ENOUGH WITH THE FAUX GRIEF ALREADY

I hope someday there will be a detailed scientific analysis and report on Sydney’s water supply. I've always wanted to know what makes folk up there so shallow and self-indulgent and the problem's so widespread I’m convinced it’s in the water.

Two complete strangers die in tragic circumstances and all Sydney has to buy a chunk of the grief by rushing into town to donate $25 worth of flowers to the hot pavement.

That’s $25 they wouldn't have had for the Smith Family at Christmas, mind you, or the Red Cross, sundry homeless shelters and other not-for-profits struggling to minister to the living during the “festive season” and so on.

Oh no...that's about helping one's fellow man. The Martin Place phenomenon is all about me-me-me-me-me!

I mean, there are cameras everywhere aren't there. I might get on the tele! Koshie might interview me - swoon!!

These folk propelled by an abiding need to be a part of something, anything special, are the same folk who’d raise merry hell at the idea of being hit an extra $1 a week in taxes to provide affordable housing for those in need.

Where’s the opportunity for immortality and being portrayed as a member of the enlightened sensitive elite in that?

Now of course we have the predictable call to ban guns so this can never happen again.

That’s a brilliant idea! Why didn't someone think of that before? And why stop there?

Let’s ban cocaine, ecstasy and Meth too!

Just for the record, if initial reports are correct, the gun used in the Lindt Cafe seige is illegal to own in Australia.

And as we now know for certain, the gunman never owned the firearms licence that one must own before police will issue an authority to purchase any gun, even legal ones.

Of course the solution to these dreadful events is simple. We should ban city folk!

Honestly, we country folk don’t have social problems to anywhere near the degree they flourish in the city environment.

Whenever there’s a drive-by shooting, an horrific gang rape, a massacre, a massive drug hall, biker wars or terrorist seiges etc etc ad nauseam, it’s invariably city based, so let’s get rid of them!

Someone recently told me the "outpouring of grief" symbolised by the floral tributes in Martin Place was one of "Australia’s defining moments”. If such moments are defined by shallow displays of “me too” self-indulgence whipped-up and promoted by the gang at “Sunrise” and associated media manipulators, leave me out of it.

The only "defining moment" to have occurred in Martin Place in the past week was the one where a good looking young Aussie bloke named Tori Johnson rekindled, if only for one tragic moment, the true spirit of selflessness Australians were once admired for the world over.

Those laying flowers in Martin Place today are not paying homage to his spirit of bravery and self-sacrifice. They are swept up in a fashion statement contrived by the media to ensure emotive fodder for their reports and endless cross-overs.

Anyway, I'll get outaya way now....

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THE EROSION OF AN AUSSIE ICON

We Australians revel in our image as knock-about, easy-going, down-to-earth folks. Despite the continent’s harsh climate, its "droughts and flooding rains", its bushfires, its snakes, spiders, rogue man-eating sharks and a myriad other venomous bitin’ stingin’ things, we are nonetheless internationally renowned for our happy-go-lucky ability to wade through adversity largely unfazed.

“We are one, but we are many”, so the 1987 hit “We are Austra-lian” tells us. Bruce Woodley’s hymn for a nation entreats us to be tolerant of our differences and to embrace and indeed revel in our cultural and ethnic diversity and it must be said, we have been pretty successful in that endeavour.

Despite the fact that the vast majority of Australians, regardless of their origins, are city dwellers, the image of Australia is the image of the cattleman, the grazier and the bush. 

Ask anyone overseas what he or she thinks of when ‘Australia’ is mentioned and it’s images of the outback's far horizons, Ayers Rock and Hugh Jackman jumping off a horse that people conjure-up, not the Opera House, Kings Cross, Bondi or even (heaven forefend) its lapidary-jawed vet.

And when  we send a contingent of elite young sporting men and women to represent us overseas, do we dress them in drop-arse jeans barely held at pubic level by a silver-lame belt, accompanied by pointy court jester shoes and a horizontally striped metro-sexual v-neck t-shirt? No! 

When representatives of our superior physical prowess tread the world stage we want the medal bearers dressed proper, in a Drizabone, R.M Williams’ boots and an Akubra!

But despite the way we like to imagine ourselves and indeed want others to imagine us as a nation, an increasing number of metro-dwellers work doggedly to erode the way of life that is synonymous with the Aussie image. 

They do it with growing intolerance and a demonstrable contempt for cultural diversity they don’t even bother to hide. They are slowly, insidiously striving to erase the Aussie bushmans' way of life, to reduce it to nothing more than a romantic but extinct theme.

Everyday millions of ‘Australians’ busy themselves scuttling about in the completely artificial temperature controlled environments that are our major cities. Seldom looking up from their smart-phones other than to briefly get their bearings, they Facebook, Tweet, Instagram and text the same old people day in day out, rather than turning to greet the person sitting next to them on the train with a “hello” or “nice day isn’t it” thereby engaging with someone new of flesh and blood.

If you’ve been lost in the city lately perhaps you know the futility of trying to get directions from people who stuff their ears with speakers and focus their eyes on some electronic device at nipple-level in order to block out the reality of the press of nameless strangers they’re forced to wade through in their daily activities? 

If you want to know which pocket a city-dweller keeps his wallet in, just try smiling at him.  As if by instinct a hand will immediately secure the wallet’s secret location as its owner moves cautiously on, his face a study in fretting paranoia.

Influenced by fashion, popular opinion as dictated by Kochie & Samantha and whatever popped up on social media just then, these are people of the moment. Their opinions are absolutist, zealously promoted and always correct - obviously! They are ever conscious of the rights of the individual, they are politically correct to a fault and completely free from pretty prejudices. 

They are also supercilious, intolerant and in terms of their capacity to influence the world about them, largely impotent too. It is the frustration born of this impotence among millions of similarly impotent people that makes city folk inclined to lash out in bouts of indignant outrage in the hope of imposing their will upon others, thus alleviating their impotence, if only very briefly. (That may well be an oxymoron?) 

This is evident nowhere more than in the city’s attitude of contempt toward the bush.

The rural way of life is under constant attack from the new-age, metropolitan latte lapper, who loathes our traditions and considers us children desperately in need of enlightened counsel and a firm hand. The message is clear – if we in the city do not approve, you in the country must cease the activity immediately...we know best...that is an order! 

Rural folk are considered whingers by city folk tired of listening to them “carry-on” about droughts, floods, feral plagues, market prices, import competition, interest rates and so on. Our farmers are under constant attack for their intensive farming practices by the very people whose desire to live crammed together like sardines in a wasteland of concrete and steel, make those intensive practices necessary.

Each year thousands of tree-changers, jaded with city life, move to the country to escape overcrowding, pollution, violence and the faceless nameless insular way of life that makes even the neighbours of 10 years comparative strangers.  And right away everything must change! 

Lord knows how these simple country folk managed before their salvation arrived in the form of someone with a newly acquired Indian name and “a vision” for a fully biodegradable, ergonomically designed, wind-generated vegan future based on a sound community owned lentil economy.

In short order, because they know better than generations of locals, they run for Council and eventually take a turn at being Mayor, at which point they settle down to the job their unique talents and experience make them ideally suited to – turning a rural utopia into a carbon copy of the commercialised, impersonal and overpopulated social disaster they fled. 

And before you know it community life is changing to suit the visions of a handful of masseuses, tarot readers, sculptors and macrobiotic restaurateurs who are all united by their common love of esoteric Hindu names and the sense of creative freedom derived from destroying centuries of rural tradition in the name of ‘philosophical enlightenment’ and ‘progress’.

People in the bush are tired of being criticised and belittled by city-folk who have little or no genuine understanding of life in the bush, nor any concern for how much our traditions mean to us.  

Rural Australians' lifestyle and cultural activities are distinct from those of city dwellers and we are very proud of those distinctions. If our city cousins do not wish to share in our rich culture and practice our traditions alongside us, we respect their right to conscientiously and respectfully abstain. 

We do not expect to be targeted with culturally intolerant bigotry as is increasingly the case.

Our leaders and social commentators make much of the need and desirability of tolerance in Australia; indeed tolerance is increasingly celebrated as a most desirable higher intellectual attribute. But I often wonder how many people actually know what ‘tolerance’ means: 

Tolerance [tol-er-uh ns], noun - a fair, objective, and permissive attitude toward those whose opinions, practices, race, religion, nationality, etc., differ from one's own; freedom from bigotry.  (The Oxford Dictionary)

The fact is, there is no ‘tolerance’ inherent in the acceptance of something one does not object to. Those who embrace contentious issues that do not challenge them e.g. abortion or same sex marriage, are not displaying tolerance at all.

For the virtue of tolerance to shine, one must, by definition, display it in relation to something one does not approve of or have some personal interest in, and in this regard agencies such as the Greens are abject failures!

When it comes to our most iconic and distinctly rural activities such as hunting, fishing, shooting, rodeos and equestrian events etc., the response of highly metro-centric agencies like the Greens, Animals Australia and Gun Control Australia is to declare them evil and demand they end immediately! 

They will then proceed to denigrate participants and practitioners with offensive epithets, which question their intellectual capacity, their evolutionary progress and even the size of their genitalia.

Once upon a more tolerant time, a person would demonstrate his opposition to an endeavour or practice by denying it his support and patronage. But not today. Today we must voice our opposition in the strongest possible terms! 

And of course one must launch petitions...thousands and thousands of meaningless petitions, each one testimony to the petitioners' intolerance and proof that bigotry is a flame that attracts many a kamikaze moth. 

Country folk are tired of the ignorant, holier than thou attitudes of self-absorbed people whose notion of community extends to pulling faces on social networking media and striving to make people ROTFLTAO.  Our message to our city cousins is simple....if you want to join us and participate in our way of life – the way of life Australia is renowned and admired for the world over – we would love to have you join us. 

If you don’t approve of the lifestyle, culture and traditions of those who put the food on your tables and produce the raw materials that sole your shoes and put the textiles on your backs, you are welcome to leave us in peace.

But be warned! We will no longer ignore the threat you pose to our cherished way of life. 

The manner in which rural folk across the wide brown land have risen in support of Narooma’s HuntFest is just one example of an increasingly effective and highly energised rural unity movement that is committed to the preservation of the Australian way of life.

And of course as the policies of the major parties grow less distinguishable from each other and even less inspiring with each passing day, we grow more inclined to vote on lifestyle issues dear to our hearts. 

A party that has worked tirelessly to deliver for bush and the party that has consistently demonstrated its willingness to work with other responsible parties in that same endeavour is the Shooters & Fishers Party

The Party's support is growing. New branches are popping-up in jurisdictions across Australian, due in no small part to dissatisfaction with the poor treatment rural constituencies have received in recent years. 

The next battle will be fought in NSW in March 2015 and of course the Party is already in campaign mode. 

If you are not a member of the Shooters & Fishers Party in your state or territory I encourage you to consider paying just $30 p.a. to become a member and support the party that fights to preserve your recreational activities, your lifestyle and your culture.

If you're interested in Campaign 2015 visit the website where you can also find out how to help by promoting the Party or handing out how to vote material for a couple of hours at your local polling station on election day.

Anyway, I'll get outaya way now....

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"EXTINCT" VAMPIRE DEER SURVIVES WAR AND AFGHAN POACHERS

The last time a scientist confirmed a sighting of the elusive Kashmir musk deer, World War II had drawn to a close just a few short years earlier. In the decades that followed, it began to seem likely that deforestation, unregulated hunting and warfare spanning generations in the animals’ native Afghanistan had driven it to extinction.

That is until a team of researchers spent considerable time interviewing locals in the Nuristan province of Afghanistan in 2008, then conducted a wildlife survey of the area, which confirmed the presence of at least one pair of the odd-looking animal that carries the trademark big eyes and overall gentle cuteness of most deer species, but with the addition of a large set of fangs protruding from the snout of the male of the species.

“Musk deer are one of Afghanistan’s living treasures,” said Peter Zahler, Deputy Director of Asia Programs for the Wildlife Conservation Society and co-author of the survey findings recently published in the journal Oryx. 

“This rare species, along with better known wildlife such as snow leopards, are the natural heritage of this struggling nation.”

The researchers also documented the carcass of a female musk deer that had been hunted in one of the villages in the region, pointing to one of the contributing factors keeping the animal out of the public eye.

“This was the first time the species was photographed in Afghanistan,” the report claims.

In addition to problems with security in Afghanistan, tracking down the musk deer is also difficult due to the inaccessible and often rocky terrain that is the animals’ preferred range.

The species is considered endangered and the WCS says its scent glands can fetch as much as $45,000 per kilogram on the black market, making it a target for poachers.

The report’s authors say musk deer need to be targeted for conservation and habitat preservation if the species is to survive, but perhaps the best indication of how likely this is to happen also comes from the WCS, which notes in its press release that conservation workers were forced to leave Nuristan in 2010 due to deteriorating security conditions.  

Anyway, I'll get outaya way now....

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GREENS OUTSOURCE HUNTFEST OPPOSITION

Unbelievable, absolutely unbelievable! That was my reaction when I heard about the latest and most unethical (thus far) stunt pulled by HuntFest's antagonists.

The anti-HuntFest group S.A.F.E (Stop Arms Fairs in Eurobodalla) and their Greens' sponsors ran two petitions recently. The first found favour with only 191 signatories amongst the community.  Unsatisfied that this response adequately reflected their position that “the majority of Eurobodalla residents are opposed to HuntFest”, a SAFE supporter launched a second petition and opened it up to the entire population of the Milky Way Galaxy.

This petition did much better than the first. It garnered 40,000 signatures, the overwhelming majority of them – i.e. a reported minimum of 34,000 of the 40,000 – from outside Australia. But that didn't stop 50 victorious demonstrators handing it to Councillor Gabbie Harding (the Greens) as evidence that HuntFest must be denied its application for an amendment to its event licence.  

Who’d have thought people in Pakistan, Ethiopia and the People’s Republic of Donetsk would be so vehemently opposed to a hunting and outdoors expo in Narooma? More to the point, what sort of community group is ethically corrupt enough to hang its hat on such a stunt?

Let me tell you why not a single signature on that petition is relevant and I mean aside from the fact that all but a miniscule few have no stake in the debate.

The petition was promulgated overseas where people have no idea what HuntFest is about, how it is managed, where it will be held, what the laws are governing such events, what its purpose is, what Australian culture is like and how it differs from the big bad US culture. They know nothing about the nature of the community HuntFest is held in, nor do they know that SAFE seeks support overseas because it has none at home, etc etc. No one who signed the petition has any of this information. All those who signed the petition know about HuntFest is what the petitioners told them, and that information was neither accurate nor unbiased. They certainly did not put the alternative position to the world.

Now while it may be fair to say that petitions are always somewhat one-sided, it is usual practice to run them in the location in which they are relevant. People in Narooma, the Eurobodalla, or even Australia-wide may have a finger on the pulse of the HuntFest debate; they may even visit HuntFest, but people in Ethiopia, Russia and Bulgaria do not. Yet such people account for the overwhelming majority of those who want HuntFest stopped. Let's be clear about this....they know next to nothing about the event but they want it stopped.

That anyone would sign a petition of any kind without making themselves comprehensively familiar with its subject from all perspectives, speaks volumes about the irresponsible nature of the 34,000. They are no better than the millions of cause junkies who recently signed a petition to force Steven Spielberg to stop hunting dinosaurs to the brink of extinction.  Sane people the world over realised it was satire. Millions did not and the petition went viral, garnering not only millions of signatures but also some of the most violent and offensive commentary on the Jurassic Park director's ethics and character one could possibly imagine...all of them from pacifists and animal lovers of course. And all because they saw a picture of Steven Spielberg posing with a gun while leaning against a dead Tyrannosaurus Rex.  

It is a well known phenomenon exploited by the desperate and unethical.  The easily led, the feeble minded and the dis-empowered will sign any online petition as a means of feeling as though they have flexed their virtual-muscles and exercised some power and control over a world they feel increasingly impotent in.

The fact that SAFE and the GREENS would submit such a petition to Council demonstrates their contempt for the Eurobodalla community. It proves, conclusively, that the consultation process they incessantly whined they’d not had, was nothing more than a vexatious demand to waste ratepayers’ money, because when the community fails to support the Greens and SAFE, the Greens and SAFE simply ignore their wishes and go fishing for support in Taipei.

The Greens and SAFE display a contemptuous paternalism for their community that is really quite offensive. They believe they must protect the poor hicks from themselves and that without their enlightened guidance and firm hand the community will descend into a state of violent anarchy nourished by the various follies of its simple hayseed mentality.

Not only is it time to call an end to the stupidity of the anti-HuntFest lobby, it is also time to rethink whether there is any room on Council for a representative who’d support a tactic that is so blatantly manipulative and disrespectful that it beggars belief.

The latest episode of the grand deception can be seen as it unfolds on WIN TV

Interestingly, Councillor Harding (The Greens) claims that HuntFest originally started out as a photographic and DVD competition and now, with an application lodged to include the sale of guns and ammunition, the event has changed from what was originally proposed.  It is strange that Councillor Harding would think this an odd state of affairs.  Many events commence as quite small affairs and with time change in response to consumer consultation.

It is when the scope and nature of endeavours do not change in response to stakeholder feedback, that they stagnate and die e.g. the Greens as a relevant political force in Australia.

The latest petition was presented to Councilor Harding by her co-conspirators with surgical precision and TV cameras rolling. What was not made clear was the fact that while the petition certainly carried many thousands of international signatories, it garnered precious little local support. 

As the image below shows, SAFE closed its local petition on October 6th 2014, by which time it had garnered the support of a measly 191 signatories, a considerable number of whom were not Eurobodalla or Narooma residents. 

They had demanded community consultation and the process had run its course. Faced with irrefutable evidence that the Greens and SAFE have an abysmal level of support for their 'sky is falling, we'll all be rooned' motif,  they had no choice but to switch to Plan B aimed at baffling the community with sheer numbers.

Of course had HuntFest's organisers been unprincipled souls, they too may have gone a-hunting for support overseas. Given the resurgence in hunting and target shooting activities the world over, it doubtless would have taken no time at all to secure 2million signatures or more. But had they done this, the Greens and SAFE would have been the first to cry foul claiming all manner of dark deals had been done with the "powerful US gun lobby" they see behind every corner and in every shadowy recess. 

One wonders how many of the people who signed SAFE's petition were members of 'People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals' (PETA), an organisation vehemently opposed to guns and hunting, a registered domestic terrorist agency in the US and carefully scrutinised in Australia? 

HuntFest began with modest objectives, as a photographic competition/exhibition and outdoors expo. It included displays and sales of outdoors and camping equipment, food and drink and so on. All the stuff you'll see at any outdoors expo. The Greens and SAFE opposed it.

The following year, based on feedback from its many supportive participants, HuntFest applied for a variation to its event licence that would permit the display of legal firearms and ammunition in order that the event might grow and continue to inject money into the economy. The Greens and SAFE opposed it.

In 2014, again in response to visitor consultation and feedback, HuntFest has applied for a variation to its event licence that would permit the sale of legal firearms and ammunition, thus growing the event in the hope of injecting even more money into the local economy than the $900,000 it brought to the area in 2014. Guess what....the Greens and SAFE oppose it.

The Greens and SAFE will continue to oppose HuntFest because it represents and aims to preserve an Australian tradition and culture they do not care for or respect. Yes, hunting is very much an Australian tradition and in fact one of the few traditions European Australians share in common with first nations Australians. For this very rare cultural nexus alone Australia's hunting traditions are worthy of respect, recognition and preservation.

Those who support the Greens' and SAFE's many and various intolerant petitions should be regarded in the same manner as members of the community who'd sign a "No to gay marriage!" or "No to Muslims in Narooma!" petition.  Such people do exist in the Eurobodalla. They are perhaps even more numerous than the anti-HuntFest lobby and doubtless if they launched a noxious petition internationally they too could produce 400,000 signatories or more in support of their bigotry, all of which I hope we would treat with the contempt they deserve. 

There are a number of simple facts that SAFE and the Greens have gone to great pains to keep from the community or indeed have striven to misrepresent in order to engender fear and hatred.

• HuntFest is not an "arms fair". This term has been seized upon in order to spread panic. HuntFest is a combination of hunting and outdoors expo and photographic exhibition.
  
  The term "arms fair" applies only to the permit required from the NSW Police Minister in order to sell legal firearms and ammunition at a temporary venue. This is a very small part of what HuntFest is about.  To call HuntFest an "arms fair" because it carries a permit of that name is like calling the annual Bega Show a liquor store or a pub because it must carry a liquor licence to sell beer at the bar 3 days a year.
  
  SAFE and the Greens are using the term "arms fair" in much the same way people once strove to make AIDS synonymous with the gay community, to demonise people and a lifestyle they do not approve of. It's as simple as that!

• HuntFest is not a "US style arms fair". This again is an effort to employ a bigoted epithet in order to create fear and loathing in the community.
  
  The Greens' and SAFE's own paraphernalia clearly exhibits a loathing of all things American. For instance they are continually telling us we do not want to go down the path of America.  They use the "American guns culture" catchcry because they want you to hear the words "HuntFest" and "arms fair" and immediately conjure images of surface to air missiles, anti-personnel mines, machine guns and Uzis, Lars Rockets and laser guided missiles, tanks and stealth aircraft.  All these things may indeed be available at a "US-style arms fair" but they can never be sold at HuntFest.
  
  To sell or even to display such items requires a Prohibited Arms Fair Permit. HuntFest does NOT have one. HuntFest will NEVER apply for one. HuntFest could NEVER be granted one in Narooma. 
  
  Quite aside from the fact that no-one would travel to the boonies to shop for a thermonuclear warhead or a Star Wars satellite, I'm reliably advised that the premises one must have access to in order to obtain a Prohibited Arms Fair Permit do not exist anywhere on the far south coast. However, that will not stop SAFE claiming that is HuntFest's ultimate objective, just you wait and see. 

• The amendments HuntFest has sought to its event licence will enable it to sell nothing during those two short days in June that cannot be purchased every day at sports & recreation, camping & outdoors centres in neighbouring shires. These items are legal and in fact they are essential tools of the land that Eurobodalla farmers, unlike farmers in all other NSW shires, cannot readily purchase.

•  SAFE has claimed that it is not necessary to sell guns and ammunition at HuntFest or anywhere else in the Eurobodalla because they may be purchased over the internet. This is false! It is illegal to deal in firearms and ammunition in this manner.

• No one can't just mosey into HuntFest, hand over some cash and walk out with a gun.  In order to acquire a gun in NSW one must first posses a NSW firearms licence. One must then complete a form known as a Permit to Acquire a Firearm (PTA form), in which one identifies the type of firearm sought, how it will be secured and sundry other details. Once lodged with the NSW Firearms Registry the PTA is subject to a cooling off period, after which the PTA may be issued. This authorised PTA form must then be presented to the point of sale.  HuntFest is only open to the public for 2 days!
  
  The purchase or disposal of any firearm must be conducted by a licensed NSW Firearms Dealer.

• In 2014 HuntFest brought an estimated $900,000 to the community during the off season. Events of a similar nature held elsewhere bring far greater sums to their community as they prosper and grow. Hunting contributed $439million to the Victorian economy in 2013 and created 3500 full time jobs.
  
  HuntFest's organisers would like to bring some measure of this prosperity to Narooma and the Eurobodalla. What's more, they have striven to do it at absolutely no cost to Council or the community.  If the organisers' efforts to contribute to the recovery of a once prosperous local economy are thwarted by political cowardice, local people, especially businesses, are certain to make their disappointment clear at the polls. 

• While HuntFest contributes to the community's prosperity, SAFE and the Greens continue to drain Council's coffers with vexatious complaints and stunts, all of which take up time that is paid for by the ratepayer. It has been estimated that opposition to HuntFest has already cost the ratepayer in excess of $100,000 and delayed a great deal of important Council business. Council will soon apply to introduce another rate increase because it just can't make ends meet on its current income. Remember SAFE and the Greens when your rates go up.

• The suggestion that hunters "kill for fun" is an emotive manipulative construct of the ignorant anti-hunter. The objective of the claim is to promote community hatred and opposition to the hunters' culture and lifestyle. The Greens and their groups claim to stand for peace and unity. In reality they promote hatred, intolerance, disdain antagonism and division in the community in order to marginalise all who oppose them.
  
  Those interested in learning a little about the real reasons people hunt, may be interested in the article Killing for kicks.

• Hunting is cruel. This claim is also made to drive the public into a frenzy of emotion and hatred. Death in nature is always cruel. There are no exceptions to this rule for all the reasons outlined in The gaping wound in the cruelty argument also on this site.  When an animal in the wild reaches the end of its span, the best it can home for is that the agony nature inflicts will not last too long. Creatures waiting to feast on a carcass will not wait until death before tucking in.
  
  The hunters' obligation is to strive to ensure that s/he inflicts no more inhumane a death than that which mother nature inevitably has in store.  The vast majority of hunters uphold this obligation and they respect and appreciate the life they take to sustain their own.  They are honoured to be a part of and subject to the eternal struggle, rather than mere observers.

In the final analysis it is not for the community to make thousands of submissions to prove HuntFest has its support. Anyone who has conducted consultation processes knows that people will not rally to support things they do not object to.  Fervent objections are nourished and powered by fear, anger and hatred, which SAFE and the Greens have in spades. Less volatile, more reasoned people in the community will be wondering what the fuss is all about. They will be rolling their eyes at SAFE's antics and facepalming each time they hear yet another Greens rant in the "you'll all be sorry when the world ends" motif. 

Their petition of 191 signatures about sums up their support-base and given that the Eurobodalla's population is around 37,000 souls, that result proves one thing beyond doubt. It proves that 36,809 residents did not sign the petition. Likewise in the case of Council's submissions process, if 200 submissions opposing HuntFest were received, it is certain that 36,800 residents are not concerned enough to make a submission.  This is the logic Council is obligated to apply to the process. 

The rules of Council's submissions process put hunters and firearms owners at a distinct disadvantage from the outset. Hunters and firearms owners are responsible people with a clear moral and legal obligation to ensure they do nothing to compromise the security of their firearms. Yet Council demanded that people include their full name and address with each submission, thus creating a list of addresses of all the firearms owners in the Shire. With theft one of the main means by which criminals obtain guns, firearms owners are ever reluctant to assist naive agencies to make shopping lists for the underworld that may be available for scrutiny by who knows whom. 

Still, I am confident that HuntFest will get the go-ahead to grow just as it should. Its organisers are not planning anything that breaches the law of the land and that should be the only issue under consideration. If a sports store were to open in the main street of Narooma, it should be permitted to sell a comprehensive array of sporting equipment, including legal guns, bows and ammunition just as stores do in less intolerant shires and towns. If the Greens and SAFE don't approve of the law, their course is clear. Rather than attempting to infect the law-abiding citizens of their community with the virus of hatred and bigotry, they should lobby the law makers for change. 

Anyway, I'll get outaya way now....

Update: Councillors' opinions regarding the petition's relevance to the debate have been sought by the Bay Post

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THE HUNTERS WAY (POEM)

Did you ever waken early, in the newborn frosted light,
Hear stones a-tumbling in a creek and Wonga take to flight.


Did you ever wrap your hands around a tin-cup to keep warm,
As you watched the mist that rises over wetlands with the dawn.

Did you ever sit on mossy ground, your back against a tree, 
And marvel there for hours, at all that you could see.

Breezes rippling through tall grasses, clouds that gather on the hills,
Wedge-tails spiralling for hours, Peewees bombing them for thrills.

Have you seen the blacksnake basking, in the first light of the day,
Have you smiled at little piles of thorns, that waddle ‘cross your way.

And when you knelt to drink your fill, from a pristine mountain stream,
Did you see the hunter looking back, unshaven tall and lean.

Did you recognise his hunger, did you question his right to kill,
Should you linger any longer, is his prey’s blood yours to spill.

And somewhere half detected in the corner of your eye,
Was your father’s face reflected, framed by a clear blue sky.

Did you feel him squeeze your shoulder, gently ruffle-up your hair,
With the shadows growing longer, were you sure you felt him there.

All the hunting yarns he’d told, were they echoed on the breeze,
Did the hunter’s arm enfold you, and put your doubts at ease.

Yes you feel the link eternal, that courses through your veins,
And you hear the ancient echoes, in the valleys hills and plains.

'Twas a sacred ageless legacy that drew you here this day,
And you’ll walk this land with honour, for that’s the hunters’ way.

- G. Mallard 2014

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KILLING FOR KICKS

As a lifelong hunter and environmentalist I find few claims more offensive than those suggesting hunters “kill animals for fun”, or derive pleasure from killing. That anyone might think hunting is about killing betrays a breathtaking level of ignorance. 

It is disingenuous to claim hunters do not enjoy hunting; of cause they do, but killing accounts for a nanosecond of the long and highly disciplined process dedicated and responsible outdoors-men and women call hunting.  It is the moment when the trigger is squeezed or the string loosed, and while it is likely the hunter is experiencing an adrenalin surge at this moment, few if any would interpret that sensation as ‘fun’. 

In fact, upon approaching game which has been successfully and swiftly brought down, hunters often report experiencing a profound feeling of reverence for the quarry, accompanied by a sense of sorrow and regret.  I have even seen a hunter’s eyes well-up with tears as a result of the emotional response commonly known as “hunter’s remorse”.

To reduce hunting to the instant of the kill is like attempting to convey the nature of chess by describing mate. But nor is it appropriate or accurate to describe hunting in grandiose terms as some noble contest between man and his prey. 

Hunting is certainly a contest, but it will perhaps surprise some to learn that for the most part it is a contest between the hunter and himself.

The hunt begins long before the hunter sallies forth into the field, camo-clad, bow or gun in hand.  Hunters spend inordinate amounts of time practicing to become as proficient as possible in their discipline. They’ll tune, retune and fine-tune firearms and bows. They’ll research the characteristics or various loads and projectiles to ensure a swift and humane kill. They’ll study the habits of their quarry with a commitment to detail bordering on obsession, and they’ll pore over maps studying terrains in an attempt to identify areas of likely interest to the quarry.

When finally in the field the hunter will check the terrain again, not only looking for signs of the quarry’s activity but also signs of recent human activity in the area. Once camp is set up he’ll check his arms to ensure they've not suffered for the jostling received on rough roads. After dinner when it’s dark and everything else is done, he might make his way to the top of a nearby ridge and with his binoculars, search for campfires below that betray the presence of other forest users.

All these activities are part of the hunt.

The hunter will go to bed early in preparation for an early start.  In the morning, after pouring coffee from a thermos made the night before so’s not to fill the damp morning air with the pungent scent of smoke, he’ll run through final equipment and supply checks before setting off into the field proper.

Now is the time of the ‘quickening’; that heightened state of awareness and closeness to the environment that draws so many to the hunters’ way of life. It’s marked by a hyper-sensitivity to movement, sound, sign and scent and it is in this state that the hunter will walk like a ghost for hours, making as little impact on the environment as possible.

The quickening is not driven by adrenalin, though it too may course through the hunters’ veins.  Rather, it is the product of a falling away of all the contrived complexities of modern life, to be replaced by a state of self-reliance the hunter longs to feel in common with those ancestors who’s attempts to convey the selfsame feelings of oneness with the environment were inscribed on cave walls by an ancient firelight.

The hunter does not walk the landscape as though its sole purpose were to entertain some ascended almost godlike creature that no longer considers itself to be subject to its caprices. The hunter immerses himself in the role that nature, with tens of thousands of years of evolutionary rehearsal, has cast him in. 

He wishes not simply to pass through, but to be subject to his environment.

This is the primary distinction between the hunter and the bushwalker. While the bushwalker may be able to appreciate the wondrous diversity and beauty of creation, he has also removed himself from it to a large extent, considering his role as that of benign caretaker or observer rather than a participant subject to nature’s eternal life and death struggles. 

The bushwalker and the hunter see the landscape through different lenses. One will view it from the path, seeing only that part of the landscape that dwells close to the path, while the other views the path only as a means of travelling deep into the landscape where he may leave the path behind to see what lies beyond.

The hunter is conscious of his every step. He feels the gentle roll of the earth from heel to toe underfoot. He feels the sharpness of a well-worn ridge trail through the soles of his boots and the spongy dampness of cool mosses on the valley floor, filled with twigs that may bend silently or snap with a silence-shattering crack depending on recent rainfall.

He knows the sound of the stone that tumbles dislodged from its resting place of a thousand years as he climbs an outcrop in search of a vantage point and he curses himself as it seems that stone will tumble down-hill through the scrub forever.

The hunter has sat in silence for long hours, his back against a tree, just thinking about life and the eternal verities as he looks out across bogs or lush fields well away from the beaten track. 

He has seen the sun rise and set over dry hills and across the valley floor, its passage marked by the chorus of one-hundred-thousand frogs. 

He has watched calmly as snakes slither across his path, he has watched the complex courtship rituals of birds while still others make frantic trips to and from nests to feed demanding young.

He has observed with wonder, the elaborate shapes of tiny orchids that grow and flower at his feet. He has seen the myriad varieties of tiny fungi that grow in the leaf-mold at the foot of ancient trees and he has sat perfectly still as cheeky skinks climb upon his boots to catch the sun’s first rays.

And because he travels in silence and well away from the tourist trails, he also observes another common occurrence in the bush; he observes death. 

He sees one beautiful creature killing another for survival, without guilt or malice. He sees where Death has walked across the landscape leaving bones to bleach in the sun, or perhaps just some feathers or a little fur to mark its path.

Sometimes the hunter comes across a creature too old and tired even to run; perhaps a roo just laying in the cool shade beneath a tree, hoping that Death will come swiftly and without too much torment, as a dozen opportunistic predators lay in wait close by. They'll not wait for Death to come before moving in. They’ll simply wait for their prey to give-in to the inevitable before their work begins.

Death is everywhere in the bush, just as life is everywhere and hunters appreciate this better than most. Not because they're harbingers of death themselves, but because their silent journeys off the beaten track make them witness to it more often that most forest users.

But the hunter's ultimate objective is to successfully stalk and kill his quarry and through this process he walks shoulder-to-shoulder with innumerable generations of hunters who've walked his path before.

Unlike so many of his harshest critics the hunter will take personal responsibility for the life he ends and will ultimately consume.

He will kill his quarry, bleed it, dress it in the field, remove its antlers, roll-up its hide and put its flesh in his backpack and he will carry the burden back to camp with the image of his quarry’s final moments of life at the forefront of his mind all the way. 

He will see the beast in his mind's eye. He will analyse the image over and over and in doing so he will venerate the beast for the gift of life its death has provided.

The ultimate in free-range organic meat will be eaten by the hunter and his family. The hide will be tanned and put to practical use and the antlers will be prepared for hafting onto blades and other tools, or perhaps carved into intricate works of folk art that communicate some aspect of the hunt to future generations.

The true hunter does not kill for kicks or thrills. It is participation in the hunt that evokes joy and satisfaction, not the nanosecond it takes to seduce his quarry with the hunter's kiss. 

He is engaged in a love-affair with nature and tradition; with moments spent in the role nature has cast his ancestors in for eons.  It's a role he challenges himself to recall by instinct and play with passion, dignity and respect.

Anyway, I'll get outaya way now....

The Hunters' Way

Did you ever waken early, in the newborn frosted light,
Hear stones a-tumbling in a creek and Wonga take to flight.
Did you ever wrap your hands around a tin-cup to keep warm,
As you watched the mist that rises over wetlands with the dawn.

Did you ever sit on mossy ground, your back against a tree,
And marvel there for hours, at all that you could see.
Breezes rippling through tall grasses, clouds that gather on the hills,
Wedge-tails spiralling for hours, Peewees bombing them for thrills.

Have you seen the blacksnake basking, in the first light of the day,
Have you smiled at little piles of thorns, that waddle ‘cross your way.
And when you knelt to drink your fill, from a pristine mountain stream,
Did you see the hunter looking back, unshaven tall and lean.

Did you recognise his hunger, did you question his right to kill,
Should you linger any longer, is his prey’s blood yours to spill.
And somewhere half detected in the corner of your eye,
Was your father’s face reflected, framed by a clear blue sky.

Did you feel him squeeze your shoulder, gently ruffle-up your hair,
With the shadows growing longer, were you sure you felt him there.
All the hunting yarns he’d told, were they echoed on the breeze,
Did the hunter’s arm enfold you, and put your doubts at ease.

Yes you feel the link eternal, that courses through your veins,
And you hear the ancient echoes, in the valleys hills and plains.
T’was a sacred ageless legacy that drew you here this day,
And you’ll walk this land with honour, for that’s the hunters’ way.

- G. Mallard 2013

If you would like to receive notifications when new posts are uploaded to the Hunters' Stand, send your name and email address to thehunterstand@gmail.com This service will not include notification of new comments. All information provided will be treated with the utmost confidentiality and discretion.

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