The sight of geese flying overhead and the sound of gunshots elicit looks of bloodlust in the eyes of some young men.
While lounging on my brother’s deck this past weekend, for coffee and a visit, I watched a flock of geese pass overhead and heard the sound of gunshots rise on the morning air. Drat. It’s hunting season again. A time I hate. And as I glanced at my two sons Justin and Chris, who were seated nearby, I saw their heads snap to attention and their eyes glaze over with the expression they usually get at this time of year — a look of bloodlust.
I know I’m being dramatic. A little. They aren’t really bloodthirsty, but there’s something about a flock of geese honking overhead that causes an immediate and adverse reaction in my boys. It’s then I know they’re mentally sighting each bird down the scope of a gun.
It’s my own fault. Back in the early 1990s, Chris was introduced to Nintendo. He loved to play a simple, but popular game at the time called, “Duck Hunt.” He’d spend as much time as I’d allow in front of the TV screen, a fanatical look in his eye and a fast finger on the trigger. The game depicted a barking dog who flushed birds out of a lush meadow. Then, after they were shot and plummeted from the sky, the hound retrieved them in his paws with an expression of grinning pleasure. By today’s standards it wasn’t all that grisly, but sheesh.
Also my fault was when we graduated to more sophisticated equipment, and our first Nintendo PlayStation was acquired for Christmas. A game came with it called “Twisted Metal.” Ever heard of it? Each player chooses and “becomes” one of many vehicles of destruction. Then, you, as a police cruiser, race car, truck, jeep, tank, hearse or front-end loader, race around a scene of mayhem, trying to destroy all the other vehicles before they destroy you.
During the holidays, I played that game so much, as a character called Axel, that when I’d see a loader out minding his own business, my immediate reaction would be to ram him broadside! And those wild thoughts of taking out a passing jeep with enhanced machine gun powers weren’t great either. I mean, I wasn’t in danger of actually doing it, but yikes.
I had to cut back drastically on screen time. That is not a nice way to spend the Christmas season of love and peace toward all mankind.
Back before I had children, I was addicted to a different video game. Pacman. No one was shot, maimed, run over or beaten in this game, thank goodness. The sole purpose was to eat yellow dots and avoid life-sucking ghosts. No harm in that right? Yet why was it so addictive? Was it the satisfying sound of the happy little Pacman munching up spots? The excitement of evading coloured ghosts and their googly eyes? Or was it the thrill to be found in the darkened halls of an arcade, where pinball machines reigned supreme and quarters tinkled into the hands of eager customers who whiled away their lives staring mindlessly at computer generated images? I shall never know.
What’s all this got to do with a flock of passing fowl and a few hunters out for a little sport hunting you ask? Nothing really. It’s all just musings on the game of life my friend.
Helen lives on the family farm near Marshall, Sask. where she is writer, columnist and works in education. To contact her, or learn more about her books, go to myprairiewool.com or write Box 55, Marshall, Sask. S0M 1R0
