posted on Aug, 12 2012 @ 11:47 AM
I took the last sipp of coffee hurriedly this morning. It was time. I went upstairs and wiped down my rifle with a well oiled rag one more time and
put 3 .30-06 rounds into the clip of a 1917 trench rifle I bought surplus about 20 years ago. Dreadfully, i knew it would do the pending task well.
My wife had already gone outside to start feeding the animals... the goats, the chickens, the pigs...generally in that order everyday... today we were
feeding the horses last. This would whet the appetite of our two geldings...Stretch and Clarence. Clarence is about 16 years old now and is solid,
stocky, rambunctious but maturing... a beautiful horse.
Stretch by contrast has seen his better days. Once much like Clarence, he was now 36... lean. stringy, going lame in his front leg, and it was
increasingly hard to keep weight on him... this next winter would be tough and we weren't sure what to do next. we had tried the sweet feeds and
senior feeds and beet pulp to buff him up,... but Stretch was just getting old. My long time stalwart friend was a mere shadow of himself and he was
hurting. Stretch took a lot of naps now... laying on the sweet hay in the summer sun... sometimes I had to see him breath as he often looked dead.
It was time.
We took the feed bucket and scoop and walked slowly back into the wooded pasture... shaking and rattling the feed to lead them on. Clarence was right
there, but Stretch... it hurt him to move and walk that far. Finally, with a sudden burst... he came along... limping. For a brief moment, he looked
spry... a little healthier... spirited... but then Clarence stood beside him and all of Stretch's frailties came rushing back.
My wife nervously lit a cigarette, tears welded up in both our eyes as we looked at each other and then looked away... Damn, this was hard.. too
Finally, Stretch was where he needed to be... the feed was gone... and my wife led Clarence away back up the hill. I pulled the bolt and locked in a
"Good bye, old friend." Aimed at his head... and fired.
Stretch collapsed to the ground as if his legs had been swept out from under him. He tried to get back up.
I cried out.." Stay down, damn it. Stay down" and fired another round.. point blank to the head. Blood gushed in torrents from his nose and mouth
and yet, Stretch still tried to get back up...
I fired one more and final round. It was over. A spirited fighter to the end. And then I wailed like a little child all the way back up the hill.
I write this because so often here in the Survival Forum, we speak of killing with such bravado...
We wonder what is taking the American populace so long to rise up and violently rebel against the government.
We speak of killing this animal or that opponent or trapping and killing and dressing our next meal so coldly.
My question and catalyst for conversation is this...
Have you ever killed? Could you kill? An animal... an opponent... mercy kill a friend that can't go on?
I believe the reason most Americans have not rebelled against the government is that things are not bad enough yet, but when they do get bad enough...
we will still hesitate because once that gennie is out of the bottle... there is no going back.
I believe further, that most people that own a firearm respect life and know the fragility and preciousness of life... and know the ramifications of
killing... be it a friend, a sporting animal, a farm animal for food, or as a veteran... the life of another person.
Have you killed or could you kill?