Yesterday, the Major and I took a trip to Cabela's, which is billed as one of Kansas's primary tourist attractions.

Yet Cabela's is not a scenic beauty spot, nor a historic site. It is a shop. A hunting, fishing and camping emporium to be precise. Nevertheless, round here, that is a major attraction. Despite heavy snow, when we went, the parking lot was almost full - mostly of trucks, drive by lumberjack-wearing farmers, eager to kill things.

As you go into Cabela's, you are confronted with three enormous statues of antelope. The Major whispered that if they were that size in real-life, the people around here would probably try to bomb them. And having visited Cabela's, I have to concur.

The first thing I saw as we walked in was an eight-year-old child with a dangerous-looking crossbow. The child was fat. He had a murderous gleam in his eye. His father was pushing a shopping trolley piled high with hunting and sporting equipment. He too was fat. Oh the irony.

We pushed on into the aquarium area. Bored-looking fish glided around in their tiny enclosures. One was an extraordinary looking specimen, with various bulbous protruberances emerging from his face. But he wasn't as extraordinary as the girl who was pointing at him and laughing. Bulbous is not the word. Or rather it is, but on a far larger scale than the fish. The horror.

And on it went. Through the speedboat section, where you could spend thousands of dollars on a state of the art model in which to go fishing. Into the apparel area, where camouflage junkies could get a serious fix - full body suit with built-in waders, anyone? Into hunting, which started off with decoys and hides and segued on to guns - lots of them - row after row of rifles, crossbows, shotguns - anything, in fact, that you could load up and kill with. They had quite a few pink models, presumably to cater for the female hunting population in Kansas.

To be fair, there were less killing-related sections - like homeware, where you could buy a toothbrush holder shaped like a labrador or a fake bearskin rug for the sitting room. But that area was fairly deserted. The main action was all in the killing sections.

It was an insight into the Kansas way of life. And don't get me wrong, I'm not against killing animals per se - I'm not a vegetarian and can appreciate the joys of a day out in the fresh air pitting your wits against a wild duck, or some grouse or whatever. But I do have a bit of a problem with the American way of doing things, which basically appears to be, lure the animals in with lots of food, sit in a hide and then blast the hell out of them. Where's the sport in that? And seeing an eight year old with a lethal crossbow is frankly, terrifying. Especially if shooting said instrument isn't even going to give him any exercise. Perhaps we should all start hunting fat children instead...