The Internet doesn’t need yet another diatribe against the dentist who tortured Cecil the Lion for forty interminable hours by shooting him with an arrow and then tracking him for more than a day and a half, drop by bloody drop, to locate him again and put him out of his misery. There aren’t enough vitriolic words in the English language to adequately explain my horror as the story came to light. As a lifelong animal advocate and environmentalist, I find so much vile in this sordid saga that words fail me…only my gut can adequately express what I’m feeling, and it is giving me fits…has been ever since this happened.
First of all, I think trophy hunting sucks. I can understand hunting for food. I can understand indigenous tribes’ hunting for sustenance. I can’t understand anyone who would kill an animal for sport, stand next to the victim with a stupid grin on his or her face, and then mount the victim for display.
Look at the language of animal death. Hunters “take” animals, a bastardized substitute for the word KILL. ‘Taking’ sounds serene and gentle. It relieves the killer of his or her guilt, perhaps–but not of his or her bloody act. No one should enjoy–seek out–look forward to ending an animal’s existence–not even a freaking mosquito, let alone a mammal with a prefrontal cortex and all of the emotions and reactions of the mammal called man/woman/child. Misery hurts; pain is something all mammals (and most other creatures) feel.
I refuse to call an animal “it” as so many people do, and as English teachers teach; I firmly believe that animals are sentient beings with souls, not inanimate objects. A knife can be an ‘it’, as can a tree or a car or a blouse. A living being with a gender deserves to be classified as something other than an inanimate object. Any other protocol makes it too damned easy to assume (as we all-too-often do) that we can use an animal the way we use a tool or utensil–without regard for his or her sentience and intelligence. Fie on that!
Am I am animal rights advocate? No. I’m an animal welfare advocate. I think we were given dominion over the earth and its inhabitants (if, indeed, the biblical story has merit) and that we were expected to treat it (and them) the way benevolent, compassionate kings and queens practice dominion over their kingdoms. I don’t think we have carte blanche to rape, pillage and destroy what has been entrusted to our care.
I have no idea what will happen to the perpetrators. I am glad to see Zimbabwe putting a stop to all trophy hunting of the big cats and elephants on all but private preserves, and outlawing bow hunting, but I would like to see the practice ended altogether. Just because creatures don’t have a name, a collar, and an Internet and scientific following the way Cecil did doesn’t justify killing them.
Let’s grow up, people. There is no honor in assassinating animals who are out there living their lives, raising families, and blessing the planet with their presence. For every “man-eater”, there are scores of lions, tigers and other large cats and wild dogs who have no interest whatsoever in “taking” us down. Only hunters have bought that malarkey. The people tasked with preserving the big cats and elephants walk among them with respect, cell phones and tracking devices and rarely experience dangerous or deadly repercussions. (Which is not to say that communing with wild animals is a lark; certain protocols must be followed to ensure the animals’ fight-or-flight instincts aren’t engaged by amateur, clueless naturalists.)
It’s the sociopaths among us who consider wild animals decidedly perverse and unfailingly predatory. If wild animals were as out to get us as some would have you believe, I assure you we never would have made it as a species considering how outnumbered we were by them in the beginning.
I respect animals. (I’m a tree hugger, not a bear hugger.) That said, I think we need to stop killing for sport… Many of my best friends have been animals. The rest (the humans) have all been animal advocates. I’ve always been in good company!
My “serval son” Deaken Edward Smith and Auroara Lion
Copyrighted photos by Kristine M. Smith and Edward E. Smith
Used with permission.
LEO
In ancient Greece they tamed you
And you spent your sleep
In a human’s bed,
Content to be content.
In ancient Rome, they starved you
And fed you Christians
In huge arenas of blood,
Born of your need and man’s perversity.
In Africa today you are feared,
Shot, stabbed, sacrificed,
To Preserve cattle
And Mistaken notions of Manhood.
In America you are enclosed, enraged,
In a small pit, or a cage, often ignored,
Or else on some hunter’s mantle
The pride of his massive collection.
Is your life getting better? Or only shorter,
As your numbers decrease
And your few benefactors
Talk to the walls of an indifferent world?
What has happened to you
Between the ancient Greek custom of taming you
And the modern tradition of decimating you?
Perhaps a better question might be:
WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO US???
©1980, 2011 by Kristine M. Smith
LION
The thunder of your awesome voice
Reverberates through every nerve,
Every stone, each blade of grass
Until I am certain no one on the planet has missed it.
But most have.
Most that felt your roar lost their egos and their nerve,
And set forth to conquer you, in some ancient Rite of Manhood
To prove to themselves that the fear they felt was a mistake.
The rest, who never heard you at all,
Who have no time to care,
Who ignore even the cataclysm that is your voice—
These are the ones who most desperately need your society.
You are strong, yet gentle.
Your power is great—but your heart is even greater.
Let the timbre of your roar reach us in the cities
To remind us:
No man made you. And nothing he has made can equal you.
Teach us what you have always known:
Teach us what absolute power there is in gentleness
And how gentleness must be a part of absolute power.
In order to survive—we must hear your voice
Reverberate through every nerve, every stone, each blade of grass
Until we are certain that no one on the planet has missed it.
©1980, 2011 Kristine M. Smith
Find more animal poems and prose by Kristine M. Smith at
http://www.amazon.com/Dawn-That-Animals-Cannot-Share/dp/0692297901
