No, actually it was a real lion not a pretend talking one on TV. The truest kind of beast, head of his pride and the pride of a nation. It took $50,000 U.S. dollars, a couple of greedy guides and one idiot with a crossbow and a spot light to end Cecil's kingship. And we are all made poorer for it.
Now but a few days later we hear of the death of Cecil's brother, Jericho. Counter to what many believed, he had become the protector of Cecil's offspring behind which the pride had united. Now, again, the hand of man moves across the landscape. Ever lusting for blood masquerading as sport. Be they beast or man, there is no hiding nor escape.
Perhaps an overpaid Minnesota dentist might learn something from all this. One where he gives up his blood-lust for more useful pursuits. Like opening a free dental clinic for the poor. Perhaps he could own up to his mistake and pays for his sin like the decent sort we hope him to be. Or perhaps he will not surprise us and continue defending the indefensible.
Not the indefensible fact that he hired bad guides who delivered Cecil up on a platter, but the fact that someone of our kind, from our heartland could perpetrate such an act in this day and age. And defend it as LEGAL. Perhaps we are not so enlightened as some may conjure. We all have blind spots. Some more than others.
We are all tender creatures. We are the broken inhabitants on the Isle of Misfit Toys. We are first gods to our children, and remain their lifelong tormentors long after our superpowers have faded. We are meat and purpose to our dogs while cats are merely amused by us. Because we are known by our deeds, all tremble when we pass. Except for lions.
How will the young Masai prove himself a man? Perhaps he may still. Perhaps by proudly wearing the skin of a dentist or some other poacher around his shoulders when he returns to his village. His shield festooned with the shiny implements of his trade; the picks, probes, rubber wedges and a pair of opposing spit siphons. Perhaps a poacher's own teeth can be made into a necklace? But I digress.
From all this, one can wonder, one can still hope, but we can all do something. Something other than this.
As a confession, I have been an avid shooter most of my life. Except for that time in kindergarten... anyway, suffice to say, I don't kill Bambi but if I had the shot and was truly hungry, I'd take it and wait for his mom to come looking for him and... never mind.
But killing for sport is another thing, isn't it? It should be. It's not like hunting for meat. It's not like killing in self-defense. It's not like anything other than blood and the sport in taking it. But even so, I don't see ANYTHING sporting about killing at night using high intensity spot lights and bait. It's something else entirely and just like the Stars-n-Bars, should be relegated to display in museums and dangling from the tailgate of a redneck's pickup. You know, so that we may know them by their deeds.
We can get past this and do better. We have to. There's no shortage of wealthy dentists and stupid rednecks, but we are running out of lions.
