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Originally posted in December 2021


The cartoon below does not seem the slightest bit 
like fiction to me.
  
I heard the heart-wrenching, spiritually devastating, 
unending wailing of a pheasant whose mate Bart 
-- who was completely domesticated -- had killed for 
sport while I was out of sight.

My dogs have always known that they are not allowed 
to take one step towards wildlife.  He was strongly
scolded -- apparently strongly enough -- as there 
were no further tragedies.

Hunting creates devastating emotional suffering.

Roughly speaking:

Without hunting, wildlife populations eventually self-
regulate.  The proclivity to breed is dependent on the 
environment.  With planning, our farms would survive; 
and all lives would be better.  We can co-exist better 
with wildlife if we were more willing.

The DNR plants crops solely for the purpose of spurring
excessive population growth of deer so that people can
shoot them for pleasure.

As an aside:

The meat from recreational hunting is costing hunters 
60 dollars per pound, not including expenses for
hunting property, hunting cabins/shacks, hunting trailers
or time spent on the activity or time spent traveling.

Even the most efficient hunter cannot compete with the
cost of eggs or milk (or livestock meat) when they walk 
away with 70 pounds of venison -- with the costs of 
lying in wait, hauling, butchering, making cuts, 
wrapping and storing.

The meat from recreational fishing is costing fishers
830 dollars per pound, not including time spent on the
activity or time spent traveling.

The money issue is an aside, as the term "recreational" 
is hard to accept.  Long ago, I had the experience of 
casting into shore as part of rock-bass fishing, and it 
was a bit of fun -- much like playing horseshoe.  But it's
not fun for the fish, who did not sign up for it.

It's bad enough that there is carnivorism, and bad enough 
that humans ever hunted or fished to survive.  But sport?  
Even "catch and release" fishing causes extreme trauma 
during the capture as well as frequent episodes of 
agonizing death after fish are released.

My uncle Lester hunted annually his entire life.  Then, 
at age 82, he had a doe in his rifle-sight when he 
suddenly saw the doe for what she was and couldn't pull 
the trigger.


Little Audrey and her air rifle

4 min 23 sec

Set media player volume to 100 and speaker volume to 20.

Cartoon begins two seconds after clicking "play".





I simply cannot understand this:



"I guarantee you he can't shoot 
pheasants like I can" - Tim Walz



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