(This sounds like the start to some sort of parable, doesn’t it? It’s not. Well, not really anyway.)

All three men had their lines in the water, and, as I watched from the bank, the line closest to the boat’s motor sprang to life. The line’s owner tugged and tweaked it, then hoisted the dripping fish from the water. It wasn’t huge, but big enough that the middle man opened the boat’s storage container before the hook was even out of the fish’s mouth. The catcher removed the hook and tossed the fish into the bin, turning back to the motor before the middle man had even dropped the lid.

Without pause, the man baited his hook again and slung it back into the water. I stared for a moment and wondered what happened to the fanfare. Isn’t a person supposed to celebrate a success like catching a fish on a relatively quiet fishing day? None of the other lines were wiggling, so it seemed like it might be worth a little revelry. But none of the men reacted, and the motion of it all was so fluid, it was as if it never happened – I wouldn’t have realized it had if I’d blinked a little longer than usual.

If I ever caught a fish or shot a duck, I would celebrate. (Of course, I wouldn’t do either of those things, because it’s not who I am, but we’re speaking hypothetically here.) I would take a few moments, examine my quarry and be so excited about my accomplishment. Maybe after years of catching fish, the sparkle of another tug on the line has faded. But I imagine, even those who live off the land, who catch a hundred fish a week to feed their families, still pause to reflect each time, if for no other reason than to show respect for the life sacrificed to save another. I think it’s that link to the earth that these men, and many others, have lost sight of.

I respect people’s interests, and their desire to pursue game of all shapes and sizes, but I can’t respect people who don’t respect the animals they hunt, kill and consume. Maybe you don’t believe a fish has feelings, friends or family, but he’s part of the circle of life, of the earth you live in, of a bigger picture than just your boat, your line, your day at the lake. Respect that and the earth will respect you.