Once again it's time for the annual Utah harvest. This idea of harvest however, is quite contrary to what it sounds like.
A beautiful fall morning, he fills his lungs with a breath of fresh, crisp air from his mountain home. He can smell the faint scent of pine and juniper on the air. A soft breeze gently rustles the aspen leaves which have not yet fallen to add their beauty to the blanket of gold covering the forest floor before him. With his next breath he detects a scent familiar to him which strikes fear in his heart. His heart begins to race and his breathing is rapid with fear. He hears something pass just in front of his chest which strikes the aspen next him with a thud as bark and wood fly off the trunk.He is too terrified to think about where he will run to, he just runs. His legs carry him swiftly over the fallen trees and through the brush as his heart beats ever faster with terror. Suddenly he bursts through the trees into a small opening, he stops for a moment to breathe, his heart pounding in his chest. He sees an opening and turns to run again. At that moment, he feels something hit him hard in the side and his legs collapse under him, he falls to the ground unable to move. He picks up his head and tries to get on his feet to run again, he cannot.
His body is now filled with the agony of piercing pain as his blood flows from his heart onto the ground through the opening torn into his flesh from the hunter's bullet. As he lies dying in the pool of his own blood, he does not understand what is happening to him. He only knows he is afraid. This is what we call "harvesting" in Utah. The wanton blood lust of people who have the gall to call themselves "sportsmen." Why is it so many people think the act of killing is an honorable behavior? Why is it OK to kill anything that isn't human?
Let's at least call it what it is, killing, not harvesting.
Greg A. Underwood
Salt Lake City