I've always considered myself a sort of tree-hugger. Not one of the hyper-fanatic, ultra-liberal tree-huggers that get the label these days; just someone who believes that other lifeforms besides humans deserve respect. I try not to kill and destroy anything unnecessarily. If I can find a different way of doing something, or an alternative plan that preserves life and harmony with nature, then I will.
But after a year of being tripped, beaten, whipped, cut, stabbed, pummeled and thrown to the ground by brush and scrub... well, I've gotten a little callous. Justifiably so, I think. Seriously, being assaulted by the forest on a daily basis can make any sane person get a hankering for a little pay back. I must admit to feeling a certain amount of vengeful glee when I run the 10" carbide blade of my new brushcutter through a gnarled clump of creeping willow because that little bastard has tripped me for the last time! I feel an urge to giggle maniacally when I'm feeding a mass of alder saplings through the chipper because those little bastards have whipped and torn my face for the last time!
I still repect Nature, and I still try not to kill anything unless it's necessary... but sometimes you just have to fight back and protect yourself. Should I feel bad about my new killing lust? Does it mean that I'm an evil person? Nah.... Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do. I figure as long as I'm not killing everything all around me indiscriminately and still trying to pick my path so that I can preserve and conserve as much as possible, Nature will forgive my occasional murderous rampage.