Last night I was reading a number of field reports written by the Canadian activist Rebecca Aldworth, my main contact at the HSUS, during last year's seal hunt. Shortly before all hell broke loose, she travelled to the ice floes to see the baby harp seals. She describes the magical sight of dozens of baby seals sunning themselves on the pristine white ice and the soft noises they make. The pups didn't seem to be at all afraid of people. They just looked on fascinated at the strange beings that had joined them there on the ice. For Rebecca this is clearly a moment if pure pleasure. As a great nature lover, it strikes me as being wonderful to be able to see such a scene with my own eyes. To stand face to face with such an innocent, young and defenceless animal.
Nevertheless, Rebecca's pleasure is short lived. Her stories become ever more grim. I read about piles of corpses and ice that is stained red with blood. I read about a baby seal that instinctively tries to defend itself against a sealer by adopting an open-mouth stance, but only manages to look pathetic because it is so terribly small and young. I read about clubbed seals that are still alive and bleeding to death while the sealers laugh and refuse to return to put them out of their misery. I read about the threats of the sadistic and heartless sealers and how they hurl abuse at the activists and observers.
The more I read, the larger the lump in my throat becomes. For the very first time I begin to experience self-doubt and wonder whether I can really deal with all this. Will I be able to cope with seeing someone club a defenceless young animal just 10 metres away from me? Can I handle the sound of a club smashing in the skull of a living, innocent creature? Will I really be able to cope with the intimidation and threats of the armed and agressive sealers?
It is not that I'm not used to dealing with dead animals. Throughout the past few years I've scraped a multitude of dead animals off the streets of Amsterdam in the course of my voluntary work on the animal ambulance. I am quite accustomed to seeing and handling corpses that have been ripped open or partially skinned, eyes that have popped out of their sockets, intestines protruding out of bodies and limbs that have been ripped off through the force of vehicular violence. I've had to deal with stinking, bloated cadavers that have lain the the water for days and even weeks. Innumerable animals have died before my eyes or in my arms, albeit often with the help of a vet's needle. In this regard, I'm pretty hardened, or rather I tend to deal with these things pragmatically and rationally. It is not that it never affects me, it's just that there is precious little point in being sentimental about it all. If you were, then you couldn't do your job properly. To a certain extent, this also applies to my trip to the ice floes. It's part of my job and is meant to make a valuable contribution towards preventing such atrocities in the future. Nonetheless, I realise full well that - in contrast to the seals - the animals that I encounter on the ambulance are generally not deliberately killed by people. They are usually the victims of accidents that generally cannot be prevented.
How am I then going to deal with watching young seals being brutally clubbed to death? I know damned well that I can become extremely angry when animals are hurt deliberately. I can be tough and talk about it all really rationally, but the fact remains that the few animals that I have seen that have been deliberately murdered or badly abused are etched in my memory (e.g. the drowned pitbull I once fished out of the river Amstel who had been tied to a jetty). Just as the other animal suffering that I have borne witness to during my career, such as the unanaethetised castration of piglets. Their screams will also stay with me forever.
I realise that I will almost certainly have nightmares as a result of going to the seal hunt. This is unavoidable. Nevertheless, I'm more determined to go than ever. There is a much higher goal at stake. Moreover, I truly believe that this is probably one of the most important things that I shall ever get to do in my life.