboy—Rancher (the real kind, not the wannabe cowboys that parade their new boots and overly-tight jeans in an attempt to be more like other wannabe cowboys who have more money [e.g. Brooks and Dunn]).

My dad raised me right. Old School. Lots of manual labor and outdoor experiences. Everything from bailing hay at 2:30 in the morning to week-long 'Round-Ups' at his ranch in Williams, with the Grand Canyon and San Francisco Peaks as our neighbors. These are the kind of experiences that you hate at the time, but remember with nothing but fondness as the years roll by.

Needless to say, I eat beef. I have seen cattle castrated and branded, killed and butchered. And Deer and Elk and Buffalo. I have myself killed a Deer and an Elk. I shot them, gutted them, butchered them, froze them and ate them. Much of my outdoor experience involved living off the land. I have never been ashamed of that. While I admit I loved the 'thrill of the hunt,' I have since seen the bigger purpose in the whole experience. If something gives its life to sustain yours, then there is purpose.

(Confessional: When I was a kid, all I wanted was to shoot stuff; I thoughlessly killed too many things as a young punk).

I bring up all of that because since I went away to college in the year 2000, I have undergone perhaps the greatest conversion of my life (outside of the mission, which was more profound). I have become an absolute Pacifist and Animal Activist. I can hardly bring myself to kill a spider without feeling remorse for the loss. And then there's the freakish experiences I have had with toads, birds, geckos, skunks, cats, deer and other animals which I found at Death's Door, only to watch them go on to the other side. It has been my fate in recent years to witness the death of things—not from a distance like "oh gross, look at that roadkill," but intimate, slow, painful deaths in which I was more often than not holding or touching the creature as it suffered and died. Perhaps it was Karma for my past...

I have wondered many times if this was God's way of teaching me—of showing me first-hand that He personally knows of every sparrow's fall and even of every hair that leaves our head. He is infinitely aware of all the suffering and loss on the earth. I do feel like I have gotten a glimpse of the Master Plan. I see the seasons of Spring and Winter in everything, from my new-born boy to my oldest relative.

Yes, Mufassa, I see the Circle of Life.

While I don't fully understand everything about death, I am at peace with it. I see that it must needs be.

Believe it or not, ALL of that has brought us back to Cabella's, and I'll tell you why: I do not, nor will I EVER understand the mentality of GROWN men who destroy life for the sheer sport of it. I am reminded of a sticker I saw on the back of a huge truck that read:

"Ditch the Bitch, Let's go Huntin'!"

Wes thinks to himself: "Oh, so you're a Misogynist AND killer for sport? Wow, may I PLEASE model my own life after yours, you perfect example of a human being."

As I was walking through Cabella's and enjoying all the taxidermy, I couldn't help but wonder: "are these animals the result of a natural death, or the donation of some proud hunter?" I looked at a full-sized African Elephant and was overcome with wonder at its majesty. I mean, SERIOUS majesty. I can't imagine what it would be like to see one alive. Then there was an American Grizzly, one of the coolest and most beautiful animals there is. How could anyone WANT to kill these things, for no other reason than for bragging rights or even worse, to get gain from the animal's hide or fur or teeth or tusks or any part of the creature?

Who does that? How base is man?

All of my taxidermy excitement gone, I stormed out of the place thinking that If I ever created a world, I might leave out one species:

Homo Sapien.

wes.