Whether it's circuses, horse racing or Sea World, I find it difficult to comprehend any enjoyment derived from distressing animals. What I find utterly perplexing is how anyone could have fun hunting them. My guess is the allure is that masculine combination of a moving target, the great outdoors and high powered weaponry. Recently, I flicked over to a show on TV (you know those quaint things people used to keep in their living rooms?) about deer hunting. Carefully stalking the animal is a major part of the operation and in order to avoid detection, the hunters mask their scent by covering themselves in deer droppings and urine.
If you stalk an animal all day covered in its shit and then shoot it, are you really the victor? Or are you just a pervert? If you can break down your weekend into: doused myself in piss then shot a gun, do you not take a look at what you're doing, have a sniff and at least question it?
"Hey, pass the urine, Bob. Actually, you know what? Never mind, I think I might go and buy a model train set instead."
In Victoria, the state where I live, duck hunting season is always controversial. Each year there is a call for it to be outlawed and yet the 'sport' continues. What kind of weak government can't muster the political will to outlaw the slaughter of cute fluffy things? What are they afraid of? In Australia we don't have a gun culture and there can't be that many people duck hunting. It'd be just ten blokes in flannel. How much clout do these jokers have?
My suggestion: The Protection of Cute Fluffy Things Act. Who is going to appose that, except for the crazy guy down the road who likes to blow-off steam by blowing-off lead into a pond?
Why not clay target shoot instead? Why does something have to die for it to be enjoyable? There are many sports where the objective is to launch a projectile at a target: like basketball. But is basketball enhanced by replacing the basketball with a cannonball and the ring with a giraffe? Hmm, actually... Where's my safari suit?