I have never been so pleased to finish a working week. That was exhausting. Phew.
The proposed badger cull that should be starting later this week in Hertfordshire, England has been playing on my mind.
I read the article on The Guardian website; you can read it here, that states that the government have given the go ahead for a ‘full scale badger cull.’ This due to pressures from farmers that have had cows dying from bovine tb. Badgers carry bovine tb and a lot of people believe that the over population of badgers is helping spread the disease further.
Scientists have had mixed results from the localised tests meaning that it isn’t really clear which badgers are affecting bovine tb. A ten year study and trial into badger culling found that culling wouldn’t actually have any effect or meaningful contribution in controlling bovine tb. Yet the proposals are going through and it is thought that a third of badgers will be killed. Scientists, that work on fact and nothing more, are claiming the cull is “crazy” and I have to agree. There’s a good article on BBC News, you can read it here.
I think it’s sad that to try and stop one animal dying, the government is willing to allow the killing of another. It’s usual in history that if a population of animal becomes too much of an annoyance where it lives, it is culled to ensure that the ‘natural’ balance is sustained in that particular environment. It is, in fact, to ensure that humans are not messed with in terms of food production and other such things.
It is natural for particular species to go through increases and decreases in population size. Yes, it affects the whole hierarchy and food chain for that particular habitat, but it’s normal. If humans weren’t around with their continually meddling ways and needs to save the world, if we just sat back, we would see that nature would survive, and actually thrive, without us.
Just because an animal is deemed a pest or believed to be an inconvenience does not mean that we should instantly look to ways of killing it and controlling the population. Human beings are creating an even bigger strain on the world’s resources and have impeded on a lot of other habitats to make room for our ever growing world population. Yet we still feel that we are better than everything else on this Earth. I am not comparing the killing of an animal with that of a human but the vein is very similar.
Killing an animal because it is deemed a pest is ridiculous. Killing these badgers because of a hypothesis that they are spreading the bovine tb at a faster rate although there is no scientific proof is just as bad. It’s just as ridiculous. It’s arrogant idiocy.
I have wanted a dog for as long as I remember. As a child my parents decided to deprive me of such an important thing in my childhood. There was an always an excuse: “We live in a flat/We don’t have time for a dog/ They’re too expensive/ We have a garden now but we have long schedules/ Oh look at that, we got a cat instead.”
They compensated for the lack of a canine companion in our family by allowing us to have other animals instead: goldfish, hamsters, budgies, cockatiels, canaries, terrapins, gerbils, rabbits and cats. Oh and I have a younger sister, that counts too.
I love every single animal I have had the pleasure of having in my home. My first goldfish was the best goldfish in the world. I was six and he was very fat. He once got stuck in a shell and we had to hammer the shell open to get him out and he survived. He was like superman. In my memory he was born at more or less the same time I was which makes him a God of Fish. Every single pet I have had as bought me countless memories, lots of headaches, lots of laughs, lots of work and lots of love.
I now have two cats, two cockatiels, one rabbit and my sister owns two hamsters which are often the cause of me sneaking into her room. They’re all happy, crazy animals; although Jack, our male cockatiel is just plain mean. If it wasn’t for Hope, his girlfriend and our female cockatiel, convincing him otherwise he would have escaped his cage and killed me in my sleep: Alfred Hitchcock’s Birds style.
Anyway I’m moving off topic. I deserve a dog. I’m 21, I’m a graduate and I’m going to start an intensive six month course in September. I mean, sure, that would sound like I wouldn’t have time to look after said dog but I would. I would treat that dog like friggin royalty. I look at other people walking their dogs and wonder how far I could get if I was to just steal the dog away. I mean, no one holds onto leashes that tightly. If I carried scissors in my bag I would have probably stolen one by now. Maybe two.
I deserve a dog because I am a good daughter. I deserve a dog because I will love him unconditionally. I deserve a dog because I would be the best damn dog owner ever. I deserve a dog because I would not dress him in human clothes thus humiliating him and taking away from him any of the doggy reputation he once had. I deserve a dog because I would take him for walks at least twice a day; he would motivate me to exercise and I would motivate him to well, well I would go for walks with him like he wants.
I love my current pets. In fact Matilda, one of our cats, is currently sleeping beside me with her paw on my leg: in case I run away. She loves me that much. Animals and children seem to be attracted to me, like polar ends of a magnet. Case in point would be in Central Park in New York City: the boy and I were wandering through and somehow I ended up crouching on the ground with two squirrels in touching distance and feeding birds out of my hand. I was kind of like Snow White but more sweaty and a lot less talented with the whole singing thing.
Anyway, I deserve a dog because I am awesome. Thinking about it, I know it may not be feasible right now. Although I will never admit this to either of my parents. Yet I still can’t help but daydream whenever I’m walking somewhere, becoming more common now that my car is sick, of finding a dog during my walk and taking him home to nurse him, love him and finally have a canine companion.
Any of the dogs in this little gallery will suffice. All photos were found on my wanderings of the world wide web.
What is wild? According to the dictionary wild means: living in a state of nature; not tamed or domesticated. So essentially it’s someone that hasn’t had the training or the education to fit our society’s norms.
A lot of people, and if today’s music and films are to be believed someone that’s described as wild usually likes to drink, have fun, and live more for entertainment than anything else. They tend to cause their parent’s headaches. I guess that means I’m not wild. Yes, I get drunk every once in a while (a rarity of late due to work: my wild reputation would already be in tatters as a result) and yes sometimes I do stupid things but I’m not out of control which is what the word wild used in today’s manner implies. Strange really because I don’t see the word wild in this way. The word that springs to mind when I am told of reckless or irresponsible behaviour is stupid not wild. I don’t care if Drake sings that it’s his ‘birthday and he’ll get high if he wants to’ because he’s a wild guy. It doesn’t make the word mean substance abuse makes you a wild character.
I like to think that the word wild means acting on instinct. It means dancing in the rain because you want to, or climbing that mountain because you’ve always wanted to see the sunset from that high. It’s being brave enough to tell someone to ‘leave you alone’ because they’re a drain on your happiness, or taking the plunge and telling him or her that you love them. A wild animal isn’t stupid, they act on instinct; pouncing on their prey, attacking or running away when the time feels right. They want to survive so they live on instinct but that instinct tells them not to be stupid or reckless. They need to survive.
I think that meaning of wild got lost in the plethora of singers singing about wild parties and films showing high teenagers having an ‘awesomely wild’ adventure. But that’s not wild, it’s just stupid. That’s ignoring all the instincts telling you to survive and be alert – just in case. I’m not judging people who drink (as I am guilty of enjoying the odd alcoholic beverage). I am not judging those that decided that having a good time is getting totally wasted on whatever substance you choose: vodka, weed or glue or all I know. But I do think people should be clear that that isn’t them being a crazy, wild and thus exciting person. It isn’t. Simple as.
Wild is bravery, acting on instinct to create amazing adventures that you’ll remember the morning after. Wild is throwing society’s constraints on you away and doing things your way. It’s being smart enough to live life properly doing wild and crazy things like a a parachute jump or swimming with sharks.
Being the wild one is being unafraid to live each day as if it is your last. Being the wild one doesn’t mean you want to being incoherent and lose control for a few hours all for the honour of saying ‘man I was SO drunk last night’, being the wild one is being able to tell stories that sound like make-believe because they’re so incredible. It’s doing the impossible just because you can.