To hunt or not to hunt

Mike's dad sent Jake a very cute camo outfit for Christmas that would make him just the best dressed little hunter in the area. Now, I know that he's too young to go hunting just yet, but I'm also aware the day will come when he'll be able to go if he wants to. The Flinn men all go hunting and I assume it's a male bonding kind of experience and I'm sure they are responsible hunters. I know they eat what they kill. But my family are more of the gathering type than the hunting type. I mean we like our meat, but we like to buy it at the supermarket and pretend like we don't know how it got there. I prefer to think my steak and hamburger came from cows who died in their sleep of old age after living long, happy lives.

Also, hunting involves guns and bullets and knives and things of a nature that I'm not comfortable letting my little boy have. And isn't it possible that teaching a small child to hunt could possibly kill whatever compassion they were born with in their heart of hearts? I mean, looking down the barrel of a gun and pulling the trigger to kill Bambi's mama takes a certain emotional distance. I don't know. I'm really torn on this one. And yes, I know hunting keeps animal populations in check. I get that. But still, MY boy with a gun? I'm just not ready for that. And by the look on Jake's face in his hunting garb I'm not sure he's ready yet either. Maybe he could take up some other type of manly hobby, you know like working on cars with his daddy or knitting or something.