Born Free Foundation - Keep Wildlife in the Wild

BUCK DEER - Michael Reed (Texas)

I saw a Buck Deer in my Neighborhood

Seven Points depending on how You count them.

The man next door, a hunter and a purist,

Would call the count five.

He counts only points over an inch.

But I see Seven

Enhancing the Magnificence of this Animal.

For He is a Magnificent Animal.

I can imagine him in the Primeval Forest

Driving off lesser bucks

Dominating the does to leave

His Mark on the Herd.

Five Points or Seven, it matters not

For he is running into the heavy Traffic

Rushing past on the Main Street

Of our Town.

GOS - By Peter Branson

Accipiter gentilis: The Goshawk

Tail-feather fans, barred undertow like blurred

morse code, you float and glide above your dark

wildwood, a soaring wing within a prayer,

mantle as sheer as finest porcelain.

Teased by the light and wind, you’re up for it,

perform that rollercoaster sliding dance

in early spring. No psychopath, beak like

a bowie knife, barbed nails’ live razor wire,

you kill to live, so famished  chicks can thrive.

Born acrobat, only when ravenous,

at fighting weight, can you get close enough

to stand a sporting chance. Blood bolts behind

your yellow-crazed keen eye; you’re built for speed,

a stealth attack amongst the startled trees.

 
The Last Tiger - By Gillian Ruane
 
I wandered slowly through the trees
My claws are silent, and with ease,
I hunt the deer ahead of me,
I'm camoflaged against the tree.
 
The deer is getting closer,
I lay quiet on the floor,
My shoulders hunch, i'm poised to spring
And the deer will know no more.
 
Just then, a noise ahead of me
Causes the deer to run away,
A man appears with a gun in hand,
Takes aim and shoots at me.
 
I tried to run away and hide,
To hunt another way,
But never will i hunt again, for i was the last tiger,
And i died today.

Untitled

As tame as a pussycat,

            As wild as a beast.

You cannot keep

            Under lock and key that

That was made to be free.

By Charlotte Faulkner 2007

One less deer
The tiger stalks in forest deep,
The deer his date with death will keep,
Burning eyes, unblinking stare,
The deer in bliss is unaware.
One short run, one mighty leap,
One less deer in forest deep.
The tiger’s meal he does not share,
To come too close, none would dare,
Moonlit night the tiger sleeps,
One less deer in forest deep.
The tiger dreams, for he is free,
This is the way that it should be,
Life, death and danger he will face
Until he leaves without a trace,
Born to be wild, forever free.

Eileen Anderson 2009

When I was younger…
I went on Safari, the trip of my lifetime, I had saved forever!
The chance to see wildlife in the wild, species in the right places, together.
A quick glimpse of a cheetah, lion or wart hog all living free.
A herd of elephants roaming as a family – that’s how it should be!
Lying in the shade from the hot African sun, a mother lioness and her mate.
Watching over their pride, their land, their home – It was worth the wait.

I went to a zoo, could it be as bad as they say?
With big enough cages, some water, an area to play.
But to watch the lioness pace up and down, again and again, bored, her spirit gone.
No life in her eyes she cared not for her existence, she is caged, imprisoned, for too long.
Where is the education, what do I learn, what do I see?
A wild animal that should not be here, suffering because of me.

I went to a circus to see what a life on the road would be!
Would the exciting big top and acts make me think it was ok, better than being free?
Oh no, I could not bear to look into the eyes of the elephant and tiger as they walk around.
Around and around, nothing to see here – no wild, exotic animal anywhere to be found.
Just sad, afraid animals that are out of place and think all hope is gone.
But we can make a difference, make a change, give them back their dignity – prove them wrong.

Older and wiser I may be, an animal lover I always claimed.
Somethings I have seen should make me ashamed.
It’s not too late to do the right thing.
Say no on behalf of the animals and their suffering.

Joanne Bartholomew June 2009

The Tiger’s Plea
Who shall be our champion?
That person of distinction.
Who comes here, at our final gasp,
To save us from extinction?
Abused and then reduced by man,
The paradox is clear.
For only man can save us now,
The God who’ll keep us here.

Put away your guns and snares,
Your axes, fires and saws.
Appreciate the tiger’s grace,
Its pug marks, stripes and claws.
It knows that man is King of all,
The piper and the dance.
Please work to stall the sands of time,
To give us one last chance.

Ronnie Wilkie June 2009

Tiger Today
Man-Smell fills my nostrils,
Much stronger every year.
Man-noise, ever louder,
Like a bee-hive in my ear.
My territory shrinking,
As they take my trees away.
Tourists with their camera guns,
Disturb my every day.

I hear sub-sonic moaning,
From my kindred in mans zoos.
And others used in circuses,
His children to amuse.
Man, the cruel predator,
Who rapes my world with glee.
As soldier ants goes swarming,
Yet spares no thought for me.

Ronnie Wilkie July 2009