Anthony Marr’s adventures in Taiji, Japan


This is for those who may have entertained, however vaguely, the delicious dream of going to Taiji to raise some hell. I realized this dream. Will you?

My dream was more than just going to Taiji to raise some hell, but exactly what kind of hell I was going to raise. I had devised a technique to communicate with bottlenose dolphins, and I wanted to go and tell the Taiji bottlenose dolphins to never, ever, enter The Cove. It wasn’t a proven technique, and I wanted to test it in Taiji, and save some dolphins while at it. Other activists go to Taiji to document the massacre for the world to see. And thanks to their work, I too had been motivated to come. But I didn’t want to document any massacre. I wanted to prevent the massacre from happening, so that there would be no massacre to document.

I cannot reveal my actions blow by blow. Suffice to say that during those two weeks of my being there at Taiji, not a single dolphin died. It should be on their record that during those two weeks in November of that year, not a single dolphin was captured or killed. I would have stayed longer, but one day, when I was parking the rental car at a restaurant in Katsuura, the nearby town with the hotels, an unmarked car pulled up and blocked it, and, as in Shimonoseki, two men came out, and one talked to me in English. His opening line was, “Mr. Marr, I would like you to follow us back to your hotel please, which we believe is the Blue Horizon?” Not a question. There, in the cafeteria, they interrogated me for close to two hours, after which they politely asked me to basically get out of town by sundown. It was heart-breaking to have to leave, but I would rather leave prematurely than not be able to leave at all, so that I could go back another day.

This article is not to tell you what to do in Taiji, but to show you Taiji itself, so that you can figure out what to do yourself.

Taiji is a small town of 3500 in 6 square kilometers in the Wakayama prefecture on the “groin” of Japan, and best accessed by car from Osaka. The coastal route is recommended, because if you had taken the inland route, you would have missed at least the sight of the two coastal whaling harpoon boats in dry dock which you otherwise most likely would never see.

Upon approaching Taiji, you will see signs of welcome, although in Taiji itself, a rental car with Tokyo plates is considered alien.

Note that there are just two roads going in and out of Taiji that connect to the highway.

Just before you turn off the highway (R42) into Taiji, you will see a beautiful bay with pearl cultivation in evidence.

As soon as you turn into the Taiji road, the first thing you will see is the sculpture of a Humpback whale and her calf. The Humpback whale has been extirpated in these parts. This reminds me of the California state flag, yes, the one with the Grizzly bear, the only Grizzly bear left in California, or the Bald eagle driven to extinction in the U.S. Even today, Japan wants to hunt Humpback whales in the Antarctic.

And you will see signs advertising “Swim with dolphins” programs.

Within a couple of hundred yards from the Humpback whale statue and to your left you will see the “World Dolphin Resort”, which is no resort for dolphins. More like a prison.

These pens are the permanent home of the captive dolphins.

Within this dolphin prison, dolphins are “trained” to do meaningless things for the entertainment of humans.

Right across the road on the right hand side you will see Dolphin Base, which is the company that provides the World Dolphin Resort with their captive dolphins, which they capture right here in Taiji.

And they ship dolphins to aquariums which would accept wild-caught dolphins, like this one in China.

About a half mile down the road you will come across the Taiji Whale Museum complex.

Externally, it is classy and almost enchanting.

It glorifies a decommissioned whale-killing marine-machine, behind the bronze statue of a pre-industrial whaler.

Even their art is anthropocentric and domineering over the dolphin.

The Taiji Whale Museum should really be called the Taiji Whaling Museum,

with its arsenal of anti-whale weapons, anything from medieval hand-thrown harpoons and canoes, which in this case was targeting the also extirpated right whale,

to multiple-harpoon launchers,

to explosive warheads so heavy they don’t even need to be sharp to penetrate the bodies of the whales,

to the awesome remains of the victims, in this case, an Orca,

to dioramic depictions of pre-industrial whaling

and post-industrial whaling,

and, surprise! Whale meat for sale!

Smoked or barbecued, what’s your pleasure?

And how about some hi-mercury dolphin stew?

And where did the dolphin meat come come?

Another couple of hundred yards, and you will arrive at – The Cove.

In red: “Falling Rock! No Entry.” The only rock that might fall could only be a meteorite.

Since I ignored the “No Entry” order, I might as well check out all angles.

Since this bay is visible from the road, it serves as the holding bay.

The slaughter takes place in the adjacent bay, which is hidden from the road, and from the world.

Blatantly, they have blocked off the access path to the killing bay.

They would herd the dolphins into the killing bay, and cordon them off with boats and nets. Dolphin Base divers would go into the water and pick and choose a few young females for aquariums and “swim with” programs, while the rest are slaughtered.

Due to international outcry, they have taken to killing the dolphins under a tarp, but nothing can hide the blood.

Where not even babies are spared.

And they committed hara kiri

not on themselves, the cowards, but on the dolphins, the sadists!

The skiffs moved the dolphins like so many sacks of potatoes, around the protruding breakwater

into the picturesque Taiji Harbor, dead center of which being

the fishermen’s coop and the butchery

where they have installed canvass curtains to conceal their atrocity.

In Taiji, there are only 27 dolphin killers and only 13 dolphin-killing boats,

and they arrogantly hold the whole world hostage.

A dolphin-killing boat can be distinguished from the common fishing boats by the existence of the flared sounding rods, which are tipped into the water and hammered as a means of driving dolphins.

And here is its vulnerable underbelly, if you know what I mean. 😉

Another map of Taiji, and you won’t believe what it says.

Would you believe “Taiji Wildlife Protection Area”?

Meanwhile, restaurants abound with a broad range of whale and dolphin cuisines, while a boat that could be used for whale and dolphin watching sits idle.

And meanwhile, Anthony Marr sat in the moonlight, communicating with the dolphins.

Most photos by Anthony Marr, some from SSCS.

Anthony Marr, founder and president
Heal Our Planet Earth (HOPE)
http://www.HOPE-CARE.org
http://www.MySpace.com/AnthonyMarr
http://www.YouTube.com/AnthonyMarr
http://www.HomoSapiensSaveYourEarth.blogspot.com
http://www.ARConference.org
http://www.AnimalVoices.org

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Adventures of an AR Adventurer in Japan


Adventures of an AR Adventurer in Japan

(All words and photos by Anthony Marr)

I love a butterfly as much as a horse, a horse as much as a deer, a deer as much as a tiger, a tiger as much as a dolphin, and a dolphin as much as myself. When I fight for them, therefore, it is a matter of self-defense, every being’s universal right. There is no current law to support the legitimacy of my self-defense claim, but it rules within me. I’m a man of peace, but not a pacifist. I’ve been called a warrior, whose pen is his sword. And when I speak for Mother Earth, it is Mother Earth speaking through me, for I am not apart from her, but an integral part of her.

A war is not what I would wish to be born into, but there are certain things in the universe beyond ones control, including the cards you are dealt. Like a new cell in the body of a woman being raped, I was born in China during the invasion by Japan. I suppose I was born to know shame, and I did know it. But enough is enough. There comes a time when shame must turn to something else. Some may say “Forgiveness”. But those who say “forgive” did not see one villager being forced to skin another alive, at pain of being skinned alive himself by the village he refused to skin alive. So, not me. Not with Japan. Not yet. Not when Japan is still trying to rewrite history to black out its own guilt. The Holocaust wiped out 6 million Jews. The Japanese massacred 20 million Chinese civilians. The Yangtze River ran red with human blood for ten days. So, who is an Anglican to tell a Chinese to forgive?

I should be thankful. I consider myself very lucky to have been born at all. My mother escaped being captured as a “comfort woman” (disposable sex slave) by hiding in a pond, breathing through a hollow lotus stalk, when a distant neighbor protected her own daughter by telling the Japanese that the most beautiful girl in the village lived in my grandfather’s house. Had she not taken that decisive and courageous step, I would not be here philosophising about it. I owe her my life, in more ways than one, and just to begin with.

To me, forgiveness, like respect, must be earned. And Japan has done nothing to earn my forgiveness. What I see (present tense) instead is the same blood lust, not against the Chinese now, but against other beings just as sentient or even more so. Instead of national imperialism, it is now speciestic imperialism. The arrogance and brutality are no less.

I see it as my warrior’s honor to pick anyone involved in the Japanese whaling and dolphining industries as a choice enemy. I am of such a nature that the slightest remorse from an enemy will start me melting, but before I can find forgiveness for an enemy, I must strive to defeat it. Sometimes, to defeat an enemy is the first step of forgiving him. This is the code I live by.

Does my fighting Japanese whaling and dolphining have a revenge element? Perhaps. I haven’t searched my soul deeply enough to know for sure. But I cannot deny that whenever I envisage Japan defeated on whaling and dolphining, I taste something very sweet. No, to defeat Japan is not my life’s goal. It’s not great enough to be worth it. The sweetness comes from the imagination that the whales and dolphins have been saved. At least, this is what I try to convince myself. I know this to be by and large true, but I’m not so pure as to aspire to sainthood. No, I do not hate the Japanese people. I have met many Japanese people during my months in Japan, and as a rule I respect them, and even admire them in some ways. But this respect and admiration does not eclipse my determination to defeat them as an attitude and a tradition.

So, in 2004 and 2005, I went to Japan to do my part, targeting three of the most evil of places on Earth: Futo, Shimonoseki, and of course Taiji.

The first place I went to was Futo. The first time I heard about Futo was via this video depicting dolphin slaughter, by which I was instantly appalled. Within seconds materialized the henceforth unshakable deterimination to teriminate what appalled me by whatever means necessary. (Warning: extremely graphic and sickening.)

I arrived at Futo by car from Tokyo, by which time I had heard of the heroic ex-dolphin-killer Ishii Izumi who had undergone a transformation of sorts, and has turned his back on dolphin-killing and made his ex-killer boat into a whale-watching vessel. This had put a stop to the dolphin-killing due to the unfavorable reactions of the whale-watching tourists. When I was there, no dolphin-killing took place.

Instead, Izumi took me out whale-watching in his boat, and within 15 minutes, we came across two sperm whales well within sight of land.

It’s a good thing, if you could call anything that has to do with whaling “good”, that Japanese coastal whaling, which occurs in the summer months, takes places only on the north coast, or these easily approached whales here on the south coast wouldn’t stand a chance. Izumi asked for my help to broadcast his needs for support worldwide, and I have done some of that, and here I am, doing it again. If his business fails, dolphin-killing will resume. Consider him a Japanese Steve Hindi.

My visit of Shimonoseki was somewhat different. I was in company of my friend Bruce. Bruce and I hatched a plan to plant a magnetically mounted transmitting GPS unit on one of the whaling ships so that the Sea Shepherd ship would know where the whaling fleet would be at any given time. We arrived in Japan about 10 days before the usual departure date of the fleet, but we didn’t know which city it would be for the whaling fleet to assemble prior to embarkation. My guess was Shimonoseki, but it was at the extreme western end of Honshu Island, and if I was wrong, we would have wasted a lot of driving. It could have been Osaka, for example, or Hiroshima. But I bet on Shimonoseki and that’s where we went.

When we arrived in Simonoseki, it at once reminded me of Vancouver, if only scenery-wise, with an inlet, ocean-going ships, and even a suspension bridge like Vancouver’s Lions Gate Bridge. While driving and walking around, we found that Bruce was the only Caucasia person in town, and he stuck out like a sore thumb. To walk with him in the open was to invite suspicious glances from passers by.

At one point, when we were walking along a dock, we were intercepted by a uniformed officer of some kind, and asked what we were doing in Shimonoseki. We said that we were tourists. After a few more questions, we were reluctantly let go. When we were pulling away in the rental car, I saw him talking on his cell phone, while still looking at the car. We drove along the sea front, and entered a busy mooring area where indeed we located a whaling vessel, though it did not look like any of the Antarctic ships I’ve seen on television and in videos. Not long after, we sighted one of the harpoon ships – the Yushin Maru. No doubt about this one. We patted one another on the back.

We rented a hotel room near the waterfront, and Bruce called the GPS outfit to have the unit shipped to hotel ASAP. We did not want to carry the unit with us while flying from Vancouver to Tokyo, for fairly obvious reasons.

For the next two days, Bruce and I walked and drove around in Shimonoseki, together and separately. I entered a supermarket and saw shelves and shelves of whale meat,

some labeled as “Health Food” in spite of the sky-high levels of mercury in whale meat.

And a restaurant with a cubical menu of whale cuisine.

We visited the Shimonoseki Aquarium right on the waterfront, where captive dolphins were kept (guess where captured from?).

And there was a very tall observation tower from the top of which we could see the entire city 360. And it was from there that we spotted the factory ship the Nisshin Maru, tied up at the end of a pier protruding into the harbor. I knew who she was because on her side was painted, in huge white letters: RESEARCH.

On the third day, we saw the entire whaling fleet, sans the Nisshin Maru, moored together right beside the Aquarium.

It was not cordonned off and the public, meaning us, could walk right up to the ships and touch them. There were gangplanks on two of the ships, and we could have walked right onboard and planted the GPS on some suitable surface.

Unfortunately, the unit had not arrived. I took numerous pictures of the fleet, and, back in the hotel looked at them minutely to locate the best places for the unit. Not too many. Almost all surfaces were in one way or another unsuitable.

We decided to take a close look at the Nisshin Maru herself. I decided to go by myself, since Bruce’s blondish hair shone like a beacon in the sun. My ponytail was enough of a red flag, since in all of Japan I’ve been to so far, I’ve seen only two men with a ponytail, one was a cool looking dude in a full riding suit with a sport motorcycle in a rest stop, and the other was in any mirror I happened to look into. So, I drove Bruce back to the hotel, then drove on to the parking lot of a shopping center fairly near the pier at which the Nisshin Maru was docked, and parked down the car. Then I walked down to the pier with my camera.

It was gated, but the gate was open and unguarded. The place was swarming with dock-workers, including some obviously in a supervisory position. As nonchalantly as possible, I walked on to the pier, and saw that there were three ships tied to it in a row. Nearest land was a South Korean freighter, then a Chinese freighter, and then, farthest out, was the Nisshin Maru.

I feigned interest in the Chinese freighter, and quite openly took a number of picture of that ship, first from astern, then amidships, and then from the bow. And when I was at the bow of the Chinese ship, I was at the stern of the Nisshin Maru, with her stern slipway yawning within yards of me. At that point, the vision of me in a black wet suit swiming to the stern and entering the ship by creeping up its slipway like a ninja in the night formed itself in my mind.

I had ventured into the Nisshin Maru’s territory now. Still pretending interest in the Chinese ship, I snapped photos of the mother ship at close quarters. There were yellow-helmeted workers on board and on the dock, and a few gave me glances. I had absolutely no legit reason to be where I was, but I wanted to stick around longer to make observations over time. So I pulled out my cell phone, pretending to be talking into it, and while doing so, began strolling back and forth, in as relaxed a posture as I could muster, in plain view. I even waved my other arm while saying absolutely nothing. Gradually, the strolling brought me back to the stern slipway, and and the plan consolidated itself in my mind.

At that point, I saw a plain-clothes person walking purposefully towards me. I resumed my “cell phone conversation”, in Chinese. He stopped about 20 feet from me, and waited. As naturally as possible, I said Joy Geen on the phone and closed it up. The guy walked up to me and ask me questions in Japanese. I answered “mm sig gong yud boon wa” (“I don’t speak Japenese” in Cantonese.) He made a “wait” gesture, and walked off. I thought I’d better get the hell out of there, and began walking back towards the exit. It was a long walk if what you wanted to do was to run. The gate was about 200 yards away, and it felt like two miles. I forced myself to slow down, but my heart was pumping 150 a minute.

Finally I was outside the gates. Then, I began walking faster back towards the shopping center. In doing so, I had to walk along the waterfront for about a quarter mile before turning inland. Soon, I came across a row of small freighters tied up along the water front with their sterns tied to the landings, their bows pointed seaward, and gaps wide enough for smaller boats in between.

In case I was being followed, I stopped to take a few pictures of these small freighters, in short, to dilute my interest in the Nisshin Maru as much as possible. But at about mid-row, a small white van passed me from behind and came to an abrupt halt right in front of me. Two plain-clothes men stepped out, one being the one who had intercepted me at the dock. The other one began questioning me in Mandarin. I told him that my Chinese dialect was Cantonese, in Cantonese, which he did not understand. Then he switched to English. I thought about saying “No speak English”, but given my Canadian passport, I didn’t think I could get away with it. So, I answered him in English.

Speaking of my passport, that was the first thing he asked for. I knew that it was in the hotel room, but I didn’t want to take them there because of Bruce, so I said I left it in my car. He asked me where the car was, and I told him. He said, “Let’s go.” I was afraid he might tell me to get in their van, which conjured images of kidnappings and abductions and disappearances. As if reading my mind, he said something to his companion in Japanese, who went back to the van. He then told me to walk with him to the rental car. His companion tailed us at a snail’s pace in the van, no doubt just in case I decided to make a dash for it.

The rest of this story cannot be told openly. Suffice to say that Bruce and I survived our Shimonoseki adventure intact. And while he headed back to Tokyo to catch his plane back to Canada, I carried on to Taiji. But that was another story, which was the one I wanted to tell in the first place.

Why did I write this article? Maybe I want to show to all the adrenaline junkies out there that there is a meaningful way to have fun.

Anthony Marr, founder and president
Heal Our Planet Earth (HOPE)
http://www.HOPE-CARE.org
http://www.MySpace.com/AnthonyMarr
http://www.YouTube.com/AnthonyMarr
http://www.HomoSapiensSaveYourEarth.blogspot.com
http://www.ARConference.org
http://www.AnimalVoices.org

In Fond Memory of the Tigers I’ve Known


I’ve made some friends while working in the tiger reserves of India in the late 90s.

Sita was well past her prime when I first met her, but I mistook her to be a youngester when I first laid eyes on her. She’d had 7 litters of cubs, and had successfully brought up 21 cubs to adulthood – a major feat. She was featured on the front cover of the December 1997 issue of National Geographic – a real international star.

It was in 1998, when I went to India for the second time, and this time, in addition to my field work, I was the “star” of the “Champion of the Bengal Tiger” episode of the TV documentary series Champions of the Wild aired in 20 countries. I had the great privilege to observe Sita and her cubs at close quarters. She was a wonderful mother. With all due respect to lions, Sita was a different kind of mother. No matter how hungry she was, she let her cubs eat first. In 1999, I returned to Bandhavgarh, in part to see Sita. Upon my arrival, I was treated like a celebrity. I found myself in a national park in mourning. In the intervening 12 months, Bandhavgarh had lost at least 10 of its estimated 40 tigers, including Sita and her cubs. We eventually caught her poacher along with rolls of tiger skin and sacks of tiger bone, some still moist, with ants crawling all over them. Among the 6 tiger skins I examined, one was Sita’s. I matched the facial markings to the Sita in my photographs. It was a heart-breaker.

Pipal was a young tigress who had just given birth to her first litter. Our first encounter was unpleasant, to her. My elephant (disclaimer: I will never ride an elephant again) got too close and disturbed her noon-time nap, and she was none-too-pleased, especially since her cubs were hidden nearby.

Another time, while driving down a park road, I noticed a sambar deer standing four square, tense as a piano string, staring intensely in the direction my jeep was going. It did not pay me the least bit of attention. I slowly drove on, and within 100 yards I saw Pipal sitting tensely at the foot of a pipal tree. She did not pay me the least attention either, but was staring intensely in the direction from which I’d come. The deer and the tiger could not see each other, but they were aware of each other’s presence. The air was still, and the cicadas were singing. Pipal slowly raised herself from the ground, and began inching forward. The forest floor was covered with dry leaves, but the way she placed her feet, there was not a rustle to be heard.



After about three breathless minutes, she suddenly dashed forward, and in a split second, was gone, forever.

Ajuna and Shiva were two 3 year-old sibblings, a brother and a sister, who had left their mother some months before, and still hunted together, and in spite of their youth and inexperience, they managed to amaze me with their intelligence. Deer have super-keen hearing, and what they listen for are the very faint sounds made by a tiger as she moves through the undergrowth, sound so faint to be below human hearing. Elephants make a lot of noise, which are ignored by tigers and deer while a hunt is in progress. On this day, I was on an elephant, moving noisily through the forest. Suddenly, I saw two cheetal deer about 150 yards ahead. The undergrowth was dense, with a 30-ft visibility, but up on elephant back, I could see for at least 300 yards. These two deer were looking tensely in my direction, and I thought they were looking at the elephant. But something caught my eyes from underneath. It was Ajuna and Shiva, one on each side of the elephant. I then realized – they were using the noise made by the elephant to cover their own sound. The wind was blowing from ahead and they could smell the deer, and could not see them. Eventually, they did charge. Unfortunately, they were still too far, and the deer got away.

Charger was Sita’s mate, although within his 50 sq.mi. territory lived three other tigresses. He acquired the unusual name (for an Indian tiger) because he had the funny habit of mock-charging tourist jeeps, and when the tourists began to scream he would calmly walk away. Now, since I was a “professional”, I had a high tiger-sighting rate, maybe one sighting every two outings, whereas some tourists may not see a tiger at all. Soon, my “luck” was known among the tourists at the lodge where I was staying. One day, a Germany photography named Axel approached me and asked me if he could come with me in my next outing, since he had had no luck seeing a tiger whatsoever, much less photogragh one. So, out we went in my jeep. Sure enough, charger showed up, and was just standing there at the edge of a thicket about 50 yards away. Axel quickly grabbed his camera and began to aim it at Charger. Without warning, Charger did what he was expected to do. Axel screamed and dropped his camera. Charger swerved to the left and dove into another thicket, leaving a cloud of red dust behind. Axel did nto get a single picture. I let him have one of mine.

Sita and Charger are both gone now. I hope that Pipal, Ajuna and Shiva are still thriving.

All photos by Anthony Marr (except the one from National Geographic).

Anthony Marr, founder and president
Heal Our Planet Earth (HOPE)
http://www.HOPE-CARE.org
http://www.MySpace.com/AnthonyMarr
http://www.YouTube.com/AnthonyMarr
http://www.HomoSapiensSaveYourEarth.blogspot.com
http://www.ARConference.org
http://www.AnimalVoices.org

How a single bullet killed 25 lions (long version)


It is the dream of every ginger (male) kitty to be the king of beasts, but if the dream comes true,

it could become a nightmare.

To be a king of beasts, you must first be a lion cub, and that, to begin with, is tough. The lions’ infant mortality rate, due to predators, parasites, disease, starvation, and other lions, is two-thirds within the first year, so chances are that you won’t live past your princehood.

But assuming that you can reach 3 years of age, unlike your sisters, who will continue living in the pride for life, you and your brothers and male cousins will be summarily evicted from the pride.

Now out in the wide-wide-world of “sport hunting”, you will have to hack out a niche for yourself. Up to this point, you’ve been protected by your father and uncle(s),

and fed and taught by your mother and aunt(s).

Now, not only do you have to protect yourself, you’ll have to feed yourself.

So, you join forces with your brother and two cousins to form a 4-lion coalition, for self-protection, cooperative hunting, and, ultimately, to take over a pride by defeating the pride males.

You don’t know this yet, but when your coalition drives out or kills the pride males, you will quite naturally kill off all their cubs. This is genetically programmed, so that the lionesses of that pride will get back in estrus, and have new cubs bearing your genes.

Likewise, if, while you were a cub, your dad and uncles lost the fight against younger bachelor lions, you’d be dead.

And don’t think that once you have taken over a pride, life will be hunk dory. It is a myth that the females will do all the work while the males lie around all day. A pride male has his responsibilities:

1. to patrol and scent mark your territory daily to repel any interested bachelor coaltion – daily

2. to assist in heavy duty hunting of, say, buffaloes

3. to babysit the cubs while the lionesses are out hunting

4. to protect the cubs from predators

5. to defend the pride from marauding bachelor coalitions

While #1 may get you tired, #2 may get you gored, #3 may get you irritated, #4 may get you growling, #5 will really hurt, and may get you killed, which is why male lions will be old, worn, scarred and decrepit by age 10, and seldom live past age 12, while females can continue to bear young till 15, and live past 16.

Still want to be the king of beasts? Well, let me tell you about something much more deadly than even a big pride lion in his prime who, though lethal, can kill only one lion at a time. This thing is called a trophy hunter. When I was camping in Africa in the early 80s, I observed the following tragedy:

The pride where I was camping comprised 3 males, 10 females and 22 cubs. The 3 pride-males, named Agamemnon, Achilles and Hector, were about 6 years of age and very much in their prime. One of the lionesses was indeed named Helen. Their 22 cubs were thriving under their protection – protection against the coalition of four 4-year-olds, who have been loitering in the neighborhood. By their scent-markings they have been intruding into AAH’s territory. Due to the superior fighting prowess of the three pride lions, they have kicked the butts of the Gang of Four, so far. They will be able to repel them for another couple of years, by which time they will probably have become the Gang of Three. This is a fairly stable long term scenario, which in lion terms spans 3 years, no more, by the end of which the current crop of cubs will have grown and be able to defend and fend for themselves. Or so the theory goes. What was unforeseen was that murderous thing called a trophy hunter. He killed Achilles with one shot in the chess, while Achilles was charging at him.

Now with only Agamemnon and Hector holding the fort, they were no match for the Gang of Four. Valiantly, they tried to defend their offspring, but it was a matter of fighting to the last cub before they themselves were slain. The 10 lionesses became the spoils of war. And so, a new leonine dynasty was born. But through it all, 25 lives were lost.

And let me remind my readers, all this tragic carnage was caused by one single bullet fired into the lion-heart of the one Achilles by one egomaniacal trophy hunter. Shame on you, Safari Club International. Shame on you, Mr. President, for supporting hunting.

Anthony Marr, founder and president
Heal Our Planet Earth (HOPE)
http://www.HOPE-CARE.org
http://www.MySpace.com/AnthonyMarr
http://www.YouTube.com/AnthonyMarr
http://www.HomoSapiensSaveYourEarth.blogspot.com
http://www.ARConference.org
http://www.AnimalVoices.org

How a single bullet killed 25 lions (short version)


How a single bullet killed 25 lions

When I was in Africa a couple of decades ago, I camped for a stretch in the territory of a lion pride comprising 3 males, 10 females and 22 cubs.

The 3 pride-males, named Agamemnon, Achilles and Hector (AAH), were about 6 years of age and very much in their prime. Their 22 cubs were thriving under their protection – protection against predators,

and the coalition of four 4-year-old prideless bachelors, who had been loitering in the neighborhood.

Due to the superior fighting prowess of AAH, they had been kicking the butts of the Gang of Four (GOF), so far. If the GOF drove out or killed AAH, they would kill all their cubs so that the lionesses would have cubs bearing their genes. AAH would be able to repel GOF for another couple of years, which was a fairly stable long term scenario in lion terms. What was unforeseen was that a trophy hunter killed Achilles.

Now with only Agamemnon and Hector holding the fort, they were no match for the GOF. Valiantly, AH tried to defend their offspring, but it was a matter of fighting to the last cub before they both were killed. The 10 lionesses became the spoils of war. And so, a new leonine dynasty was born. But through it all, 25 lives were lost, all due to one single bullet fired by one egomaniacal trophy hunter. Shame on Safari Club International! And shame on you Mr. President, for support hunting.

Anthony Marr, founder and president
Heal Our Planet Earth (HOPE)

Conversation with a Dolphin


Dolphin brains are larger than ours (1600 CC vs1450 CC). Who are we to say what they can or cannot think? Anthony Marr’s latest creation: [Conversation with a Dolphin], was the jewel of last Friday’s Animal Voices talkshow.

If you missed it, just go to his space
http://www.myspace.com/AnthonyMarr
where it is set on auto-play, or go to
http://files1.mailboxdrive.com/mp3s-new/a/anthony_marr@yahoo.com/944268.mp3.
Its transcript will be blogged at
http://www.HomoSapiensSaveYourEarth.blogspot.com
and http://www.ThomasPainesCorner.org.

Animal Voices is aired every Friday 3-4pm ET/12-1pm PT:
– global: online live at http://www.CoopRadio.org
– radio: CFRO Radio 102.7FM Vancouver + 17 stations in BC, Canada.
– archived in http://www.myspace.com/AnthonyMarr
– call-in # 604- 684- 7561

Anthony Marr, founder and president
Heal Our Planet Earth (HOPE)
http://www.HOPE-CARE.org
http://www.MySpace.com/AnthonyMarr
http://www.YouTube.com/AnthonyMarr
http://www.HomoSapiensSaveYourEarth.blogspot.com
http://www.ARConference.org
http://www.AnimalVoices.org

Join Anthony Marr’s Anti-Hunting Alliance (AHA)


Which of the following 3 alternatives would you wish for these fawns?

If you prefer the 3rd alternative, please join the Anti-Hunting-Alliance (AHA) currently being forged by Heal Our Planet Earth (HOPE – http://www.HOPE-CARE.org), which initially will seek to accomplish the following:

1. Support local campaigns against the culling and bow-hunting of deer in urban, suburban and park environments.

2. Integrate the local deer-battles into a national Deer War.

3. Launch massive internet and media campaigns on local and national levels.

4. Launch federal-level class-action legal challenges against the state-level Hunter Harassment laws for violating the freedom of speech and property rights of non-hunters and anti-hunters as guaranteed by the U.S. Constitution (listen to the Jan Haagensen interview by Anthony Marr on Animal Voices in http://www.myspace.com/AnthonyMarr).

There will be a higher aim with the success of some or all of the above objectives: To terminate Recreational Hunting and Trophy Hunting, period.

Please contact Anthony Marr via MS messaging or email (Anthony-Marr@HOPE-CARE.org) and let’s roll!

Anthony Marr, founder and president
Heal Our Planet Earth (HOPE)
http://www.HOPE-CARE.org
http://www.MySpace.com/AnthonyMarr
http://www.YouTube.com/AnthonyMarr
http://www.HomoSapiensSaveYourEarth.blogspot.com
http://www.ARConference.org
http://www.AnimalVoices.org

===============================================

http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x70/AnthonyMarr/white-taileddeerfawn04.jpg

Which of the following 3 alternatives would you wish for these fawns?

http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x70/AnthonyMarr/ammoredeye.jpg

http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x70/AnthonyMarr/18345213_240X180-2.jpg

http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x70/AnthonyMarr/deer_hunting01.jpg/deer_hunting01.jpg”>

If you prefer the 3rd alternative, please join the Anti-Hunting-Alliance (AHA) currently being forged by Heal Our Planet Earth (HOPE – http://www.HOPE-CARE.org), which initially will seek to accomplish the following:

1. Support local campaigns against the culling and bow-hunting of deer in urban, suburban and park environments.

2. Integrate the local deer-battles into a national Deer War.

3. Launch massive internet and media campaigns on local and national levels.

4. Launch federal-level class-action legal challenges against the state-level Hunter Harassment laws for violating the freedom of speech and property rights of non-hunters and anti-hunters as guaranteed by the U.S. Constitution (listen to the Jan Haagensen interview by Anthony Marr on Animal Voices in http://www.myspace.com/AnthonyMarr).

http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x70/AnthonyMarr/HPIM395840-1.jpg

There will be a higher aim with the success of some or all of the above objectives: To terminate Recreational Hunting and Trophy Hunting, period.

Please contact Anthony Marr via MS messaging or email (Anthony-Marr@HOPE-CARE.org) and let’s roll!

http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x70/AnthonyMarr/zHPIM395740.jpg

Anthony Marr, founder and president
Heal Our Planet Earth (HOPE)
http://www.HOPE-CARE.org
http://www.MySpace.com/AnthonyMarr
http://www.YouTube.com/AnthonyMarr
http://www.HomoSapiensSaveYourEarth.blogspot.com
http://www.ARConference.org
http://www.AnimalVoices.org