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Show compassion, respect to all creatures
Published October 31, 2009
My love for animals came from my parents. Mother was compassionate toward all living things — except pests. Dad didn’t kill anything he didn’t intend to eat, except for venomous varmints.
I live as they lived, only I’ve stepped it up a bit. I don’t like to kill toxic creatures. I’d rather transport them to secluded woodlands and set them free.
I dealt with angst the last time I killed an animal unlucky enough to be born with a venom sac. Tropical Storm Francis flooded Hide-A-Way on the Gulf for a couple of days. Rattlesnakes, water moccasins and the like found refuge on anything protruding above the waters.
Residents shot their way into their homes. Tat, tat, tat went the small caliber guns. Boom went the shotguns. The shots rang out for hours. I killed seven snakes. Three rattlers were on a stack of crab traps next to the first landing of my outside stairs, and one was on top of the gunwales of my boat. I also shot a couple of water moccasins for a neighbor.
If I had it to do over, I would have moved the rattlers back to the animal refuge across the street from my home and let them do their thing all the days of their lives.
Oh, and using animals for target practice is unimaginable to me. Why should an animal lose its precious life just so a shooter can experience the itty bitty thrill of hitting a mark? Compare your size with the size of the animal. Compare your weaponry with its ability to defend itself. Is it sportsmanlike conduct, for example, to shoot a sparrow? Please.
If your child has a BB gun, a bow and arrow or whatever, teach him or her to value life. When I was about 10, I target practiced on my mother’s clothespins with my BB gun. If I hit them just right, they’d spin round and round. My blessed mother didn’t complain. I suppose she thought a few clothespins weren’t a big price to pay for her son to develop a skill while being occupied.
Compassionate toward animals, I am; against hunting, I’m not. I’m a member of Ducks Unlimited, and I have been a member of the Coastal Conservation Association. Both organizations respect life and are among our primary conservationists. They advocate killing only what is used appropriately. I applaud the pristine efforts of both vital organizations.
As a counselor of children and teens, I love it when parents tell me that they take their kids hunting. They camp and learn gun safety, marksmanship and the thrill of the hunt. I thank God for parents who bond with their children in the great outdoors.
The palates of many who are against hunting are satisfied by the daily slaughter of chickens, ducks, turkeys, quail, hogs, cows, fish, shrimp, lobster, crabs, oysters and a plethora of other animals. The kill couldn’t have gotten to their stomachs without going through a packing plant.
Two of Mother’s brothers owned Palestine Packing Plant in Palestine, Texas, while I was a child. I toured the plant. Processing animals isn’t pretty. Yet I’m not against eating animals. The Bible is clear that among the purposes of animals is the sustenance of human life.
My respect for animal life has been always. A variety of animals were a part of my happy childhood. My father bought us kids a little donkey for $5. The burro and I bonded. When my mother missed me, she found the donkey and me asleep together, the donkey lying down, my head pillowed on her warm and soft tummy.
Our dog, Beauty, was a cantankerous sort. She snapped at people, snagging a few, just because they were breathing air, I guess. Everyone put a wide berth between her and them. When nursing puppies, she was three times as testy.
Again, Mother lost me. To her great alarm, she found me under our home with Beauty and her squirming pups. Mother was bewildered with Beauty’s tolerance of me as I held and caressed her young. Concerned that Beauty might attack if she startled her, Mother quietly whispered for me to calmly leave Beauty’s lair and to come out from under the house. I did. No problem.
Respond to animals with integrity. God mandated that we be righteous guardians of his world.
Facts correspondent Buddy Scott is director of His Love Counseling Services in Lake Jackson.
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