Faces Of Death Page #2

Do the animals know

they are going to die?

The men who kill them

claim they don't,

but when the machinery begins to rumble

and the conveyor belts start to roll,

sounds that expedite death

are heard by animal and man alike.

My travels have taught me that modern

technology does have one advantage -

as consumers, we're spared the process

and only deal with the finished product.

The Al Haram Restaurant

in the Middle East presented an experience

that I found most unique.

This restaurant is housed within

stone walls hundreds of years old.

From the moment patrons enter these

premises, they are treated like royalty.

The welcoming music

and finger chimes of the belly dancer

mark the beginning

of this most unusual dining adventure.

When the waiter appears carrying wine

and the special dining implements,

it is a sure sign our tourists will soon

begin the ritual which brought them here.

Feeling that the foreigners

were comfortable within his domain,

the waiter signaled

for the house specialty.

Good evening.

Here's to good food and wine.

As the monkey was brought down the hall

and a toast to prosperity was made,

the waiter presented the men

with their tools of destruction.

Good.

Look at that little monkey.

Why don't you touch it?

I know it will be great.

I can't believe this.

Secured in a special trap, the animal

was now ready to become the main dish.

Following a few simple instructions, the

men at the table were prepared for the kill.

No, no. Just use quick strokes.

Just use quick strokes.

- Hit him like that?

- It's easy.

Oh, my God!

That's all I have to do?

That's it.

After a matter of seconds,

the gruesome ritual had ended.

The skull was carved open

for the delicate brains inside.

While this continued, it occurred to me that

in the confines of this elegant restaurant,

people were paying exorbitant prices

to play the role of a hunter.

A definite ritual had been established,

and there was very little difference

between what I had witnessed in this

restaurant and the ceremony of the Masai.

The human being

was killing for celebration,

ready to devour

the animal slaughtered.

Throughout history, it was believed that

by eating the brains of this sacred animal

a new source of wisdom

would be inherited,

bringing those who ate this delicacy

closer to God.

I'm not eating this.

You don't have to eat anything

you don't want to.

Watching a living animal die

before their eyes

and then having to eat

the lifeless remains

caused amusing responses

from each of the tourists.

When I asked the man with the hearty

appetite why he enjoyed the meal,

he replied, "If I can get closer to God

by eating brains, why not?"

Excuse me.

I don't believe this.

The human reaction to death in this

particular environment was instructive.

Flavor became incidental,

taste totally ignored,

for the spiritual human mind

became the savior in this meal of death.

If none of you are going to finish this,

I want some more.

It would be another lifetime before

any of these tourists would visit here again.

The unparalleled beauty of the ocean

is a unique wonder among nature.

Life within this domain

appears sheltered from man,

but when the hunting instincts of man

are directed toward this environment,

the creatures of this world

have little protection.

The man who kills for pleasure,

to feel the power of a gun and nothing else,

is a dangerous threat

to the well-being of this planet.

A professional fisherman

hunts for another reason.

The sharks he kills will be used by society

for a variety of products.

The Pribilof Islands off the coast of Alaska

presented another kind of hunter.

Once a year,

these men work from sunrise to sunset.

They are contracted by the government

to crop their herds of fur seals.

This fulfils

two necessary functions.

Firstly, by performing their duty, a natural

balance is created in the seal population.

Secondly,

the pelts of these animals

provide a lucrative income

to the government.

The only thing I question

is their method of death.

Whether or not the seal feels any pain

is purely a matter of conjecture.

I am convinced that when

these animals are herded,

their instincts warn them

of their final destiny.

A warning which soon

will no longer matter,

as this island is transformed

into a battleground of naked carcasses.

When the sun set that evening

and the final herd was rounded up,

I then decided never to wear

the skin of an animal on my back again.

There is still one more hunter -

he who kills illegally for profit.

These men

are known as poachers.

The valuable skin of the alligator

can bring a high price on the black market.

Although this hunting is totally forbidden

by law because the reptile faces extinction,

these men will kill as many as 20 gators

in a single evening.

They are the murderers of nature.

Although poachers manage to escape

a great deal of the time,

game wardens across the country

are becoming more successful

in apprehending these criminals

who destroy creatures of the earth.

The government has developed

a method of providing society

with the alligators' precious skins.

Breeding farms

have been constructed

where these reptiles

are raised from infants.

Their growth to adulthood

will cost them their lives.

Channel 9 Action News.

I'm here today with Mrs. Ellis.

Mrs. Ellis, as well as

several other area residents,

are having problems with

what they consider to be a menace.

- Can you tell me about that problem?

- Yes, I'm very concerned.

We've got a big alligator off in that lake

and I'm really worried about it.

Mrs. Ellis, do you fear for the lives

of your children as well as your pets?

Yes, I do. The kids can't even

go swimming anymore.

- Is this your daughter, Mrs. Ellis?

- Yes. This is Lisa.

Lisa, how do you feel about going into the

water with a potentially dangerous animal?

Not me. No more.

The alligator seems to pose a threat

to most of the residents.

Animal control officers

have been notified, of course.

Calls like this

are becoming more frequent,

and again, today, I believe the animal

control officials will have their hands full.

- Did you call about a nuisance alligator?

- Yes, I did.

- Where's he located?

- He's over in those weeds.

- Over here?

- Yes.

- How large is he?

- He's gotta be at least 15 feet.

Thank you very much for the call.

Let's take a look right over here, OK, Joe?

This news story presents an ironic

conclusion to the story of the alligator.

Sometimes the reptile

gets his own chance at revenge.

Any good?

Move in on him.

- Oh, my God!

- Oh, my goodness! He's gonna kill him.

Oh, my God! Get him!

Don't drown.

Keep the film camera rolling.

I just can't believe it.

When the game warden

was pulled ashore,

his mutilated body

represented a violent retaliation

from a creature which has suffered

continual abuse from mankind.

Get 'em outta here.

Give me the blanket. Give me the blanket.

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