Quotes About Hunting

In the South, dove hunts do not draw quietly to a close. Sometimes, at the simplest end, a grill and cooler are hauled to the edge of the field, and the doves' breasts are grilled - usually swaddled in bacon, maybe with a jalapeno tucked inside - as the hunters tell and retell tales of the day's shooting.

Turkey hunting is my passion because I love the thrill of calling them in.

Turkey hunting is my thing; it's only once a year, but if it's turkey season, don't call me, because I won't answer.

What I love about elk hunting is its similarities to turkey hunting. When you call to a bull elk, and it comes in ripping things apart and sounding like a herd of buffalo coming at you, it's exciting!

When I was growing up, and other people I knew were getting into trouble, I was somewhere in a deer stand or going to bed early so I could be up before dawn to hunt turkeys. My love of the outdoors kept me solid.

I grew up and fell out of love with hunting, though I still appreciate the meats I grew up eating: braised rabbit, pheasant jambalaya, snapping turtle soup, and venison backstrap with eggs.

I hear Peeta's voice in my head. She has no idea. The effect she can have. Obviously meant to demean me. Right? But a tiny part of me wonders if this was a compliment. That he meant I was appealing in some way. It's weird, how much he's noticed me. Like the attention he's paid to my hunting. And apparently, I have not been as oblivious to him as I imagined, either. The flour. The wrestling. I have kept track of the boy with the bread.

Sorry excuses for hunters and friends. Both of us.

As we trudge back through the woods, we reach a boulder, and both Gale and I turn our heads in the same direction, like a pair of dogs catching a scent on the wind. Cressida notices and asks what lies that way. We admit, without acknowledging each other, it's our old hunting rendez-vous place. She wants to see it, even after we tell her it's nothing really. Nothing but a place where I was happy, I think.

You can tell by the way the girls whisper about him when he walks by in school that they want him. It makes me jealous but not for the reason people would think. Good hunting partners are hard to find.

Our rocky ledge overlooking the valley. Perhaps a little less green than usual, but the blackberry bushes hang heavy with fruit. Here began countless days of hunting and snaring, fishing and gathering, roaming together through the woods, unloading our thoughts while we filled our game bags. This was the doorway to both sustenance and sanity. And we were each other's key.

It's weird, how much he's noticed me. Like the attention he's paid to my hunting. And apparently, I have not been as oblivious to him as I imagined, either. The flour. The wrestling. I have kept track of the boy with the bread.

Tomorrow's a hunting day," I say. "I won't be much of a help with that," Peeta says. "I've never hunted before." "I'll kill and you cook," I say. "And you can always gather." "I wish there was some sort of bread bush out there," says Peeta.

Here began countless days of hunting and snaring, fishing and gathering, roaming together through the woods, unloading our thoughts while we filled our game bags. This was the doorway to both sustenance and sanity. And we were each other's key.

I hunt. He bakes. Haymitch drinks.

Good hunting partners are hard to find.

How is he?" "He's a royal pain, frankly. He eats three times as much as the rest of us, yet he can't seem to get the knack of hunting. If we don't feed him he whines. So, of course, we do feed him and then he grows another six inches and whines louder.

Look what I shot." Gale holds up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck in it, and I laugh.

healers. My father got to know my mother because on his hunts he would sometimes collect medicinal

Peeta keeps all of us in fresh baked goods. I hunt. He bakes. Haymitch drinks.

Hey, Catnip," says Gale. My real name is Katniss, but when I first told him, I had barely whispered it. So he thought I'd said Catnip. Then when this crazy lynx started following me around the woods looking for handouts, it became his official nickname for me. I finally had to kill the lynx because he scared off game. I almost regretted it because he wasn't bad company. But I got a decent price for his pelt.

We won't go far. We'll use our own bows. You can have the meat for the kitchen," adds Gale.

We learn to keep busy again. Peeta bakes. I hunt.

I could be shot on a daily basis for hunting, but the appetite of those in charge protect me.