The Shooting Party

The words imply a celebration
and that, perhaps, is what it is,
this gathering of guns, and mostly men,
with 4 x 4s, in these beloved 
killing fields.

In this new century
they use technology
to talk to one another
and target more precisely
their useless prey.

The shots ring out
and birds drop from the sky
to be retrieved by dogs - trained dogs –
in a long, time-loved tradition.

A few birds get away,
flying higher than they often do,
but surviving for the moment,
and for future moments,
when they will once again 
be targeted.

The odds, of course, are there:
these fattened birds that can barely fly
make perfect targets for the wealthy, 
often unskilled shots.

It’s as it should be, they would say:
splendid sport in perfect countryside.
Worth every penny 
of the many hundred pounds
paid for the privilege, the pleasure
of a good day’s shoot.

And of the other creatures
that have a price to pay
we’d best not speak,
or spoil the party.

The shooting party.