The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2836 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

---

This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
*****

At work the next day I surfed the Guardian website and was horrified to see the government were probably going to cut the funding to support the special wildlife police unit. This is a specialised unit who train police officers to deal with wildlife crime which is a type of crime that is growing rather steeply with thugs and sadists doing things like hare coursing and badger digging/baiting. Poaching and shooting deer was also increasing not to mention the illegal killing of birds of prey on shooting estates.

As it is, few of these are ever properly investigated as the police aren’t really too interested with the increasing burdens upon them and the cuts to funding generally, so those who have a mind to it, usually of the small and perverted sort, seem to get away with the torture and killing of wild animals and birds, destroying sites of special scientific interest and anything else they fancy.

I was really depressed when I read about it, I knew that illegal hunting goes on but the police are more interested in prosecuting the protestors than the hunters who are actually breaking the law. The establishment protects itself and with a sympathetic government who couldn’t run a bath let alone a country, wildlife has no one at the top who is protecting it and as several of them have large grouse moors or other shooting interests. There’s even a lobby group fronted by ex-cricketer Ian Botham who try to undermine charities like the RSPB and their investigation of poisoned raptors and other crimes against birds of prey. Botham has interests in a large country shoot.

“What the matter, boss?” asked Diane when she brought in a cuppa. I showed her the article and she made disgusted noises at the photo of the dead and bloodied hare. “How can people do things like that? It’s not even killing to eat.”

“No, it’s killing for fun—it’s what psychopaths do, or sadists either might get a sexual thrill from it, it’s why fox hunting was so popular with women riders—one long orgasm.”

She looked at me in total incredulity. “I’ve got some typing to do,” and slipped out the door while I was in mid slurp.

I switched off the internet, it was either about cruelty to humans in Syria, shootings in Manchester, people being flooded in Scotland or the north of England or the wildlife story I’d just read and despaired over. The world was going more stupid than ever and the people who had increasingly sophisticated technology had the moral turpitude of the forty thieves. “How can I save the world if no one wants to help or seems to care?” I asked the bookshelf before me, but if it said anything it was too quietly for me to hear it—mind you if I had, I’m not sure what I’d have said or done.

At lunch with Tom I moaned about my dissatisfaction with everything and everyone and he listened patiently. “Ye’re no thae only one wha cares, and ye’re surroonded by decent folk, includin’ yer ain bairns. Ye cannae stop it a’ anyway, but ye can speak oot aboot it whenever ye can and teach yer children whit’s right and wrang. There’ll allus be despicable types wha seem tae prosper at thae expense o’ everything else, all ye can hope is when it comes tae their time to receive it, they’ll be paid back in spades.”

“It never seems to happen to them though, does it? The devil really does seem to look after his own.”

“D’ye really believe that?”

“As I don’t believe in devils, I suppose I don’t. The only evil comes from the hearts of men.”

“Aye an’ women.”

I snorted and he asked me why. I told him about what I said to Diane about women fox hunting just as he sipped his Guinness. It wasn’t a pretty sight as he choked and coughed the stuff everywhere. Once he’d recovered and he gave me a filthy look as if I’d do such a thing on purpose, he then said, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing. Edmund Burke.”

“Are you suggesting I’m not doing anything? About the wildlife crime?”

“No, not at all. It’s others wha need tae dae somethin’ a’ ye hae tae dae is tell them aboot it.”

“Ye’re thae communicator, think o’ somethin’.”

“Without implicating the university, I presume?”

“Naturally, but ye shud get roond that, ye’re a clever girl, ye’ll find away tae use yer position withoot embarrassing yer friend thae vice chancellor.”

“Him—I’d love to embarrass but only if it was terminal for him.”

“Watch whit ye’re sayin’ or it cud be terminal for ye.”

“Message received loud and clear. Sorry if I’ve irritated you today, Daddy, but I needed to talk about it, it distresses me that much. The world is a beautiful if dangerous place, full of wondrous things and it seems that those we can’t eat or sell we destroy, never appreciating the value of anything until it’s gone. Extinction is forever, why can’t people see that?”

“They dinnae hae yer interest or compassion, lassie, they’re mair interested in their ain shallow an’ materialist lives. If there’s nothin’ in it f’ them they dinna care.”

I held onto his arm as we walked back to my car and thanked him. He gave a little chuckle. “Sae there’s still a need f’ this auld git, is there?”

“I can’t imagine a world without your wisdom being there.”

“Aye weel mak’ thae most o’ it, it won’t there f’ ever.”

“Don’t say such things, Daddy, it’s unthinkable.”

He stopped and turned to face me taking my hands said, “Look, Cathy, I’m an auld man, my time is limited.”

The figure of ninety four came into my head. “You’ve got twenty years yet.”

“Whit? How can ye tell that?”

“I have my sources,” I smiled.

“Twenty years, eh? I suppose I’d better think aboot a pension then.” He said this dead pan and I nearly collapsed with laughter.

“Whit’s so funny?”

“What you just said about a pension.”

“Aye, I’ll hae tae see aboot it, I’ve been deferring it until noo.”

“Well I’d seriously think about at least claiming your state pension, you must have at least five years eligibility.”

“Oh aye, at least.”

“They won’t thank you for deferring it.” Although I knew they did, they give you a thousand pounds extra for each year of deferment. Mind you I expect they take most of it back in tax.

“Aye, I will.”

We arrived back at the university and I decided to write to all the great and the good who might take up the cause of keeping the wildlife police unit open, including a certain astrophysicist I once met who likes to play guitar and a charming old man who makes documentaries. I copied the Guardian blog and sent it as attachments to several folk asking if they had any ideas to support the unit against government cuts.

I hadn’t done much but I’d done something, so perhaps this time evil won’t triumph.

http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2016/jan/08/nationa...