On this occasion, the party was in full swing and the lovely Stephanie was mingling. I watched the Major as he stood alone, tried (unsuccessfully) not to appear to be bored and, at short intervals, looked at his wrist watch. I went to keep him company. Our hostess had the same purpose and we simultaneously arrived at his side.
“You’re Major Peabody, aren’t you,” she began.
“Guilty,” he answered
“What a delight to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Mmmmmm,” was his response.
“You spend so much time communing with nature and with her wild creatures. I know you’re a hunter, but don’t you really believe animals merit our protection and should have rights, just as human beings have rights?”
“I used to dismiss the Animal Rights people as purveyors of anthropomorphic, metaphysical nonsense,” the Major said and his hostess began to look alarmed. He continued: “At first, I was sure such people had undergone brain surgery and the surgeon didn’t put everything back, but now I have reason to re-visit that conclusion. There may be something to Animal Rights after all.”
The hostess regained her composure and looked pleased. I couldn’t believe my ears. The Major was definitely not under the influence of single malt Scotch whisky. I could think of nothing else that might cause him to make such an uncharacteristic statement. Certainly anyone who knew him would have been stunned. I was so surprised I involuntarily exclaimed: “Oh?”
“You seem surprised, my boy,” said the Major. “Can it be possible you consider me to be an unreconstructed realist, congenitally unable to give lip service to positions maintained by people who have never worn out a pair of boots in their entire lives and wouldn’t recognize Mother Nature if she knocked them down and sat on them.”
“Yes,” I admitted, as our hostess again began to look disturbed.
Peabody smiled at her and went on: “Please be assured,” he said to her, “not a single matter involving the environment and the out-of-doors escapes my attention and careful consideration. Take this matter of Animal Rights, for example. Our Founding Fathers declared all men to be created equal and endowed with certain inalienable rights, including life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. The Animal Rights folks claim these constitutional guarantees should be extended not only to men, but also to women and other animals.”
His statement was reassuring, but the last phrase did nothing to completely erase our hostess’ anxiety. The Major’s sincerity and his next words led her to volunteer another cautious smile.
“I’m willing to wholeheartedly accept your suggestion to recognize Animal Rights”, Peabody said as he maneuvered her into a corner where she could not escape. “As much as I applaud your efforts,” the Major added, “I don’t believe Animal Rights advocates have addressed a matter that should concern us all. If animals are to have rights, they must also have responsibilities.” A look of uncertainty re-appeared on the hostess’ face.
Major Peabody smiled at his hostess and said: “I have seen groups of your friends carrying signs and railing against Canadians who, in accordance with their government’s regulations, harvest seals. Polar Bears eat seals. I’ve seen no one carrying signs on the frozen tundra or picketing a Royal Canadian Mounted Police station, insisting they take Polar Bears into custody and prosecute them for murder and cannibalism.
“Geese trespass on farmers’ posted fields. They steal corn and grain and fly off to protected sanctuaries where the Constable cannot serve them with papers hailing them into court and requiring them to defend themselves against charges of criminal trespass and felony theft. There is no attempt to make them pay civil damages for their depredations.
“Moreover geese leave their calling cards on golf courses, in parks and on lawns surrounding waterways. If you were to perform their very same acts, the police would be after you in a minute. To my knowledge, not a single goose has ever been charged with indecent behavior or littering.
“If a teacher gives some schoolboy a well deserved backhander, the School Board and the public at large call it Child Abuse and will have her hide. Female gorillas steal simian babies, fish eat fry, male black bear, if given a chance, will kill their young. Nevertheless, child abuse in the animal kingdom goes unpunished.
“I believe in Equal Justice. I believe animal wrongdoers should be subject to the same fines and prison terms that are meted out to human criminals. If you are to have any credibility at all, your proposals to give rights to animals must contain provisions requiring the animals to assume responsibilities. You must provide for regulations to bring animal malefactors to justice.
“I will happily volunteer to work with your Legislation Committee to draft appropriate terminology for an Animal Responsibility law. Please ask the committeepersons to tell me the dates and times of their next meetings and I will arrange my schedule, but, I must inform you now, I believe in the death penalty.”
A bewildered hostess edged out of the corner, mumbled something about “How very interesting”, and fled.
At the end of the month when I delivered the Major’s Spendthrift Trust remittance, he recalled the conversation. “Can you believe it?” he said. “In spite of my generous offer to assist them, no one ever contacted me. It must have been my support of the death penalty.”
It’s Hell to Grow Old
Jerry Olsen owns hunting land deep in the Maine woods. The land contains a cabin. The cabin contains a wood stove and Coleman lanterns because it is far from electricity and propane gas services. The building consists of one large room with enough double bunks to sleep six – twelve if everyone is real friendly. The walls are decorated with pictures from long out-of-date calendars, horns and a few poorly mounted birds and fish. On a sunny day it might be possible to see through the windows. The floor is covered with linoleum that showed wear and tear twelve years ago. There is nothing inside the cabin that would tempt a thief.
I know about that cabin. Three years ago I spent two nights there. I intended to spend only one, but when I tried to leave on the morning of the second day, I became so hopelessly lost in the maze of abandoned, muddy, two rut logging roads that I believe it was only by the intervention of a Divine Providence that I managed to find my way back to the cabin before the sun had set and I was left alone in the dark, surrounded by vicious wild beasts.
This was my second visit to Jerry Olsen’s cabin in the woods. Mr. Olsen had invited Major Peabody, Doctor Carmichael and two others to join him to participate in what he called The Seventeenth Annual Lying and Opening Day Ruffed Grouse Hunting Competition. He always invited four hunters because he didn’t consider it to be poker unless there were at least five people at the table. The Major and Doc Carmichael always participated in the annual competitions, but there is no guarantee that anyone will be re-invited. If a hunter behaves badly or ground swats a bird, he is blacklisted forever.
I was again in attendance, not because I was invited, but because the first day of the month occurred in the middle of the planned hunt and I was obliged to deliver the Major’s Spendthrift Trust remittance on that day. This time I had the foresight to demand a detailed map showing the way from cabin to county road. I did not appreciate the little explanatory notes that Mr. Olsen added to his hand drawn map. Notes like: LOOKOUT - Bear Den Here, and BE CAREFUL - Watch for Wolverines and Poisonous Snakes.
When I arrived at the camp, I expected to
