For the Secret Keeper’s writing prompt, inspired by finding a dead hen pheasant at the edge of the next field. An unnoticed victim of yesterday’s hunting. The words to include are:
RENT | WHY | ALERT | TRAGEDY | UPSET
By the hedge, soft plumes,
in death barely ruffled, lie,
frail life thread severed.
No warning came from twig snap,
no man smell, gun-oiled and booted,
a bolt from the unseen sky.
Was warm, a mother bird,
now busy with ants—I ask,
why this waste of beauty,
when the world is already dark?
Jane Dougherty Writes 
A sad reminder of mortality–but lovely writing.
I won’t ever be reconciled to killing for fun.
No, I won’t be either.
I don’t fall for the ‘tradition’, ‘man against nature’ line. Just a load of macho preening.
I despise these hunters. With everything I know is right knowing what they do is wrong!
It’s sad that humankind is stuck in a rut of barbarity. Most hunters would consider themselves to be the guardians of the countryside, picking off the weak, strengthening the stock etc etc but when it comes down to it, they basically kill things for fun.
I’m depressed.
It is depressing. I heard someone, a French researcher into animal intelligence say that human beings are credited with being the most intelligent life form that has ever existed, but he contested that. Human beings are simply the most destructive.
One of the hardest things about living in the French countryside …. I have never come to terms with it. Your tender words resonate.
It’s the same in Italy and Spain. In England they have less to kill so they have their grouse moors and pheasant shoots. And they make a great ritual of killing foxes. Killing anything that moves is a universal human pastime.
😢
🙂
This leaves a chill. (K)
It saddens me no end.
“Why” is never answered.
Not in a way that makes any sense to me.