The summer is slowly ebbing away. In another time and place, the leaves would already be turning amber and our thoughts would be turning to hunting. This was the great American pastime centuries before Abner Doubleday ever pitched a ball. And now, many decades after I last participated, I can still recall rituals like handing a broken-open shotgun to my partner as I crossed a fence. Or the rushing sound of birds taking off in a field of dried cornstalks.I know that somewhere people still hunt, but where most people reside now, in the urbs and the suburbs, the ideas of guns and sports seldom converge. Much of what used to be hunting land is now where we live. But also, somewhere halfway through my life, I think this country changed its mind about guns.When I was younger, guns were mostly about shooting targets and bagging meat. This tradition had its macho aspect, which many still find repellent. Or inspiring: I recall my brother’s enthusing about the blood smear a companion striped on his forehead after he killed his first deer.
Source: The Guns of Autumn | L.A. Weekly