Hunting in Holland

Holland is my home, and it's the first place where I ever went on a hunt. At first, I was stunned, but shockingly charmed - my first hunt was a bloodless one, and I fell in love with the life outdoors. Many hunts without a catch followed, one more beautiful than the next. But the Dutch hunts were also where I was first confronted with death. I never knew a hare screams when it's shot, and it's not a happy sound. I cried uncontrollably when the hounds howled at the close of a day where it rained pheasants. I'm still conflicted about many of the things I see, but these hunts have also made it possible for me to come to terms with death in a way, and have made me think about what it means to be a consumer of animal products in today's industrialized society, which I think is a healthy thing for any thinking carnivore.

My First Hunt

In this article for Vrij Nederland, I describe my first hunting experiences - studying, hunting, being up close with death. Jaegermeister and tears galore!

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