| |
|
An estate is a relatively limited area in which to control a population, when compared to Australia which is pretty massive. So whilst the impact of shotgun-toting middle-management types on an elk population will have some kind of limiting effect, I'm dubious about the effectiveness of lone hunters vrs feral animals within the Australian environment.
Not as true as you might think. Whole populations of critters have been wiped out by injudicial gun usage. One of the reasons we have green groups nowadays campaigning for animal population management (I'm not talking about the rabid, dreadlock-toting professional protesters here) is to stop the degradation of species through lone riflemen taking potshots at passing wildlife.
Crocodiles were never considered a threat during my early years up here in the Territory. Then the government placed a total ban on the hunting of crocs by anyone other than the tradition owners. Within 15 years the noisesome buggers were back in plague proportions.
Same deal with the ferals I shoot. When hunting on Arnhem Land, it is with the express written permission of the traditional landholders through one of the Land Councils. They know only too well the damage caused by these foraging beasties which destroy sacred waterholes with their penetrative hooves, carry tuberculosis and generally make it hard for the native species to survive.
Killing a donkey or a pig from half a mile away, for the apparent main purpose of feeling empowered as a human? I still don't see it as anything much but cruel, I'm afraid. The benefit to the environment sounded, even in the original post, like an attempt to justify the pleasure of the killing
The empowerment is a terminal by-product, if you like, not the driving force of the exercise. The application of skills learned on the shooting range taken to the next level is mainly what I'm seeking. To draw a bead on a smallish, moving target at 500 metres; allow for windage, judge the distance and squeeze off a head shot that drops a three quarter tonne bull gives more satisfaction than popping a possible at the range. The "thrill of the hunt" is a term that wasn't coined lightly.
Of course, that's just the last minute or so of what may have been a five hour hunt. To stalk a wary buff (and believe me, the buffalo on the Walker River flood plains are very wary) is no mean achievement. Biting sandflies, oppressive heat, dehydration, the threat of getting bushed all add to the challenge. The buffalo have incredible hearing and their sight isn't so bad either. But what will bring you undone is their sense of smell.
And of course, while on the flood plains, every pool could contain an unseen 6 metre lizard with hunger pang or just a morally outraged sense of territorial pride. Not really sure where you could find that sort of closeness to Mother Gaea in the big smoke. Spraying aphid spray on the roses maybe?
As I said, quite empowering really. |
|
|
