The hunt, the tent or the death of the deer?

And because the summer season has opened, and this year we spend more holidays around the country and around the house, I'm thinking of taking my dog and my tent, and going somewhere in the mountains. To rest, to sleep, to make up for the neglected time of the dog, to look for fungi and stray zen. And I beat my head where I can grab it, and where to pitch my tent, so that I can let my dog fly free without being shot!

The centralizer of hunting funds says that the total area in Romania for hunting is 22,047,504 hectares. And Romania has a total area of 23,839,700 hectares. Roughly speaking, the 93% from the surface of our country is a hunting ground. Less the capital and nature reserves, but there he does not receive me with the tent. In second place is Suceava. This is a big dilemma, because if the family's four-legged friend leaves the 7% safety zone of Romania, he can be shot without restrictions. Nasol.

In 2015, the Police registered a no. of 107,511 lethal weapons with hunting destination, in Romanian one lethal weapon for every 180th inhabitant of the country. And the law kind of protects hunters. At Sasca Mică, my friend Dănuț Lucaciu's dogs were shot, right next to the houses. At the Tree they wreaked havoc, as the children contacted us to tell us how the road to Clit was littered with the corpses of the shot puppies. At Cacica in the forest they shot again, but the poor puppy lives. Through Zvorâștea a boy is still shooting cats in the houses, but he is calm, no one has been looking for him yet. In Yaslovat, they shot a white caterpillar right in front of a house. The truth is that they like to shoot dogs, and they do it with passion.

There are about five categories of hunters in my mind. The rich, the hunters in the green, the hunting politicians, the poachers, and our ancestors. The latter, that is, the real ones, hunted to survive, to eat and to cover their bodies with furs. They were intelligent, and used all the senses that their mothers endowed them with when they gave birth to them (so as not to confuse the deer with the colleague).

The rich hunter pays dearly to kill and satisfy his inner thirst for blood. He flies by plane, travels hundreds of kilometers with his jeeps, and arrives in the Carpathians. Where the bear, already fed and prepared in advance, is waiting for him. He, the rich man, climbs into hiding, and if he is too old and softened to do so, his servants climb him up with their armchairs. The bear comes to the feeder and this time, just like Guledere from Predeal. He looks for him with the telescope, he even walks the point on the animal's back, on his belly, on his shoulders and prolongs the moment, because that excites him. Sometimes their eyes also intersect. The master of the woods face to face with a coward. He executes his toy, but he is careful not to crush his pride, because he paid dearly for the trophy. And the servants cut the thief. Then he flies back home, sees the forests of Romania from the plane, runs his hand through his mustache, and already knows that he will definitely return to our dear country. These rich people still have the habit of meeting each other, of talking unofficially, and they go to golf in England, or to safaris through Africa, but they kill him and come hunting in Romania.

Hunters in green have jeeps, camouflage clothes, are organized into gangs or degrees of kinship - brother - in - law - nephew, invest a lot in logistics and modern technology (thermal detection, infrared), sometimes pay and serve hunters to tomorrow the game in the wilderness, they even have a Hunting Authorization.

The poor poachers are many, small and hungry. Like the common people. If they want to put a game pastrami on the table, or sell a black trophy, they go straight to the forest. They have no scruples, but they have complexes. They did not allow a lethal weapon, but they stay with the gun in the attic, like the boys caught last week in Sucevita.

The subject of poaching - hunting is long, slippery, especially because of the barons and important people in landscapes and institutions. And so we enter the last category, that of hunting politicians. Until 1989 I had a great dictator, and a great hunter. Ceausescu had the ambition to be the first hunter in the country, and those around him even made him think he was. Now we have more and more little ones, who have discovered a new passion. They do not know the term 'wild animal', but only 'hunted', and this linguistic embarrassment reflects precisely the contempt it shows for everything that life means. But I swore I didn't do politics.

There is a lot of hunting in Romania. Enormous. The first Hunting Law drafted after the Revolution was in 1996. Since then it has been amended about 15 times, the last being Law 145/2015 - which also led to protests by poor shepherds in front of Parliament, outraged by the limitation of the number of dogs sheepfold, their shooting and shortening the grazing period. But it is also absurd that the Law protects hunters. Nowhere in the European legislation does the term 'dog or stray cat' exist, and in Romania not only does it exist, but they can also be shot without restrictions once found somewhere on that surface of 93% in Romania, as far as hunting is concerned.

Any authorized gunman would feel entitled to shoot at all dogs and cats in Romania if they are not tied on a leash, or if they do not have a jujeu around their neck, a distinctive sign of sheepfold shepherds. Romanian ornithologists accuse dogs of destroying biodiversity, but without figures or statistics - and the lack of clear evidence means irrational behavior. But isn't man the greatest enemy of biodiversity? Greenpeace Romania says that every year a quantity of wood disappears four times the volume of the People's House. A man with a whole mind and soul loves nature and its spectacle, and the naturalness of life is that forests and hills are home to wild animals.

In the 21st century we are contemporaries of a genocide on biodiversity, and behind it remain only hunting statistics and cleared forests on the face of the earth. We live in a Romania of domains, quotas and hunting permits. Let's talk about morality and empathy? About how pathological does a society have to be to afford to kill animals for pleasure?

So where do I go with the tent, and let my dog run without fear of being shot? I don't really have a place this summer!

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