I have a huge backyard and it
takes a while for me to mow. It has been the location of many great memories with
two little girls growing up; backyard birthday parties, slip-n-slide get-togethers, chasing and playing with dogs. Since our last German Shepherd died
in 2009, it has become the perfect habitat for all manner of creatures that
walk, jump, run, and even crawl.
Our rabbit population has also increased with babies running to and fro all day long. I look out for them, even throwing out lettuce and a
carrot or two. When I saw what I had done today, I thought back to a time when
I was 8 or 9. We had a bad Blue Jay population that stole our pecans. Dad told
me he would pay me a quarter for each Blue Jay I killed and brought to him. I
do not know if Dad actually thought a young boy with a BB gun was going to impact
the Blue Jay population by any measurable amount, but it gave me something to
do. A few days later, after a lot of misses, I killed my first bird. Not long
after, I got my second. By then I noticed a bird kept returning to the same tree.
I decided to climb the tree to see if there was a nest. It was a tall pecan
tree on the back two acres—too far away for anyone to hear me if I called for
help. I remember getting some rope from the barn and attaching one end to my BB
gun and the other end to my waist. After climbing the tree, I found a nest with
three or four baby birds. Until I saw them, I had not thought of what I would do if
I actually found any birds. The momma bird kept flying towards me attempting to
scare me off. God made the females of the species very protective and endowed
them with a special trait to nurture and care for their young. She was no
different. After a few moments of mental debate, I either let them live or thought I
should do as my dad asked because these would grow up and “steal” our pecans. I
finally decided to drop them. Later that evening, I took my Piggly Wiggly "game bag" to the house to show Dad my kills and get my money. He seemed impressed when I
went into the bag for the third time to remove another bird. When he saw what I
had it was easy to see the disappointment on his face. He asked how I got them.
I recounted the events. He could have been angry, or worse he could have been
proud. I am glad he was neither. He told me you have to give animals a fighting
chance. Taking a life is a solemn event. He counted out the quarters, one for each bird,
then told me to bury the birds. I found a nice place under the tree they lived in.
I took the quarters from my pocket and threw them in the little grave before
covering them with dirt. The dirt that covered the dead bodies was symbolic of
me hiding the feelings of my actions.
Please do not misunderstand; I am not a card-carrying PETA
fanatic. I grew up hunting and fishing and we ate what we caught and killed. We
had cows, goats, and all breeds of dogs we cared for and provided for. We did what
generations of mankind have done going back to the Garden of Eden. God made
“male and female” telling them to “be fruitful and increase in number; fill the
earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and
over every living creature that moves on the ground”. We are charged by our
Creator to protect and manage all living things on this earth. Just do a word
study (etymological) of the words “man”, “husbandry”, and “management”—they all
come from the same root word. For a long time, agricultural colleges offered
degrees in “animal husbandry”. It is now called “animal science”. We are to
protect life and manage all Earth’s resources.
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| Aborted fetuses being shipped to an incinerator. |
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| Preserved aborted fetuses for research. |
After a few moments of remembering the Blue Jay event, I
thought about the people who invest time and money in protecting animals. There
are many people who spend their entire lives protecting and defending endangered
animals like the Mexican Walking Fish or Chinese Giant Salamander. Then there
are some that want to protect all animals all the time from all bi-pedal
predators—man. They would give their lives to protect an animal. I guess this is
admirable in a way, but then many of these same defenders have no problem with
the murder of innocent babies. Oh, they have nice names for it: “manual vacuum
aspiration” and “Intact D&X” (Dilation and Extraction), but they all have a
singular purpose: kill the unborn child growing in a woman’s body. These
aborted babies are then backed in red biological bags or placed in glass
containers filled with preservatives. The red bags are then incinerated.
Sometimes they are just thrown in the trash. No funerals. No memorials. People
should care for animals, but having greater concern for animals than unborn
humans is wrong.
All these thoughts flooded my consciousness while I
stood watching. You see, I walk the backyard, make a lot of noise, and have an
idea of most of the rabbit hole locations. It is kind of like a Seinfeld
episode—“The Merv Griffin Show”—where George first hits a pigeon while driving,
then steps on another. Finally, he swerves the car to miss a pigeon only to hit
a squirrel. He continues to argue that man and pigeons “had a deal”. They do
their thing (pooping on everyone and statue defecation) and in return, they move out of the way for
humans. The big John Deere makes a lot of noise and I drive slow enough to give
ample warning in the event there are even slower rabbits. However, today, they
were not in a hole in the open yard. Instead, they were under a tree that had
snapped years ago from a tornado. The limbs began to grow towards the bottom
and became a huge 12-foot tall tree-bush. I was using my push mower to get
under the limbs when I saw an adolescent rabbit running away. Movement caught
my attention and noticed several very small bunnies crawling/walking way. They
were maybe 4-inches. It was then I noticed one that was just kind of writhing
in place. There was no blood and I was hoping that the blades had missed him
(the actual hole was under the tire track and not the blades). I walk away in
an attempt to allow the momma to return and care for her young. I decided to
not finish mowing under the bush. A few moments later after mowing around
another tree, I finished and knocked on the back door to get my wife’s attention.
She came out on the deck and I told her what had happened. She was sad. I recounted
the Blue Jay story and how I felt about that event. Moments later, after cleaning
both mowers and stowing them in “Ed’s Shed”, I walk back to the tree-bush.
There he was. He was not moving. Thankfully, all the others were gone. I walk
to the garage to get a shovel. Since the first grave for birds, I have dug many
graves for animals. It is never an easy task. I decided to bury him between my
two German Shepherds, Jacoba and Nikko. Perhaps this way, he will always have
someone to play with. The dogs loved to lie under the tree-bush and ironically,
the bunny is only 20 feet from where he was born.
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| Bunny Burial. |
I finished filling, covering, and tamping down the moist
soil. I killed a baby bunny today; it reminded me of all the aborted babies and
it made me sad. At least this baby had a funeral.
