Trackers follow the animals, herd them towards the waiting guns. Big money paid by lazy hunters who just want some trophies. Not for them the slog through bush they want an easy kill. A bit or two taken to hang on walls meat left where they fell. Uncaring if they are endangered they drink their beers in the hides. Not wanting to get dirty or sweaty they picnic on delicacies and wine. Bodies of the slain beasts pile up to be dragged away by scavengers. While the men toast each other proud of the day's work. Tomorrow it will all be repeated who I ask are the real beasts here?