(This post is going to be short. I’m at my fourth house in five days to write and upload my blog. My friends and family are probably ready for me to go back to Little Rock.) I’ve never been much of a hunter. Most of the qualities hunting seemingly entails, like being aggressive or sneaky (maybe I just imagine that you need these), go against the nature of my personality. I like to be at peace with my surroundings. I know, I know: I don’t need a lecture about the pros or cons of hunting. I’ve heard it all before; the majority of my extended family consists of avid hunters and I have nothing against it. Moreover, I always enjoy when deer season rolls around because it means I get to spend time with my dad. Growing up it wasn’t always that way. I looked forward to autumn for a different reason: it meant basketball season was near. While my dad spent his Saturday mornings in the deer woods, I was always practicing basketball, whether in the driveway or at school. Looking back I re...