Shooters' blog entries to my blog early this week about their party's NSW Parliament bill seeking approval to shoot and hunt in national parks will leave the naive reader with the impression that they wouldn't hurt a fly. The especially naive will come away with the impression that not only are the shooters not seeking shooting access to national parks, but that they wouldn't want to shoot anything in a national park anyway.
And when they are forced to hunt and shoot anything it is to feed their starving family, to save the environment or because of a love of birds and animals.
None, not one, discusses the reason they kill things. Not one of them says he hunts birds or animals because it is fun, because there's a satisfaction to be had killing a bird or animal, because the death rattles somehow satisfy a primeval urge.
A flick through hunting magazines, which is the closest people who don't have this urge are likely to get to a disclosure of the urge, is illuminating, as I describe it in my column in The Herald today. In the current crop of mags you'll read of the pleasure to be had in repeatedly driving a knife into a pig's ribs, of the bonding to be had when two mates are driving a knife into the ribs from each side, in spreading the death of a pig over three shotgun blasts, of slamming a bullet into a bull's ribs, into smashing the shoulder blades of a brumby stallion.
Can you offer an insight into this, perhaps an explanation or even an excuse? C'mon shooters and hunters, give us a glimpse of your blood lust.