I’m a hunter! As often as possible I charge up the batteries in my Nikon and I clean off my 500milimeter lens and I stalk members of the animal kingdom. So it is with great sadness that I read about Cecil. I shall never get an opportunity to stalk and shoot this noble king of beasts. When my preciosa (a personal term of endearment for my domestic partner) told me about Cecil’s untimely death, I had my suspicions. My preciosa has been to Africa twice and is certain she saw Cecil. She was outraged that someone would be for brazen as to kill him. As she read to me the early reports, I had to wonder if old Cecil, a resident of a protected area had not been lured into an area where he could be shot. This I suspected would not be something his killer would have done, as his assassin was an American. We now know he’s a dentist from Minnesota. Having lived in a part of this nation where Big Game Hunting is a way of life, and baiting game animals is a common (if totally unethical) practice, I was confident as the facts immerged we all would learn that Cecil had been lured away from his safe National Park habitat with bait, there to be shot by an American trophy hunter. Sure enough that’s what happened. I’ve no sympathy for the good doctor from the Land of Lake Wobegon, where by the way, hunting is an annual occurrence that draws little attention from all those who have been protesting. The fact is that if Minnesota didn’t allow for some hunting, Mother Nature would have to step in and eventually reduce the overpopulation of deer in the grasslands that surround Lake Wobegon. That’s just the way it works. I have no sympathy for the doctor, but I’m confident that he didn’t go to Africa knowing that he would be shooting Cecil and that Cecil would be lured into the sights of his crossbow by corrupt locals. As much as we Progressives may abhor the old-school (Neanderthal) hunting, I’m confident that it will be with us for as long as there are Red Light Districts. In fact, hunting, as a profession, may in fact pre-date prostitution, but that’s a diary for another day. That said, I shall be channeling my anger into efforts to ban (worldwide) the baiting of game animals, beginning with the banning of baiting of bears by hunters. If you want to be a Neanderthal hunter in the digital age, you should be compelled to actually go out and find your victims in a habitat where they just might get you before you can get them. As for Lake Wobegon’s Great Pale Hunter, I suspect he’ll move to Idaho, where hunting has more ardent supporters than in the increasingly gentrified Minnesota. He will build a new practice, maybe not as profitable as his last, but certainly among more understanding neighbors and he will continue his passion for killing big animals. Hopefully, he will have learned to confirm with his guides that the trophy he’s seeking hasn’t been lured into his sights with bait. And yes, if you consider my use of bird feeders as baiting, I have used the practice myself to lure animals into range of my Nikon’s 500mm lens. But no, I’ve never used the bait one needs to lure lions, tigers or bears.
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