Brae Rabbit
I was kinda pissed off by the futility of the human species upon reading an article the other day. Surprisingly it was about using what could be described about chemical weapons (although very loosely) on english soil. More importantly, abeit only to me, the actual story is about the utter destruction of a subspecies of animal.
The actual story, forwarded to me by my ever-loving and slightly misplaced parents involved an awfully long and badly written acticle, along with some "Dear Editor" type letters, which were even less well written, although probably better than this. I apologise in advance, but I'm too angry after reading this newspaper script to type to my usual crappy standard.
My folks decided (against my better judgement) to move to Devon (also against my better judgement) a while back, which means a treacherous ride across moor roads (take moor care!) on the bike whenever i want to see them. *sigh* I also get to occasionally see another side to life, rather than just the modern, up to date city based view point I have. Yes, I get to pretend to be Katred-Bo-Lite and learn about life in the country. Not just fields, but actually the country side, in little villages where your next door neighbours son is the other neighbours husband, uncle and son as well. This is the kinda world of which I now speak, not that great distance from a government that can decree to kill things that simply live in a way that they wish.
So, the actual story;
The Government, including several NSPCA and WWF type organisations have finally bowed to public (about 3 of them) outcry and decided to kill a couple of hundred bunnies. Not bunnies actually but Hares, as in mad as a march one.
There's a school of thought that says that if a burglar breaks into your house, you should be able to defend yourself (but at the moment not a legal one), there's also a school of thought that says if you go looking for tigers in a jungle you're going to get maimed. Combine the two, involve a hunting dog, and you get the story.
Now, I used to own a rabbit, a Dwarf Lop-eared, hiddeously cross-bred to eccentuate cuteness, although it does give jaw problems and massive headaches to the species - so I might be a little biased in this matter.
So the actual story goes like this:
A man goes onto Exmoor (the smaller one, in North Devon) and is walking around with his dog. A local stops him and says:
"Yor not goin up thar with tha' are yoo?"
"Yes" says the man "Why?" adding wih genuine concern.
"Thar's a warren up thar, you don't want to go up thar." is the west country reply.
"You don't want my dog to go up there?" said the man, about to continue, but..
"You thin it should? Thars a warren, you don't want tha." interupted the man (the actual conversion was probably less dramatic, but it's my interpretation)
"What, its a doberman, a hunting dog (the dog was definately some kinda hunting dog) it's not illegal to hunt rabbits!" the man was kinda outraged by now
"Those aint no rabbits, them Kenil Hares, don't go thar with no dog" The local replies.
The man stormed off with the dog (his story is a little different, but the warnings there)
Anyhow, man returns, shaken and somewhat dog-less. Now I like dogs, but I dislike idiots, so my pity is with the dog, not the man.
Kenil (pro. Kennel) Hares are big nastey fucks that have over-sized back legs, can spray piss over 10 feet, which blinds like a blinding toxic, just like piss. If their territory is attacked they defend in small packs like all rodents, and have a nastey bite. Big things, like humans, scare them underground. A lone dog isn't much of a match.
Horrid, but thats the man's story over.
Apart from the sudden political demand that all Kenil Hares be gassed, hence the chemical warfare comment earlier. Disgusting, but not merely horrid.
Apparently a child got their finger bitten off by one about 60 years ago.
And the government has decided this is enough to demand a natural species of Hare be removed from the Globe. No repercussions on the environment, no public outcry as no-one has them as pets.
Life.
The actual story, forwarded to me by my ever-loving and slightly misplaced parents involved an awfully long and badly written acticle, along with some "Dear Editor" type letters, which were even less well written, although probably better than this. I apologise in advance, but I'm too angry after reading this newspaper script to type to my usual crappy standard.
My folks decided (against my better judgement) to move to Devon (also against my better judgement) a while back, which means a treacherous ride across moor roads (take moor care!) on the bike whenever i want to see them. *sigh* I also get to occasionally see another side to life, rather than just the modern, up to date city based view point I have. Yes, I get to pretend to be Katred-Bo-Lite and learn about life in the country. Not just fields, but actually the country side, in little villages where your next door neighbours son is the other neighbours husband, uncle and son as well. This is the kinda world of which I now speak, not that great distance from a government that can decree to kill things that simply live in a way that they wish.
So, the actual story;
The Government, including several NSPCA and WWF type organisations have finally bowed to public (about 3 of them) outcry and decided to kill a couple of hundred bunnies. Not bunnies actually but Hares, as in mad as a march one.
There's a school of thought that says that if a burglar breaks into your house, you should be able to defend yourself (but at the moment not a legal one), there's also a school of thought that says if you go looking for tigers in a jungle you're going to get maimed. Combine the two, involve a hunting dog, and you get the story.
Now, I used to own a rabbit, a Dwarf Lop-eared, hiddeously cross-bred to eccentuate cuteness, although it does give jaw problems and massive headaches to the species - so I might be a little biased in this matter.
So the actual story goes like this:
A man goes onto Exmoor (the smaller one, in North Devon) and is walking around with his dog. A local stops him and says:
"Yor not goin up thar with tha' are yoo?"
"Yes" says the man "Why?" adding wih genuine concern.
"Thar's a warren up thar, you don't want to go up thar." is the west country reply.
"You don't want my dog to go up there?" said the man, about to continue, but..
"You thin it should? Thars a warren, you don't want tha." interupted the man (the actual conversion was probably less dramatic, but it's my interpretation)
"What, its a doberman, a hunting dog (the dog was definately some kinda hunting dog) it's not illegal to hunt rabbits!" the man was kinda outraged by now
"Those aint no rabbits, them Kenil Hares, don't go thar with no dog" The local replies.
The man stormed off with the dog (his story is a little different, but the warnings there)
Anyhow, man returns, shaken and somewhat dog-less. Now I like dogs, but I dislike idiots, so my pity is with the dog, not the man.
Kenil (pro. Kennel) Hares are big nastey fucks that have over-sized back legs, can spray piss over 10 feet, which blinds like a blinding toxic, just like piss. If their territory is attacked they defend in small packs like all rodents, and have a nastey bite. Big things, like humans, scare them underground. A lone dog isn't much of a match.
Horrid, but thats the man's story over.
Apart from the sudden political demand that all Kenil Hares be gassed, hence the chemical warfare comment earlier. Disgusting, but not merely horrid.
Apparently a child got their finger bitten off by one about 60 years ago.
And the government has decided this is enough to demand a natural species of Hare be removed from the Globe. No repercussions on the environment, no public outcry as no-one has them as pets.
Life.