“I forget the rest of the gym and the victors and how miserable I am and lose myself in the shooting. When I manage to take down five birds in one round, I realize it’s so quiet I can hear each one hit the floor. I turn and see the majority of the victors have stopped to watch me. Their faces show everything from envy to hatred to admiration.”
“Heart pounding, adrenaline burning through me, everyone is my enemy. Except Gale. My hunting partner, the person who has my back. There’s nothing to do but move forward, killing whoever come into our path.”
“There is a patience of the wild—dogged, tireless, persistent as life itself—that holds motionless for endless hours the spider in its web, the snake in its coils, the panther in its ambuscade; this patience belongs peculiarly to life when it hunts its living food.”
“His mind was crowded with memories; memories of the knowledge that had come to them when they closed in on the struggling pig, knowledge that they had outwitted a living thing, imposed their will upon it, taken away its life like a long satisfying drink.”
“We start out a million years ago in a small community on some grassy plain; we hunt animals, have children, and develop a rich social, sexual, and intellectual life, but we know almost nothing about our surroundings.”
“They would remain until the bark ran out, then travel north past the wolves’ territory, and perhaps into the faerie lands of Prythian - where no mortals would dare go, not unless they had a death wish.”
“Most beasts are quite friendly, but still, in some lands, some beasts are too dangerous to catch with bare hands. For those that are ugly and vicious and mean I’ll build a Bad-Animal-Catching-Machine. It’s rather expensive to build such a kit, but with it a hunger can never get bit.”
“Now the one thing that Mr. Gregg and his two boys loved to do more than anything else was to go hunting. Every Saturday morning they would take their guns and go off into the woods to look for animals and birds to shoot. Even Philip, who was only eight years old, had a gun of his own.”
“The Great Storm-Cat grew quiet: gone was his hunger for hunting, for making his meal of the mice-men.
Only the pleasure of the purring remained.
Then the Great Storm-Cat began to purr with Mowzer, and as the soft sound grew, the winds waned and the waves weakened.”
“As she listened to his wailing, Mowzer felt a sudden strange sadness for him. How lonely he must be, she thought, endlessly hunting the men-mice in the deeps of darkness, and never returning to the rosy glow of a red-hot range. And her kind heart was moved to comfort him.”
“Fog Benson had captured him when the cub was six months old. He had killed Ben’s mother and brought the young bear to town to show him off. And because Ben had cried for hours for his lost mother, Fog had laughingly named him ‘Squeaky Ben,’ after a local character with a querulous voice. As the cub grew and it became apparent his size would be tremendous, the ‘Squeaky’ part was dropped.”
“Storm Boy” explores the relationship between a boy and his friend, even when the friend is a pelican, as well as touching on hunting, conservation, and the isolation, remoteness, and hardships of parts of Australia.
“From far away there came a deep rolling sound, and a screaming cheer. The otter instantly returned to her cubs and stood over them in a protective attitude, for she knew that hounds were hunting the water.”