As a keen observer attentive to human behavior I’m able to reach certain conclusions, this is but one.

“Sportsmen,” as hunters, trappers, and fishers like to call themselves, boast of being an outdoors type. No denying they spend time out-of-doors; though I suspect in little to no appreciation of nature. Regardless, they are no crusaders of conservation as they like to claim. But instead are inconsiderate imbeciles, poorly skilled assassins who rely on means beyond their feeble naked abilities to capture and kill the innocent and vulnerable. Thieves and murderers of the wild and free, these sportsmen are no complement to the natural order of prey and predator but instead its psychopathic curse.

My granddaughter and I kayaked the Ohio River one summer’s day. We set ashore on Sand Island to explore and have lunch. Fishing line knitted the beach, miles of mono- and multi-filament line exposed and partially buried beneath the sand. There were plastic bags and bottles, beer and soda cans, styrofoam cups and broken coolers and bait containers galore. There was a multitude of discarded tackle. Hooks large and small, treble and single left on lines to snag any unsuspecting wildlife. There was the stench of rotting maggot infested corpses and the skeletal remains of the suffocated “undesirables” caught and thrown ashore with no more regard than their garbage.

One day’s experience, one small but not insignificant example of sportsmen conservation. Their sordid behavior, as I continue to witness, is the rule, not the exception. Their litter poisons and pollutes the wide spaces, oft times with trash receptacles nearby. These thoughtless dregs hold my disgust to the utmost as they of lower purpose disparage vegans, the environmentalists intrinsic.

We picked up and carried away discarded bags and stuffed them with what fishing line we could pull free, much of which was buried too deeply to extract by hand, a testament to these sportsmen’s persistent defilement. Our effort, however noble, was an unnoticeable improvement to the whole.

Sportsmen… bah!


  1. A superb post, Peter. I share your disgust and frustration with the dark tradition: the sanctity of myths, the association with the bonding steeped in the wholesome American ideal personified in that opening fishing sequence for the Andy Griffith Show: the right of passage as birthright over the centuries. Set that against the actual history of destiny most manifest: Columbus Day (still a holy day on most calendars” genuinely marks the first day of genocide for all the sentient lifeforms indigenous to a balanced ecosystem, become a wasteland extending deeply into the skin and muscle of Planet Earth:

    “Fishing line knitted the beach, miles of mono- and multi-filament line exposed and partially buried beneath the sand… the stench of rotting maggot infested corpses and the skeletal remains of the suffocated “undesirables” caught and thrown ashore with no more regard than their garbage.”

    Martha, the final passenger pigeon is on permanent display less than ten miles from here at the Cincinnati Zoo. Zoos are another tradition that you are never to ever question…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh yes, the Andy Griffith Show, I had forgotten about that bit of Hollywood propaganda promoting the traditional joy of father and son outings.

      “Arawak men and women, naked, tawny, and full of wonder, emerged from their villages onto the island’s beaches and swam out to get a closer look at the strange big boat. When Columbus and his sailors came ashore, carrying swords, speaking oddly, the Arawaks ran to greet them, brought them food, water, gifts. He later wrote of this in his log:
      ‘They … brought us parrots and balls of cotton and spears and many other things, which they exchanged for the glass beads and hawks’ bells. They willingly traded everything they owned… . They were well-built, with good bodies and handsome features…. They do not bear arms, and do not know them, for I showed them a sword, they took it by the edge and cut themselves out of ignorance. They have no iron. Their spears are made of cane… . They would make fine servants…. With fifty men we could subjugate them all and make them do whatever we want.” From Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States.'”

      I did a piece on Martha sometime back:

      Thank you for reading and commenting, Bill.


      Liked by 1 person

      1. Fishing, as a family value, is solidly anchored in the soil (in this case, filth) of American cultured culture. Four fingers, opposing thumb, and the skill of sorcerers’ apprentices allow all that moored fishing line to be produced in massive quantities by near-to-actual slave labor, and with the marketing skill to get the customer’s ass to the sporting-goods store, keeping the flow of plastic sewage growing at an increasing rate —contributing to the gross national product: the measure of societal worth.

        Liked by 1 person

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