Bobcot died to become a rug

When hunting season ended, we were relieved. At last, we so foolishly thought, we won’t have to be subjected to pictures of murdered animals splashed across the pages of what is (sadly) the area’s only newspaper. How wrong we were! There in the Jan. 20 edition in the Feather’s and Fins column (aka, slay ’em and gut ’em), was the saddest picture we have ever seen. A 57-pound bobcat lay dead, sprawled in the back of some jerk’s pickup truck like so much cordwood.

She must have been magnificent in life, living unmolested for countless years in the woods of Maine, hunting game, (most of which would be considered by some as “pests”), and raising many generations of young. In short, doing exactly what nature intended her to do. She was a true and majestic symbol of America’s rapidly vanishing wildlife.

Why was she killed? Was she ruthlessly stalking our children, leaping through bedroom windows to snatch our babies from their cribs? No. Was she waiting in the woods, tracking people with all her stealth and cunning, only to leap with teeth and claws slashing, on unsuspecting campers? No. Did she sneak into farms at night, avoiding fences, barbed wire, dogs, and shotguns, to kill a farmer’s chickens in their coops? Once again, no. Why was she killed? She died to become … a rug!

This sickens us beyond words. Not only is she dead, but she was trapped. She died a slow, agonizing death, struggling to free herself from the blinding pain, wondering why, since she harmed no one, was this terrible fate dealt her? Finally, after enduring who knows how many hours of agony, shock and blood loss mercifully freed her from her pain. All for a lousy rug. Doesn’t seem worth it, does it?

Shame on the so-called human being who committed this crime against nature. Here’s hoping he stumbles into one of his own traps, hopefully a big one. And shame on the BDN (Bloody Daily News) for printing such a ghastly picture. If there was another comprehensive newspaper in the Bangor area, the BDN would never soil our hands again. Richard R. DeBlois Jr. Sandra A. DeBlois, Bangor