The Deadly Perils of Amateur Hunting
A satirical warning about the 'sporting' men of the Pacific Northwest who, in their eagerness to bag big game, frequently mistake their own relatives for deer.
The season for grouse shooting opens tomorrow. Sportsmen will welcome it, but the enlargement of the game season has its drawbacks to a humane observer. On the 27th ult., on Lopez Island, a man was accidentally shot through the left lung by a boy mistaking him for a deer. With the enlargement of the game season, the number of persons whose identity will be confused with that of some beast of the forest will naturally increase. It is a poor year for sport if a hunter does not bag his father, brother, cousin, or next friend. The capacity of the average hunter on this coast to bag one of his own family is so thoroughly established that a hunter who does not shoot at least one of his wife's relations or a minister is looked upon with distrust by his neighbors as lacking the proper spirit.
“A hunter who does not shoot at least one of his wife's relations... is looked upon with distrust by his neighbors; as rather wanting in the proper spirit of a man.”
This piece uses dark humor to highlight the real, recurring danger of hunting accidents—a problem that still persists in rural Washington today. It reflects a cultural frontier identity where gun ownership was pervasive but often untrained.
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