It started with a conversation over lunch a couple of weeks back with Monique and Ferdinand, friends of Keli. As part of my continuing attempts to understand the strange Canadians I bump into everyday I thought I would tackle the subject of hunting. I mean hunting? Canadians are nice to the point of extinction, probably the most inoffensive nation on earth? But over lunch I discovered that Monique’s family are hunters, and that both her and Ferdinand use their own guns to hunt deer, elk and moose during the fall. This I had to see.

We arrive at the Klein’s workshop to find Mrs Klein, aged 73, chiselling Elk blood and flesh off the table of an industrial bandsaw that could have cut a Mini Metro in two straight down the middle. Dressed in a 1950s pink blouse and trouser combo. Hair curled and set to perfection. Green sparkling eye shadow, dark eye-liner extending to the side, blusher on her cheeks.  She takes one look at Keli and grabs her in a big hug, chisel in one hand, bleach rag in the other.

Pelts hang all around the workshop, some killed by the Klein’s and others by customers waiting for Mr Klein to turn them into a fur coat or a handbag. Mr Klein explodes through the door, a giant of a man with hands like shovels and a belly built with meat he stalked, killed, butchered himself. A man of a previous age, with a touch of a bully or slave driver in him. Thoroughly Austrian, with a think accent, he bellowed at Mrs Klein and slapped me around the workshop encouraging me to laugh at his jokes. They were both wonderful.

We spent an hour with them, and after a few minutes talking in the workshop Monique led us upstairs to the trophy room where Mr Klein hangs his personal collection of heads and full bodies, and where he sells pelts and stuffed animals to the public. I was amazed. All four walls of the room were lined with mounted heads. The old pool table was buried in layers of bear, wolf, coyote, elk, and deer pelts. A stuffed cat in a basket sat on a sofa, awaiting collection by a loving owner who couldn’t let go. One wall section held the results of Africa on a hunting trip in the 70s: hippo, zebra, antelope heads, and a chess table held up by an elephant foot. The elephant had died of natural causes, and Mr Klein had purchased the foot.

Bears are only considered a problem in Canada when they’ve learned how to enter your house and open your fridge to get at the goodies. Until then they’re easy to live alongside. A bear on your sofa, drinking a warm beer and watching a movie is cool. If the beer is cool however, the bear is not. Mr Klein conversed passionately about Parks and Wildlife in BC, who kill the offending bears to protect the population, but then just dump the carcass in landfill. These were people who have survived a war, and understood what is was to live on very little. Meat is precious, and meat killed, butchered, and cooked by your own hand is optimum.

I love Canada. I’m so at home in its wild terrain and expansive landscapes. The seasons here are so potent, from long warm Okanagan summers to cold crisp Whistler winters. As I listened to the Kleins talk about how they used every part of the animals, and that they had 6 chest freezers full of meat that they had butchered themselves I got so excited about hunting and the prospect of sustaining myself without relying on Tescos.

Hunting for sport without an appreciation or need for the meat, or hunting species that are endangered, I have a problem with. But spending a long weekend tracking moose in northern BC. Learning about the habits of the animal, learning how to kill the animal with minimal suffering, carrying the carcass out to your truck with your own hands. It’s the disconnection from the reality of meat eating that I find offensive, not the reality of killing animals.

We headed up to Monique and Ferdinand’s for a long evening of wine, laughter and beautiful moose steaks. I felt so privileged to have met the Kleins and be welcomed into their very special home. One more step along the journey of my Canadian education, and other lesson on sustainable living that convinces me that turning our attention to growing our own food, and reconnecting with the reality of a diet that includes meat is essential if we plan to continue living on this planet for more than a decade or two more.

Next time it’s fitness and exercise, that thought is coming together. I’m gutted I didn’t have a camera to show you some of the incredible sights in the trophy room. I’m hatching a plan to return for a visit and take some shots of me wrestling grizzly bears!