Stories 26/06/2025 01:28

The baby deer curled up next to a wooden deer model, seeking safety after its mother was taken away by hunters.

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Behind every hunt, there are stories we’d rather not see.
This photo is one of them: a baby deer nestled against a wooden decoy — something it mistook for its mother.
Small and fragile, it leaned close to that dummy as if searching for protection. Its eyes shone with pure trust, believing that “mother” would shield it from the lurking dangers.

But this isn’t a scene of love.
This could be part of a hunt, where that model wasn’t created to protect, but to lure.

And I wonder: as humans, how far have we gone to orphan living beings... all for a pastime?

My first feeling is outrage.
How could anyone look at that tiny creature and pull the trigger?
The baby deer didn’t choose to be born in a world where a mother’s love could become a trap.

But then I pause, because truth is always more complex than emotions.

Hunters contribute significantly to conservation efforts in many regions.
They often understand wildlife better than many of their critics.
Without regulated hunting, some species would grow out of control, destroy forests, and eventually starve or succumb to disease.

Many hunters eat what they hunt — connecting to their food more honestly than most of us, who buy pre-packaged meat from supermarkets.
They allow animals to live freely, instead of growing up in cramped factory farms.

With that perspective, maybe the little deer is luckier to live in a world with thoughtful hunters.

But what still troubles me is this: there is no entirely “right” choice.
Not hunting? — supports factory farming.
Hunting? — creates heartbreaking scenes like this.
Going vegan? — expands agriculture, deforests land.
Buying meat? — fuels a painful supply chain.

No matter which path we take, we leave a trace. Every choice comes with a cost.

Perhaps, what this baby deer is reminding us isn’t whether hunting is right or wrong.
But rather: why have we grown so disconnected from nature that we only approach it with control — or pity?

The deer doesn’t care for debates.
It just needs its mother, her milk, her warmth, her life. Simple and true things.

But what about us?
We chase logic, correctness, and winning arguments — complex and manmade things.

So instead of asking “right or wrong,” maybe we should ask:
How can we live more responsibly with the lives that surround us?

Because the baby deer is watching.
And we must choose: what will it see in humanity?

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