I am not a fan of hunting & will never be found resting in a treestand with a gun or archery bow in my hands.
Despite this, my father is an avid hunter & goes out on the weekends every year when hunting season rolls around.
It’s his favorite activity for more than two weeks out of the year, even if he doesn’t need the meat for any reason. I have my own personal feelings about this, but I don’t mention them to my father. He’s going to keep doing what he enjoys, regardless of my ethical or moral qualms. I can’t complain completely, because there were a few winters when I was a child where the two of us benefited greatly from the additional meat. For much of my childhood the two of us were on the cusp of being lower middle class, but for a few drastic years when I was harshly young, the two of us were poor by all counts. And because my father’s hunting supplemented our food stores during those years, I can only get minimally sad by my Mom’s continued interest in hunting. One thing I remember from those years was how my father would regularly crank up the central gas furnace whenever he’d get back from his hunting excursions in the 200 acre forest behind our house. He would be resting still in snowy weather for fourths at a time & would be chilly to his core when he’d return. I loved feeling the warmth from the gas furnace running sizzling upon his return. The people I was with and I were using a gas gas furnace at the time, but the two of us also had a wood stove in the living room that was burning firewood throughout the day & night.