Hunting Season

hunting season Every Saturdays and Sunday there is a war going on in the woods, man against birds and rabbits. On my lemon tree sparrows and hawks sit and wait for Monday. In my garden rabbits seek shelter from shoot gun pellets, eat my flowers and dig holes. My dog is desperate its instinct is to go out and kill them. Killing for sport, is like bullfighting without spectators, grown men, sneaking about amongst trees slaughtering the innocent; not unlike the Settlers behaviour against the Palestinian olive pickers and goat herders. Monday morning I shovel wheel barrow’s full of bird droppings from the ground that is also full of holes. Something got to be done with these awful animals, why do they not move to neighbouring woods and seek shelter there?