Yesterday I walked outside midday, to find the air filled with the delightful sound of birds flying overhead. I knew at once that these large flocks heading south for the winter were not Canada Geese. Their call was a kind of staccato. I did not have my binoculars so I could not be certain if they were Whooping Cranes or Sandhill Cranes; but I suspect the former because of this part of Wyoming being so near Nebraska. The Platte River Valley has been a stopover for migrating Sandhills for thousands of years. It was a warm, clear October day and I was mesmerized at the beautiful sight and sound of them as they travelled together in their V-formations, moving fluidly across the sky. It filled me with joy.
I called for my daughter, who was in the house at the time, to come quickly so that I could share this brief, but beautiful gift. I felt privileged to be a witness to their great journey. Unfortunately, my daughter chose to rain on my parade by reminding of the hunters that she knows, who are happy to see the cranes as well – only for a different reason. The Sandhill cranes are protected in Nebraska where it is illegal to shoot them; but there is a farmer here who floods his fields every fall, creating a temporary wetland to lure them in. This also attracts many species of ducks. They insist that this is not “baiting”, which is illegal even in Wyoming. But, that is exactly what it is. They trick the waterfowl so that they fly towards the water and stop to fill their stomachs with the remaining grain. Then they are shot. This is no different than setting a trap for a wolf or a coyote or even a mouse. There is no thought to the suffering they are inflicting on another being. The hunters of today do not fight or hunt or play fair. The truth is that human beings are not nearly as strong or as fast as those species they kill. Their brains have figured out ways to outsmart them, but only by disconnecting their hearts. They use all sorts of decoys and whistles to imitate the animal that they are hunting. In many cases it is only to acquire a trophy and impress their buddies.
One day when all of the wildlife has been either hunted to extinction or their habitat has all been covered over in concrete, what then will the hunter do for recreation? Perhaps humans will begin hunting one another. When there is nothing left to hunt or to kill or to eat, will we at long last realize our errors? Will the human race awaken before it is too late?
