By Rowan Wolf
How does it feel to be the man (and yes we can be 99.99% sure that it is a man) to ingest the powdered horn of that last rhino so that he may have a (purported) heightened sexual encounter? Does it have a special kick because he knows that never again will there be powdered black rhino horn?
How does it feel to be the man who kills the last shark in the sea? And how does it feel to eat that final bowl of shark fin soup? Do visions of that shark dying a gruesome death intensify the flavor of the soup?
How will it feel to be the man who kills the last tiger? (It will likely happen soon?) Killed so that the precious skin can be a rug. How does it feel to own that remnant of a magnificent and now extinct species so you can walk across it like any nylon shag?
Watch out all creatures great and small
Please know that we shall kill you all.
The fewer, the dearer, the higher the price.
Thank greed and capitalism for your demise.
Meanwhile a few will shed a tear
To watch the last of you disappear.
The pursuit of rhino horn — which is prized for its supposed medical value and as ornamental trophies — has decimated populations and reportedly pushed the price per ounce above gold in some places. – Dashiell Bennett. Black Rhinos Are Now Extinct in Western Africa. The Atlantic Wire.