I found this little tidbit of wisdom in the little notebook I carry around in my shirt pocket 24/7. (I call it my blogger’s notebook.)

My people say that once you kill a buffalo you don’t hunt it anymore.

The blogger’s notebook is where I record all the fantastic ideas that eventually go on to become my super-lame blog posts. Or is that the other way around? Naw, I’m pretty sure I have those in the proper order.

The notebook is supposed to be a place where I write my important thoughts so they’ll never be forgotten, then one day can become blog posts and shared with the whole wide world.

What usually happens, though, is that I wait a bit too long and completely forget why I wrote something down. I always assume in the moment, with no small amount of arrogance, that when I return to the notebook two things will magically happen: I’ll be able to read the writing (not a forgone conclusion by any stretch of the imaginations) and that it will also trigger a memory that explains what I’ve written.

I’m not too surprised the process has failed me … again. 🙂 I have no idea why I wrote that down. I can vividly remember that it meant something but what that something is, exactly, is no longer knowledge in my possession.

I often say phrases that start with “my people…” even though I’m the whitest slice of bread you’ll ever see. I don’t even have any ancestry. I’m what is known informally as “American mutt.” My grandfather fancied himself an Irishman, but that has never been proven. And I may be part German, but that’s just a guess from my parents. I guess you won’t see me featured in a commercial for Ancestry.com anytime soon. Even so, that doesn’t stop me using the phrase “my people” every chance I get.

I use it the most when someone attempts to point a camera at me. I refuse to be liable for damages to cameras, so I can’t allow my picture to be taken. I usually make it a joke, saying, “My people believe cameras steal our spirit.” Who is going to have the balls to challenge such personal beliefs? Amazingly this usually works which is why no pictures of me are known to exist.

This doesn’t help explain what I wrote, though. The phrase “my people” is deceptive here and isn’t really what the quote is about. So what could it possibly be then?

Then I notice the line just below. I have written there “Tales of the Poachers.” That turns out to be an important clue. Now I remember a bit more. I was talking to someone who was a Fish and Game warden for years. He had so many interesting stories that I practically begged him to write a blog and/or a book about his lifetime of experiences. He just shrugged and said, “Yeah, maybe.” The way he said it convinced me he’d do no such thing even though I was literally begging him. He has so many damn interesting stories. If I had the resources I’ve interview the hell out of him and blog his experiences myself. Unfortunately that’s not going to happen either.

So my quote has to do with poaching. That much is clear, even though I can’t remember exactly why I wrote it down. But I do remember this: Poaching pisses me off. Big time. I think anyone who abuses animals and/or kills for fun (and wastes what they have taken) is a serious piece of scum and that they will go on to do worse things, like hurt people. I strongly support stiff punishments for these bastards.

Poaching takes many forms. One example is the killing for “fun” and leaving the animal to rot. What a stupid waste! It is hard to say if other forms are just as nefarious, such as the systematic killing of certain species because of some perceived benefit to humans (like ivory trade). That also makes me angry and sick.

The use of parts of endangered species (such as seahorses, rhinoceros horns, and tiger bones and claws) has created controversy and resulted in a black market of poachers who hunt restricted animals. Deep-seated cultural beliefs in the potency of tiger parts are so prevalent across Asia that laws protecting even critically endangered species such as the Sumatran Tiger fail to stop the display and sale of these items in open markets, according to a 2008 report from TRAFFIC. Popular “medicinal” tiger parts from poached animals include tiger penis, believed to improve virility, and tiger eyes. (Source.)

I wish I was able to chronicle the experiences of my friend the game warden. He could tell the world about shit that would curl your hair. Shit that would make a real reality TV show. I think s0mething along those lines is what I must have meant when I scribbled in my notebook while listening to him.