Quotes About Hunting

make the deer come out where you could shoot them. But maybe the kangaroo rats

Mama shook her head. "No, they don't kill for food. They kill for sport and for the thrill of the chase.

P22 shuddered. He didn't like the sound of them humans at all. Mama was teaching them to hunt, but also to respect all the animals that lived in the forest, as each had the right to live and share nature's bounty. Why would you kill something if you didn't eat it? P22 didn't understand that at all.

Who wants to go hunting?" Tsunami nearly shouted. "I know I do! Great idea, Tsunami! No arguing with the Head of School; off we go!" She shot off the ledge and whooshed away into the clouds. Carnelian snorted. "I guess that discussion is over," she said.

But it did not much care for hunting, and then like so many geldings it spent much of its time mourning for its lost stones: a discontented horse.

Jack had a great respect for a man who could show good sport with a pack of hounds. Dillon obviously knew a great deal about hunting, and about horses; yet it was strange he should mind so little about the noise his dogs made, for the cry of a tuneful pack

My heart was crazy now; it's too complicated to know what it was beating for, and how much of it was him and how much of it was the hunting - I think I cared about the deer that got shot - but it didn't matter then. Something was there and its source was irrelevant. It was so easy to feel nothing, all the time, and I held on as hard as I could, because the worst thing, I thought, now, would be for it to go away.

and for the same reason, as a bunch of guys who get together to go hunting. They don't actually hate you. They just need something to chase.

The happy hunting ground of all minds that have lost their balance is not the works of Shakespeare (as Buck Mulligan says) but the Holy Bible.

which proved yet again, as I had seen in many lands, that the Bible was often the happy hunting ground of an unbalanced mind.

There I was sitting right in the middle of the finest hunting country in the world and I didn't even have a dog.

About halfway up, far out on a limb, I found the ghost coon. As I started toward him, my dogs stopped bawling. I heard something I had heard many times. The sound was like the cry of a small baby. It was the cry of a ringtail coon when he knows it is the end of the trail. I never liked to hear this cry, but it was all in the game, the hunter and the hunted. As I sat there on the limb, looking at the old fellow, he cried again. Something came over me. I didn't want to kill him.

Mr. Jorrocks has described fox hunting as providing all the glory of war with only thirty-five percent of its danger.

Dr. Neil Roach, of George Washington University, lead author of a 2013 study that tackles the mystery of why, out of all other primates on the planet, we're the only ones who can kill prey with a lethal throw.

Los Hombres Corredores podían obtener un montón de carne corriendo, pero no podían correr con la barriga repleta de carne, así que obtenían la mayoría de sus carbohidratos de raíces y frutas, dejando las chuletas de antílope para atiborrarse de calorías en ocasiones especiales.

They are en route to Farnham, a small hunting party, when a report is galloped along the road: cases of plague have appeared in the town. Henry, brave on the battlefield, pales almost before their eyes and wrenches around his horse's head: where to? Anywhere will do, anywhere but Farnham.

the kind of man an Anasazi was expected to be. Honorable, modest, self-disciplined, active in the religious life of the clan, one who put the welfare of the clan above his own, skilled in farming and in hunting, trustworthy, dignified.

I grew up in - I personally grew up in a gun culture. I grew up in upstate New York where most families had guns for hunting, target practice, whatever. The vast majority of people I knew never used their guns for any crime.

A lot of people in my state of Vermont are gun owners.

About the only gun law we have in Vermont is during deer season. If you have a semi-automatic, you can't have more than six rounds in it.

I had turned soft, smug, self-satisfied, lulled to sleep by my cushy lifestyle and the easy availability of the game in these pastures of plenty I had been hunting in for so long.

He was a hunter who mourned for his prey, but was very good at tracking it down.

But their unsub might have underestimated her. She glanced about now with the predatory stare of a hawk, knowing she had one huge advantage over the victims. She didn't have to slip into the mind of a killer. She was the great-granddaughter of a killer. The granddaughter of a killer. And the daughter of a serial killer. She had survived among them and was well equipped to hunt them.

As a profiler, she would be great. But hunting a killer was hunting people, the job she'd avoided all her life because it was what her mother had said she was born for. Taking this assignment put her one step closer to her demons. Giving a drunk a drink.