An untimely end for a beautiful Black Bear

An untimely death
In Wisconsin
Baits set
What we have now to know
Lets begin

4 million gallons
Of Bear Bait are thrown
On public land
The disrespect shown
Just So much woe
So much misjudgement
There
Attracting the wolves
As well
As the bear

So theres tension and chaos
And mayhem
And so
many remain unaware
As we know

Hunters are guilty
This sugary muck
Which does include
Chocolate so toxic
The buck
Is theres its the hunters
Such toxicity
to canids
Their ignorance
How can they be

Out in the wilds
All that foul smelling
Waste
Draws hungry bears
As we know YES
Post haste

And waiting
To ambush the hungry
Are hunters
Gun ready to fire
To murder the beast
Who thinks there’s a feast
When reality proves
Just how dire

And who do we see
a young child
Ten years old
Just Waiting there
Rifle cocked
She is sold
Are you shocked
With her grand father
Sat there in tow
Bang he’s dead
Well Bang only wounded
We know
Bang still not dead
Off runs the wild one
Mortally hurt
Inflicted with spite
And with two lumps of lead

Baiting wild souls
Tempting them to
Come to a spot
To be shot
It is true
It is iniquitous
That is for sure
Ungodly behaviour
Immoral and more

A ten year old child
Such, dishonesty
From the grandfather
With her
And That bear painfully
Shocked out of existence
Woefully so
Runs off in a panic
An infernal blow

Hunters with hounds
Often drawn to the bait
Are attacked by the wolves
Its an unbalanced state
Its crude and its wicked
So wrong that it should
Be policed out
But sadly those groups
Are no good

They favour the hunters
There should be a ban
On baiting wild souls
Which they do because they can
Its criminality
And all the blame
Is laid at their door
Again and again

Their lack of contrition
And obduracy
And with this tale
A child
Tragically
And what have we witnessed
A wild soul who felt
Being shot twice
Of The cards he was dealt

Being awful beyond words
But dragged himself away
The child and her grandfather
They didnt stay
They could come back
The next day
And see if they could find
They just went home
It was out of their mind

They came back the next day
Hoping to be
Able to find the great conquest
And see
If they Could high five and
Find their display
And sure enough
Did
And despatched him they say

After all of those hours
They found the poor soul
His ebbing powers
His loss of control
Their heartlessness
His groaning his weeping
His wailing distress

Blubbering whimpering
Hopeful that he
Could just crawl away
But it wasn’t to be
A third bullet fired
His misery left
The torture was over
We all are bereft

Such unfathomable cruelty
And disrespect
A child in the wild
Was defiled I detect
That she was rewarded
By slaps on the back
Her first kill
The hideousness and a
A stack
of expletives
Now Come to mind
Of this most graceless tale
Her first bloody kill
Was an obvious FAIL.

Well Mr Bob Bell
You created a HELL
on earth
Bringing back to
Our minds long ago
At Blood River Falls
Where the forbidding calls
Where the gargoyles and harridans
Wandered around
Where the butt ugly hideous
Unseemly odious
Murder and mayhem
Did once abound

Back in 1800 some 100 years
Saw murder and madness
And So many tears
Brent Swancer wrote of them
The demons the ghosts
The evil the obscene
Many were hosts
To the most impure ugliness
Ever imagined
And now bears are butchered
And tortured we see
Recreating the horror
YES transgressing we be

Imagine the pain
The hope and how wrought
The monotonous hours
A healing he sought
All his emotion and thoughts
Now he bares
And it all becomes ugly
Despite his prayers

To work out his weight
You remove his entrails
Add12.5 per cent
Really this pales
In the contempt
But its how you can work out
The weight
And whether its a record
Now isn’t that great.

For me its the worst kind of taste
Its barbarism
Ugly and debased
For a ten year old child
To experience this
And imagine such evil
Equates as bliss

The aura the blood loss
The scent of the kill
The arrogance and ignorance
His family still
Mourns his sad passing
His cubs and his mate
Terribly sad
For their great fathers fate

Hunters are craven
Mummy’s boys who
And, as for girls
Well now can it be true
It gives me the jitters
I do have to say
Having worked around butchers
I recall to this day

Their evil the ugliness
Their consciousness they
Are crude they are rude
At the end of the day
Lewd in their thinking
Disrespectful of life
Heartless and pitiless
Skilled with the knife
Boning and slicing and
Giving me grief
That a ten year old child

Its beyond my belief