October 1, 2012
For a description of what State of New Hampshire Fish and Game labels as “bear-baiting” and what acts it will legally distribute permits for, please click HERE.
Bear-Baiting Blood-Lust by Ella Logan(a true story) by Ella Logan
Technically, I didn’t witness it happening, but I heard it and I knew it.
Immediately, I felt a feeling of pain in my heart; almost as if the blood stopped pumping, even if only for a few seconds….I died, too.
It was too far away to hear the sounds of the cry or the cheers from the victory. Within moments, the crowd rushed to the scene. I stood in my yard, completely still, and in silence, and I could have sworn I, too, felt the bullet in my heart.
For these “people” will only shoot you in your heart as a bullet in the head ruins the perfect stuffed trophy that will be displayed on the walls of their homes.
Thoughts rushed my mind as I vividly imagined the moment that was the same as any other day for the victim, except today would be different. Today you will die; today you will be murdered.
Not because you harmed a soul, not even a single threat to anyone, but you have something of value to your human enemies and that is your organs, which sell for big money in the underground markets.
I chant, I pray and I welcome positive energy to fill my environment, so I can sleep and accept there was really nothing I could have done to prevent this; save your life, as this barbaric act is condoned and acceptable and legal to do in this state; in many states.
I tossed a bit in bed, but eventually closed my eyes to sleep. But, by morning, it wasn’t over. My animals seemed stressed when I let them out. I had an idea, so I had to investigate. I expected to see your bloodstain on the bed of the pickup truck.
I found remains instead. Thrown in the back of a pickup truck as if you were a bag of spoiled garbage. Your head, 4 severed paws, and fur/skin that once was attached to your living being. I stood there, frozen, and the only life that surrounded me was the astronomical amount of flies that fed on your mutilated, dissembled carcass.
I realized it was the smell of death in the air that brought on the stress to my animals. And even though I couldn’t smell it, I knew it was there; I was staring at it. My body, still frozen, all but my mouth. I said a prayer out loud and few words as I stared into the open eyes left in your head by your murderer. I apologized for the humans who did this, shortened a life that once just roamed the woods, eating berries..surviving in the woods. And, as I do with any animal I come across, dead or alive, I named this black bear Taipa, which is a Native American Indian (Miwok) name meaning “spread wings.” (and fly).