Two of the oldest rationalizations for trophy hunting is “controlling problematic animal populations” and “we give the meat to grateful local villagers.”
If it’s about ridding an area of problematic species (rogue elephants, vicious giraffes, snotty antelope, etc.), these fearless hunters could go hunting in Baltimore for a couple days, while never venturing more than a few blocks, and pose over a pile of dead rats the size of a pickup truck. That’s the size of the pile – the rats are no bigger than scooters.
The other excuse casts the trophy hunter as Mother Theresa bringing lunch to the poor, rather than a sociopath engaged in blood drenched self-celebration. But that doesn’t mean these great white hunters can’t slake their thirst for humanitarian good works, and still pursue their hobby.
The recently slaughtered lion in the news probably weighed roughly 350 pounds, and the mad dentist’s sick kicks cost him $55,000. The hungry villagers would see about 35 to 50 pounds of meat. For $55,000, this humanitarian could buy 5,000 pounds of beef, ship it to Africa, and have enough change left to come to the Eastern shore and go deer hunting – REAL hunting, of a non-endangered species. Not a baited kill, not the captive slaughter Dick Cheney was enjoying when his pal’s face got in the way – and I know a few shore natives who’ll gratefully accept that venison (or Sika tenderloin!). If it’s about the glory, there’d even be change left for a gun-totin’ humanitarian oil portrait to hang over his fireplace.
So when we talk about privileged tourists, traveling the world to witness first hand the magnificence of the animal kingdom and blow ’em to Kingdom come, spare us fables of the welfare of fearful, hungry natives, as the rationale for the hunt for prosthetic manhood.
Carol Voyles says
Thank you, RICH. You’ve outdone yourself and the belly laughs were a treat!