" I shot him at the base of the brain. He quivered, looking ahead wide eyed, straining, then slowly all the life force slid from those eyes and his muscles lost their tension. He took one last, long, slow breath and died. I cried inside and out…. I want to sit here for another half-hour with the elk, as if at the bedside of an old friend. Just sit as I have done before and try to figure out why it is I do this. Kill and then mourn.8 There is a whole genre of this stuff, always with this same theme of killing and bereavement, killing and self-revulsion, killing and emptiness. The idea that just maybe killing is the problem, and it might be best to work it all out at home, take a little break from the blood sports to “figure out why it is I do this,” never seems to occur to them. Read enough hunting literature and you begin to suspect a deeper kind of self-display, the spiritual version of posing with one’s trophies. "

― Matthew Scully , Dominion: The Power of Man, the Suffering of Animals, and the Call to Mercy