Well, here is a column that I certainly never thought I would be writing, but after reading assorted comments on a recent Facebook post, I feel like I have to throw my 2 cents in. Take them for what they are worth.

Essentially, the gist of the post was that someone who uses a local recreational area for one activity, hiking, encountered another person who uses it for a different activity, hunting.

The questioning and informative nature of the original post was quickly lost to the comment section. As I have friends who enjoy both activities and that area, I got to see both sides of the argument as they chose to share the original post. The hikers and the animal lovers were outraged that the senseless murder of animals is allowed at all, much less in a place where they want to be, and the hunters’ comments were along the lines of clueless green freaks were lucky they didn’t get shot.

Honestly, both arguments made me sad and frustrated because they seemed to be indicative of the split in our country overall. There was little to no effort in many cases to understand either of the other side’s point of view, and after a bunch of name-calling, both sides just wanted the other side to disappear. The truth is, though, both groups need each other, and all our recreation areas are usually better for the efforts of both.

I grew up on a farm. From the time I was small, I understood that some animals were meant to be eaten. I didn’t love it, especially the part where my younger brother would torment me by telling me that (insert favorite animal name here) tasted delicious when we were at the dinner table, but I grew to understand that animals had a purpose. I convinced myself that there was almost a nobility to their lives, supporting and sustaining ours.

Then, I went to college, where I was asked by fellow students why we needed farms when we could just get our food from the grocery store. I quickly realized that they weren’t joking. These were intelligent people, and these were honest questions. These were people who had never seen an actual cow before and could make no correlation between the white stuff in the plastic jug or the squiggly pink meat in the Styrofoam container. The connection between animals and food isn’t one that is as obvious to some as it may have been a hundred years ago.

Living next to state game lands meant adapting our lifestyle to the rhythms of hunting season, donning our orange just to go out and play in the backyard, or avoiding our regular hiking spots for a few weeks out of the year. It also meant watching carefully for trespassers and warning them off as quickly as possible. Hunting was a necessity, but it wasn’t for me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t coexist. When trappers took out the coyotes that had tormented our flock of sheep, I even rejoiced.

Then I met Steve. Until he had kids, hunting was the most important thing in Steve’s life. Everything else that he did was only to support his hunting habit. My dad joked that I’d never have to worry about him cheating, drinking or gambling; hunting took up all his time and money. I had some reservations about someone who was so into killing stuff and guns being the person for me. Loving him meant I had to find a way to live with the hunting in a very personal way.

Steve made it easy. Safety was paramount. He was always careful to follow all rules and regulations, always wore the correct gear, and made sure those hunting with him followed the same rules. Even on his wildest adventures, Steve always had a plan.

Steve was also an ethical hunter. He never killed just for a trophy. He made sure that he ate everything he killed or could give it to someone who needed it. Anyone who ever attended one of the game dinners Steve hosted at St. Cyril’s could tell you that he was always dreaming up new ways to prepare and use the animals he shot. Also, Steve came home empty-handed a lot more than he ever brought anything home, which I think most true hunters will tell you is usually the case. That’s because the hunt is not just about what you bring home.

I saw this in action the first year after Steve died. G went out hunting a lot. He brought home almost nothing except video of all the things he saw in the woods. At first I was concerned that he might have lost his mojo, but I soon came to realize that it was a way for him to process things and he needed that time alone in the wood with his memories. The next season, he was ready to take his shot. Although I have yet to shoot anything, and doubt that I will any time soon, getting my hunting license and accompanying G on his youth hunts, and working with Duncan in the field, has opened my eyes to the many benefits of hunting that are unrelated to actually killing animals.

We are all lucky to have the recreational areas that we do, but it takes money, whether it’s tax dollars or entrance fees, to sustain them and keep them functional. Like it or not, the hunters keep the nuisance animals like bears from overrunning us and come summer and the beach closures due to high bacteria levels, it’s not such a bad idea to keep the waterfowl population under control as well.

Of course there are unethical hunters, just as there are those who hike and vandalize, litter and don’t police their dogs. The good people in both communities should not suffer because of those bad apples.

In this age when AI and virtual realities are taking up way too much space in people’s brains, those of us who love and appreciate the outdoors should band together, even when we might have different visions of what outdoor recreation means.

Liz Pinkey’s column appears on Saturdays in the Times News