@UT "H'm, your own little private army of ex military that hunt poachers. I feel a book coming on 'All part of the Game'
Actually I'd just hire them to shoot the poacher's cocks off. That way they'd never be able to get 'the horn' again! *-:)
To take a look from the other side though, if there was no demand for tusks and horn (think Chinese) and the African economy wasn't nill- this wouldn't be happening. Re-education of the value of Wildlife and economical stimulus is needed. For now though, protection should come first. I'm playing the lottery tomorrow.
Post edited by Ponygurl at 2015-07-07 15:07:07
U R I E L What is done in the dark will always come to light
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ. Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit. Shall lure it back to cancal half a line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
I like Horses. We did some riding once at the Garrison school and we were allowed to ride some of the horses they use on big events like Trooping The Colour at Buck House, as these are all billeted out at Army stables around the country. Always find them inquisitive but wary creatures. Once you put the effort in though and win them over, they are always happy to come over for a bit of face time and a carrot.
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ. Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit. Shall lure it back to cancal half a line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
A very small pet Mrs T found having a swim in France.
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ. Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit. Shall lure it back to cancal half a line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
I'm sure there are some specialist magazines......
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ. Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit. Shall lure it back to cancal half a line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
Don't go there Kat. That's where the monsters hide !!!
Post edited by Urban_Tribesman at 2015-07-17 16:26:17
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ. Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit. Shall lure it back to cancal half a line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.