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On my birthday at the cottage two years ago, my dad presented me with a Remington 1100 twelve gauge shot gun. We were on the stairs leading down to his cottage and he slid the gun from its case, stretched out his hands and said, “Do you want this?” I looked at it. Took the gun into my hands. Immediately noticed how heavy it felt. Then I passed it back to my dad and said, “Sure.” My dad sealed the deal with, “Happy birthday.” Little did I know that accepting this gift was my first step towards becoming a hunter. At that moment I became participant and observer. Fully embedded in the process. Engaging with these landscapes with the intent to kill.