Tag Archives: trumpeter swan

Sport Hunting and Hobby Eating

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Text and photo copyright Jim Robertson

Okay, so there’s sometimes more to sport hunting than just mindless plunking away at innocent, undeserving animals. Besides the selfish, sociopathic satisfaction they get out of snuffing out their fellow sentient beings, some hunters are also motivated by the prospect of eating the flesh of their conquests.

These so-called “sportsmen” (or women) are not starving or suffering in any way (outside of being burdened with a low self esteem) at the time they commit their offenses; they just have a peckish for something perversely pleasurable to them. Case in point, here’s a description, in a hunters’ own words, of how much he enjoyed consuming the flesh of a scarce, embattled trumpeter swan: “You would think it would be goosey, but it’s more ducky, tight grained, very flavorful. The fat was delicious. I plucked it all the way to the chin and used the neck as a sausage skin.” (From the article, “Utah hunters killed 20 rare trumpeter swans by accident this year. Here’s why that matters.”)

Clearly, some of these sport-eaters fancy themselves gourmets and may even pride themselves in their abilities to turn a deceased carcass into a delectable feast, but the same could probably have been said about Jeffery Dahmer and his unfortunate victims.

Serial Killer Robert Hunter and victim

And the fictional serial killer (based on an actual doctor incarcerated in Mexico), Hannibal Lecter displayed typical hunter-bravado when bragged to FBI agent Clarice Starling: “A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chiani.”

Sorry to tell self-excusatory sportsmen and other unapologetic killers, murder does not magically become sacred once your victims’ flesh passes through your digestive tract.

Duck Dynasty’s Evil is Spreading

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Some folks may be wondering why we let ourselves get worked up over a stupid faux “reality” TV show like Duck Dynasty; what harm are they doing by showing their hairy mugs for money and attention (and a lot of both). Well, I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it: their idiocy seems to be catching.

In all the years I’ve lived by this waterfowl wintering area, people have been respectful of the No Hunting Access sign. Now you find spent shotgun shells along the road overlooking the bay–a sure sign that bozo Robertson wanna-bes are shooting out at ducks who take refuge in the calm waters there.

And just today a boat full of duck hunters motored their boat through a flock of 100

—Text and Wildlife Photography ©Jim Robertson, 2013. All Rights Reserved

—Text and Wildlife Photography ©Jim Robertson, 2013

trumpeter swans, driving them across the river to an island infested with hunters shooting from their duck blinds.

It only takes a few boneheads to ruin it for everyone–especially if they have their own TV show.

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Sunday Go-a-Huntin’ Day

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Living near prime wildlife habitat means that at any given moment you might get to see Vs of migratory ducks or cackling Canada geese flying right overhead. If you’re lucky, trumpeter swans might be among the waterfowl feeding and calling in the nearby estuary. And wood ducks or hooded mergansers might pay your inland pond a visit while searching for a quiet place to nest.
The down side of living near a natural wonderland? Being awakened Sunday morning at first light by the repeated volley of shotgun blasts, as though all-out war has been declared on all things avian (as is currently happening this morning). The Elmers out there (no doubt dressed in the latest expensive camo-pattern—a fashion statement apparently meant to impress the other Elmers out there) must be reveling in the fact that the dense morning fog allows them to “sneak” (in their loud outboard motor boats) up close enough to the flocks so that a large number of birds will end up dead, winged or otherwise wounded when they stand up and spray lead.

Duck hunting is the ultimate betrayal. It happens well into the winter, long after about other any hunting season is over, when the birds are congregated in flocks on their wintering grounds. And it happens often on lands supposedly set aside as wildlife “refuges.” Pro-kill groups like Ducks Unlimited (DU—an acronym, or perhaps an abbreviation for “duh”) insist that they have the animals’ best interests in mind. But when it comes right down to it, all they really want to preserve land for is to have a playground for killing (just listen to them scream if you try to propose a refuge closed to hunting).

Interestingly, they always seem to choose Sunday as their special day for bird killing. It’s no secret that most American hunters count themselves as good Christians. In choosing to hunt in lieu of church this time of year, they must feel closest to their gods in the killing fields.

How is this any different than a follower of Santeria sacrificing chickens? Both practices are equally bloody and violent. And the practice of Sunday go-a-duck-huntin’ probably claims more victims.
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