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Home Page | Urban Interface | Mick's Story
SHREDDED TREE, SHREDDED COYOTE
by Kim Henrick
10/19/09
Illustration 1
Illustration 2
I never saw
the coyote, but I imagined the beaten-down animal's struggle
against the large juniper tree it was anchored to. Juniper
trees, in the few areas around Hungry Mountain that haven't
burned in the last several years, provide welcome shelter to
many desert animals, but this tree was now a coyote's
prison. The leg trap had been placed in a logical nook on
the north side of the tree, where long, spindly branches
arched over a natural den. A scent pack had been unwrapped
and set within the inviting area to entice a coyote in. A
piece of scent pack litter near the site was the only sign a
human had been there.
Juniper trees naturally shed some of their bark during the
year. Long strips of outer bark often fall away from the
trunk in thin, arching strings. But what I saw that day
wasn't from anything natural. The scene evoked images of a
frenzied, desperate animal trying to chew and claw its way
to freedom. It was in survival mode and attacked every inch
of the nearby branches. It looked as if someone had hacked
at the tree's exposed skin for days with a hatchet.
I had seen an illegal trap earlier that week while hiking on
our neighbor's property, so I wasn't surprised to come upon
this site. My husband and I had been told that trappers only
had to check a site every 96 hours, but it didn't mean that
much to me at the time. But now it meant that a frightened,
hungry, thirsty animal can thrash around helplessly and
violently day after day after day after day—for 96 hours
or 5760 excruciating minutes. The best case scenario is a
coyote gets caught in a trap minutes before the trapper
returns to kill it. Who would think a quick death at the
hands of a trapper would be preferable to anything else.
We know the trapper. He's a neighbor, a friendly fellow who
waves and grades the roads and claims to be a “good”
hunter. He moved his traps after we complained to him.
Apparently, not getting permission to trap on someone's
private property didn't mean he wasn't a “good” hunter.
We still reported him to the Nevada Wildlife folks and we
got a civil reply, basically: The hunter is not doing
anything wrong, now that he's moved his traps. He's
following regulations now and we see no problem. We support
his activities.
I broke off one of the shredded branches and have kept it
close for the last few years. It is a reminder that trapping
isn't hunting. It is not a sport. There is nothing fair or
sports-like or honorable in torturing a wild creature day
after day after day after day. The final blow or bullet or
last ragged breath shouldn't be the best moment of a trapped
animal's final experience. In fact, it will be a very
persuasive person who ever convinces me that trappers are
not the most cowardly hunters of all.
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