Editor’s Note: We have a new writer trying out a seat on TheWRITEaddiction bandwagon. Arianna Sikorski is a globetrotting “experience hunter” who generously allows us a front row peak into her myriad of adventures. The following is an excerpt from her website http://ariannasikorski.wix.com that has been reprinted with her consent.
August 10, 2014
Well it’s happened, I’ve gone possum hunting. I know, I know, my Californian and Australian friends will gasp and judge, but in New Zealand possums are considered a nonnative pest worse than rats. They breed like rabbits and kill the native bird and plant life, something considered extremely precious here, so it is not uncommon to see poison and traps set out on tramping trails with a loudly vocal NZ desire for their demise. Now, I admit, although the Alaskan half of me understands the necessity of shooting destructive pests for survival (squirrels, for instance, are an Alaskan enemy of insolation and carriers of disease), the other Californian half couldn’t help but hear Bambi crying “moooother” as my host and I zoomed off into the night to extinguish these native bush killing demons. Yes, a continual moral conflict ensued as I high beamed the trees looking for the red-eyed flashes of these night dwellers hoping their cuteness would not overcome practicality. And there is a practical function beyond extermination.
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