Judging from the alacrity with which my species kills its own and other species, killing seems to come so naturally to us. My position may be “wrong” in some absolute way, but I don’t like to see anything or anyone hurt or killed.[teaserbreak]
As a naturalist—and as someone who has been on this earth a very long time relative to most folks—I’m aware that death and suffering are inevitable and serve functions inherent to the nature of existence. And, I am aware that there are values and needs that can transcend the universal desire among all of us with developed central nervous systems—whatever our species—to avoid pain and death. So, if I don’t need to cause either, I’ll choose not to.
Each morning this October, I’ve found anywhere from two to eight hornets in my bathroom (they find a way in through the window). Some people will smirk at my taking the time and the minuscule risk involved to get them all back outside without killing any—or being stung. On the other hand, any mosquito who alights on me is doomed if my slap is fast enough.
All of which brings me to a situation that recently occurred near Grand Bank, in southern Newfoundland. Rodney, an avid hunter, shot a moose. Unlike many parts of their range, where they are experiencing serious declines, moose are common on the huge island of Newfoundland. They are not native, having been put there over a century ago so people like Rodney could shoot them.
The bull moose, a fourteen pointer, was shot twice. He went down. Rodney was used to turning magnificent animals into carrion with the squeeze of a trigger and confidently approached the dead animal. Rodney then put down his gun and turned to his fiancée, some distance away, to ask her to bring his knives so he could field dress the animal. But, as it turned out, the moose was not dead after all. The moose rose to his feet and lunged at Rodney, catching the human in his magnificent antlers and tossing him aside, before then bringing his hooves into play. Rodney grabbed for the antlers.
Rodney was badly hurt but survived the attack and was airlifted to a hospital with, as he said, hoof prints in his forehead. While he needed significant medical attention, Rodney lived and plans to go back to killing animals.
And the moose? We know that he went down with his legs in the air, but he lived, for now. Unlike Rodney, medical intervention for a grievous attack—in his case, one that was unprovoked—was not an option. He might manage to survive, but it is more likely that he’ll die a miserable death from internal hemorrhaging, infection, or organ failure. And if, as is likely, the bullets Rodney used were made of lead, the moose’s flesh will be toxic to a host of scavengers that will feed off of his body, from chickadees to ravens and eagles.
Rodney says he suffers flashbacks to the incident, “every time I closed my eyes.” He has my sympathies… but so does the moose.
Keep Wildlife in the Wild,
Barry