I hunted some when I was young. Squirrels, mostly. With shotgun and .22 rifle. Was much better with the rifle. Hunted rabbits a few times, but don't care for it much. Killed one with a shotgun once just out of pure reaction: I was walking through a sort of farm machinery graveyard trying to recall if I had lead or steel shot loaded when a rabbit jumped, and I jumped, and the gun went off. Weird part is that I had the gun at thirty degrees down, pointed groundward instead of skyward as usual. One (1) pellet of shot went straight up the rabbit's anus and out its neck. The stench of that rabbit kept me from ever hunting them again! I also hunted dove one season. That was very enjoyable, and quite delicious as well.

On the other hand, I love to fish. Haven't been in a couple years (spending the money on other things).

My two or three attempts at deer hunting were not memorable.

I did murder an opossum once with a 5 iron. That was grisly. I chased him about 20 yards thinking maybe it was kind of savage of me. But then he turned and bared his teeth at me and hissed in a very catlike manner. Which recalled to me the purpose of my chasing him: to keep him from eating the food we were leaving out for feral cats (to keep the rat population in check . . .). Anyway, I felt at that point that we were at war and decided to win. It's really a disgusting thing when you slam a hunk of iron into a beast and the blood sprays up across your bare chest. I wanted to puke. And then out comes my wife at the time with a paper grocery bag and we shove this 22# lump into a sack. She was proud of me; I hated her for it, as it was her idea in the first place. Blood spatter really freaked me out. Even the memory of it now makes my stomach flip-flop. Never felt that way hunting for food - it was just part of the process.

I have a tip for anyone attacked by a goose.  (I'm not kidding, I discovered this trick when I had to deal with an "attack goose" at a farm I visited frequently.)

Stand up as tall as you can, spread your "wings" out wide, hiss at the goose and advance slowly.  I'm glad no one had a video camera handy, but I convinced that self-important bird that I was a bigger, meaner critter than he was.  After the first two times, he left me alone while still terrorizing everyone else. 

On the subject of sport hunting   , I'll keep my mouth firmly closed.