Hunting, Ethics, and the Poems That Come From It
Hey everyone, I’ve been slowly working through my collection of older prose-style & narrative poems—most centred around life in the outdoors and the ethical questions that naturally come with that. These pieces often explore the tension between taking and honouring, and the lessons learned from being close to wild places. Recently, I wrote a newer piece (earlier this year) that’s pretty personal—most of them are in their own way—but this one feels especially tied to my life and raising my young children in the hunting community. It speaks more directly to some of the issues we see in modern hunting culture: how quickly ethics can get lost when ego, tech, or detachment enter the picture. It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot, and this poem tries to put some of that into words. I’ll share below—hoping you ethical predators out there enjoy it, and can maybe even relate in some way. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐖𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 —𝑨 𝑭𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚’𝒔 𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒚 𝑻𝒐𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝑬𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝑯𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑭𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝑳𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒄𝒚 I see it now, too clearly to pretend otherwise. The way the world presses in—through screens, through stories, through voices that echo around my children louder than my own. It's not just the noise, it’s the boasting. The friends who come over in lifted trucks, caked in mud and pride, talking about kills like conquests, like trophies won from a battlefield. They slap backs and share photos—grins stretched wide beside bloodied animals; guns held high like flags of victory. And my boys listen. They lean in. I see the way their eyes spark—not with reverence, but with hunger. For the shot. For the kill. For the story they’ll get to tell after. They ask how soon they can shoot; how big the rack must be before it’s “worth it.” They talk about deer like targets, not lives. They talk about rifles and gear, not patience or thanks. They want it all now—the buck, the moment, the glory. And the friends feed it. They mean no harm, maybe. But they have forgotten something sacred. Or maybe they never knew it at all.