Would Jeffrey Dahmer be considered ethical just because he ate those he murdered?
Elk - ©
Jim Robertson,
Animals in the Wild
Enough of this championing one type of hunter over the other
already! It just helps perpetuate the myth of the “ethical hunter.”
You’re more likely to see a UFO land in the middle of a crop circle
than to meet a hunter who is truly ethical to the animals he kills.
How can tracking down an inoffensive creature and blasting it out of
existence ever really be ethical anyway? No matter how a hunter may
rationalize, or claim to give thanks to the animal’s spirit, the
dying will never see their killer’s acts as the least bit honorable.
I’m sure Ted Nugent considers himself an ethical hunter. Hell, Ted
Bundy likely thought himself an ethical serial killer. But to their
victims they’re just murderous slobs. Likewise, Teddy Roosevelt—who,
in his two-volume African Game Trails, lovingly muses over shooting
elephants, hippos, buffaloes, lions, cheetahs, leopards, giraffes,
zebras, hartebeest, impalas, pigs, the not-so-formidable 30-pound
steenbok and even a mother ostrich on her nest—considered himself an
exceedingly ethical hunter.
All hunters, whether they call it an act of sport or subsistence,
eat what they kill (or at least give the meat away to others). Would
Jeffrey Dahmer be considered ethical just because he ate those he
murdered? Though some get more pleasure out of the dirty deed of
killing than others, no hunter would even be out there doing it if
they didn’t get some joy out of the act of stalking and “bagging”
their prey. But there are less destructive ways to get your kicks
and healthier, less costly sources of nourishment than
cholesterol-laden, carcinogenic rotting flesh.
Though they may not take trophies or photographs of themselves with
their kill, nearly everyone who hunts gets some kind of a thrill
when boasting about their conquest or sharing the spoils at the
neighborhood barbeque.
In my book,
Exposing the Big Game: Living Targets of a Dying Sport, I quote Farley Mowat, the
sagacious naturalist and author of the 1963 trendsetter, Never Cry
Wolf, whose firsthand insight into the hunter mindset should lay to
rest the myth of the “ethical hunter.”
“Almost all young children have a natural affinity for other
animals…When I was a boy growing up on the Saskatchewan prairies,
that feeling of affinity persisted—but it became perverted. Under my
father’s tutelage I was taught to be a hunter; taught that
‘communion with nature’ could be achieved over the barrel of a gun;
taught that killing wild animals for sport establishes a mystic
bond, ‘an ancient pact’ between them and us.
“I learned first how to handle a BB gun, then a .22 rifle and
finally a shotgun. With these I killed ‘vermin’—sparrows, gophers,
crows and hawks. Having served that bloody apprenticeship, I began
killing ‘game’—prairie chicken, ruffed grouse, and ducks. By the
time I was fourteen, I had been fully indoctrinated with the
sportsman’s view of wildlife as objects to be exploited for
pleasure.
“Then I experienced a revelation…”
Farley Mowat, is his eloquent and sometimes verbose way, goes on to
tell of wounding a goose who yearns to join her fast disappearing
flock. You can read the entire piece in my book or in his foreword
to Captain Paul Watson’s Ocean Warrior, but to make a long, sad
story short, he ends with:
“Driving home to Saskatoon that night I felt a sick repugnance for
what we had done…I never hunted again.”
Now that’s what I call an ethical hunter.