Forgive the long post, this is just a story that means a lot to me and maybe some other people will find a little bit of inspiration from someone who shaped my entire life. Theres a TLDR at the bottom but it wont give the story much justice.
My grandfather worked in coal mines all his life until he could finally retire. He did scut work all the way up to being a boss. He grew up in a time where hunting was how a family survived, and that’s how he raised my dad, and how my dad raised my brother. But I wouldnt be raised like that; I was always pretty delicate and loving, especially when it came to nature. Hunting for sport was nothing more than senseless killing. (In my opinion, hunting is necessary for a lot of people, and for wildlife population control, so its not like I abhor hunting as a whole. I just dont support hunting when it is unnecessary or wasteful.)
My grandfather had many hunting stories. Stories of impossibly big deer, of animals who walked around with rotting limbs like nothing was wrong. He had seen it all. After he retired from the mines, he spent a lot of his free time helping to reverse the damage mines did to the countryside, that many people refuse to see. He was ashamed that he belonged to an industry that did horrible things to such a beautiful place, and I’m not sure if he realized he didnt have very many options as far as careers went, but he still felt responsible nonetheless. He worked on watersheds and clean ups and fundraisers, anything to get the acid mine drainage out of the streams. He watched as wildlife dwindled in our region, and then as it came back - thanks to his efforts and the efforts of those he worked alongside. He stopped hunting when I was really young, or maybe before I was born, but I didnt know why for a long time.
I spent a lot of time with him as a kid, since he and my dad lived in the same house. We were quiet with each other most of the time, unless he wanted to tell stories about the old days, and I would listen. He was never very emotional, and my mom told me when I got older that my grandma, my brother, and me, were the only people who had ever said “I love you” to him. So he was pretty stoic, and I was pretty shy around everyone; this allowed us to get along pretty well, to sit around in comfortable silence for long periods of time. He was someone I looked up to and took after, so I always wanted to make sure I wasnt bothering him or disappointing him, even thiugh he was never harsh on me. I used to cry a lot, but never let myself cry in front of my grandpa. I didnt want him to think I was weak, and I already had disadvantage by being a girl - in most peoples eyes.
But there was one cold November day that my father and brother came home with a deer, and strung it up in front of the garage. I didnt know they were there, and came around the side of the house, only to see it hanging there, a look of terror frozen in its big, dead eyes. I ran back inside, unable to stop myself from crying, and tried to run up to my room, but my grandpa called out for me. He asked me to come sit with him, so I did.
“Did you see the deer?” he asked quietly. I nodded. “Did it scare you?” I sniffled and nodded again. “You know I used to kill a lot of deer and never thought anything of it. You know why I stopped?” I shook my head. I had always assumed he had just gotten too old for it.
“It was one cold winter day, and I went out on my own to find a deer. Not because we needed one, but just for something to do. I sat in the woods for hours waiting, and finally one came along. She was big, beautiful, and surefooted - and I shot her. But I didnt kill her right away, you always wish you do just to make it easier on the animal, but sometimes you dont. So I walked over to her to see if she was still alive, and she was, and she looked up at me, with those big brown eyes, and it was almost like she asked me ‘Why?’ After that, I couldnt anymore. I couldnt tell her why. She didnt deserve to be anything other than free, and I took it from her. So you keep on crying for the ones that die, and keep loving them like you do. Aint a thing wrong with that.”
That happened probably about 17 years ago, and I think about it almost every day. My grandpa was filled with so much love for our world and it gets destroyed more and more each day. I miss him a lot, but the little lessons he gave me will always stay with me.
TL;DR my grandpa was a conservationist who instilled a love for nature in my heart. He was a hunter his entire life and pledged not to hunt anymore after a deer he shot looked directly at him and seemed to ask “Why?” with her eyes, and he didnt have an answer. Told me the story after I accidentally saw my dad and brother skinning a deer and became upset. I think about it every day.
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