ICELAND
Part of me yearns to tell you a story about how hunting has been an entirely natural evolution for me. How I come from generations of hunters, where I was taught as a toddler how to differentiate highland goose droppings from a greylag’s.
My story is not of that kind. The ironic part is that I had a perfect opportunity to seek this knowledge from my parents — especially from my dad, who is an avid fly fisherman, exceptionally knowledgeable about birds, and a great outdoorsman. As a child, I partook in various outdoor activities with my family, and we were accustomed to eating fresh fish from the river and seasonal vegetables. Wild game was always a favorite of mine, but due to how hard it was for non-hunters to obtain, it was only served on rare occasions. Wild goose was my all-time favorite, and sometimes my parents received a few as a gift from one of their hunter friends. I remember thinking how extremely lucky his kids were to be able to feast on those more than a few times a year. Still, the thought of being able to provide wild meat for myself never occurred to me, and not having a female role model in hunting or fishing probably played a huge part in that thought process. Even though nature and the outdoors had an influential role in my childhood, somehow my path led in another direction.
By the time I met my husband, Gunnar, I was in my early 20s and completely disconnected from nature. I had burned the previous five years living in a small studio apartment in the city, binge-watching TV series and spending time doing other unproductive activities — a condition many young people can relate to. The rest of my waking hours
