Sheer Outrage

When you live in the country, hunters and hunting are a part of life. We own a decent amount of acreage, have lived here for thirteen years, and, every year, we still have random strangers pull up to our home, saunter down the sidewalk, say they knew my dad, and ask if they can hunt our land. The answer is always a solid no, and allow me to tell you why: I don't know you. Period. End of story.

First and foremost, I don't want armed strangers around my home, my family, and my animals. Secondly, I don't know your ethics or beliefs about sportsmanship. Third, I like all animals and don't want them hunted and thinned out to the point where I cannot enjoy the wildlife that surrounds me. 

In my experience, when one man asks if he can hunt, he always shows up with a bunch of buddies, thinking I will not mind. I do—a lot. In the rare event I give someone permission to hunt on my property, that permission begins and ends with you. It doesn't mean you get to invite everyone you consider a friend or acquaintance to come and hunt on my land. I will rudely ask you to leave. My second bone of contention is garbage. I've found garbage on my land that can only come from randos hunting on my property. I have this steadfast belief that one should leave a place better than they found it, especially if it is not one's own. Garbage, particularly, makes me angry because I view it as a lack of respect and slovenliness. Lastly and most importantly, I have a contentious relationship with hunting and hunters in general. Yes, my dad was a hunter, and he hunted for sport. Yes, I know that overpopulation is a threat, and illness, disease, and starvation are a harsher death than a skilled gunshot—notice I said skilled gunshot. In my experience, most "hunters" don't pick up a rifle until a few days before hunting season to sight in their gun. They don't practice on targets; they don't hone their skills. They sight in their gun and then go out to the woods, thinking they are the best shot in all of Pennsylvania. This laziness and lack of preparation result in my dog and me finding a wounded animal that has suffered for days or weeks with a debilitating gunshot wound. That pisses me off to no end. 

More than anything, I have an issue with the lack of sportsmanship I have seen in many. There is this belief that animals are less than. They don't feel fear, pain, experience trauma, feel loss, or experience grief. I see many with an attitude that an animal is there to be dominated by man. Hunting is exercising the right of man, a reward for being at the top of the food chain, and that the prey is to be overthrown by any means, and dominated with little to no respect. This attitude is why I do not allow just anyone to hunt on my property. 

Last Sunday, I saw with my own eyes the horrors of everything I just spoke about right over the hill of my beloved farm. We were driving to church and came upon a group of pickup trucks blocking the road. The fact that they were brazen enough to block the road tells you their lack of consideration. The group comprised seven to ten men and a pack of dogs, who were out coyote-hunting on my neighbor's property. Once they finally moved their trucks so we could get by after rudely signaling for us to wait, as if they had any jurisdiction over the road, we slowly drove past. To my horror, there was a wounded but alive coyote strapped to the roof of one of the trucks along with three or four deceased coyotes. 

I thought I saw the poor creature still breathing, but I was hoping it was just the wind blowing its fur about. Eric was driving, and when we passed, he said, "Jesus, that one's still alive!" He was outraged. I immediately began to sob and said, "Why would they do that? Why wouldn't they put the poor thing out of its misery?" Eric said, " Calm down, buddy." We then went on a tirade about the idiocy and cruelty of people. Had I had my wits about me, dear reader, I would have pulled out my phone and filmed the men, their faces, their license plate numbers, and that poor coyote. Unfortunately, I did not have my wits about me. Neither Eric nor I recognized anyone in the group. I am at a loss for what to do. I need to take action, but I'm not sure what to do. I do know that there will not be any coyote hunters on my property. If a predator gets too close, Eric will take care of it quickly and humanely. However, we have never had an issue with predators. We see the occasional young fox in the barn when the kits are pushed out of the den, but other than that, we never see anything near the house. We are fortunate, I know. 

But here is the thing: I don't believe any creature deserves to be run down by a pack of dogs. I don't believe any creature should suffer a gunshot wound and be left to expire for more than a few seconds or minutes at most. I don't believe an ethical hunter would strap a mortally wounded animal to the roof of his truck and call it good. These are not sportsmanlike behaviors. This scenario is animal cruelty and abuse. 

Coyotes have a bad reputation. I've heard people say they are evil creatures. They are not evil; they are predators. They rely and live on instinct alone. Their only goal is to survive. They don't plan to annihilate some farmers' chickens. They are not sitting in some coyote council plotting the demise of all humans. They are instinctively trying to survive and feed their family. Aren't we all? Is that not the basic goal of all creatures, including humans? They are not inherently evil, they don't hunt for sport, and they certainly don't enjoy inflicting pain and suffering. They are following their role in the natural order. So, don't come at me with they are evil, villainous creatures. Just stop. They are predators, plain and simple. 

Call me a bleeding heart, a tree hugger, a PETA freak, whatever, but right is right and wrong is wrong, and this was definitely wrong. This scenario only proves to me that a pack of men is far more dangerous than a pack of coyotes. It's people like this who give hunters a bad name. It's people like this that make me want to stay on my farm with my animals and limit my interactions with human beings. I just don't understand it, and it breaks my heart for the poor creature who was treated with no mercy or respect. 

On this lovely Monday, stay safe, be smart, wield your power with mercy, don't be an idiot, don't ask me to hunt on my property if I am not on a first-name basis with you, and keep washing your hands.