Haibun for an autumn Sunday

It’s September, it’s hunting season and a typical Sunday of keeping away from the hedges and the trees.

 

I wanted a garden, got a meadow instead, and the flowers are wild. Not a garden but home to a voiceless population. A home encircled by men with guns, nature lovers, protectors of the environment, killers. I have become a sentinel.

Who loves nature

does not carry

a gun.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

16 thoughts on “Haibun for an autumn Sunday”

    1. There’s a lot of debunking going on at the moment, of the myth the hunters have created to make them more palatable to public opinion. Like being environmentalists, and preserving wildlife from…other wildlife, by shooting …all wildlife, and birds, while breeding the animals they like to kill in cages, releasing them, and then shouting, my goodness what a lot of deer/boar/hares/rabbits, we must do a cull. They’re just killers. Period.

      1. The president of the federation of hunting associations said in an interview recently, “I like killing animals”. There was an uneasy silence, as if he just said something that should not speak its name.

      2. I don’t know. You hear these things and are left speechless but other people hear the same thing and just nod in agreement. I suppose the fun is when you hit something rather than just shoot, and it’s even more fun if what you hit had a life to take.

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