Over the winter, a number of fox and coyote carcasses turned up around local dumpsters. People reported this to the Human Society, who concluded at the time that they had been left by trappers. Plausible. These findings probably were an embarrassment to conscientious hunters or trappers, but not something many people lost sleep over.
On March 16, a decaptitated Rotweiler was foundnest to five skinned coyotes near an intersection a couple miles from me. Perhaps the trapper was incensed at finding the pet dog had sprung one of his traps and vented his anger on it. Uncalled for in any case, but something more likely to provoke disgust or outrage than fear.
During the last week, however, the bodies of domestic dogs, along with a few coyotes and foxes, have turned up almost daily along nearby roads. In spots that I drive or sometimes walk past. Some have been decapitated, some shot. Some had their feet bound with wire. The mad trapper theory is quickly falling by the wayside. And people are getting a bit scared, wondering if this slayer of canines will eventually turn his attention to them. These bloody finds have certainly made me look at the woodlots and stream bottoms of the township a bit more warily.
Up until yesterday, the county humane society was the only agency investigating these killings, but at the behest of our township supervisor, the sheriff's department became involved. I'm glad to see that. Still, I can imagine myself in a black sweater and watch cap patrolling the margins of LeFurge Woods or the Cherry Hill nature preserve at night. Seriously.
Following the recent carnage gives me a new appreciation for the vigilante impulse. I'm not actually going to arm myself and stake out the township's open spaces, and I'm not encouraging anyone else to. But understanding the law as well as the social consequences of taking it into my own hands doesn't remove the wish that I could hunt down this miscreant and stop him from hurting anyone else, whether four-legged or two. It's a new feeling. Violence against animals doesn't anger me more than violence against humans, but I've never found myself close to some ongoing and mysterious pattern of menace. When I've felt righteous anger (an emotion I'm fairly suspect about in the first place) it was usually aimed at someone distant, often known to me only as a figure on a screen, and who was unlikely in any event to pose a direct bodily threat to my neighbors.
I still think most of the world's true evils are diffuse, multirooted, and not vulnerable to the direct application of force or to single, decisive actions. Yet only the ones that aren't will usually generate a sense of urgency. That's a mundane truth, but perhaps a tragic one as well.
Tags: Crime; Community
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