Human Season

June 12, 2010
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“The meeting will now come to order!” snapped the boar, pounding his hooves against the stone. The other creatures quieted down, turning respectfully to the boar. He might not have been very big, but he had an impressive way of speaking, plus he had managed to escape from humans who had captured him. The last item alone was worthy of respect.

“Why have you called us here?” asked a young bear curiously. “You have barely spoken!”

“I have called you here to speak about humans,” replied the boar. All the creatures gasped, their voices soon petering off into snarls. The name “human” was hateful to them. Every one of them had lost a dear one to snare, gun, or cage. Satisfied that he had enraged his audience to the right extent, the boar continued. “Having been captured by humans for several years, I learned a little of their language. Do you know how they will suddenly seem to develop a desire to hunt a certain animal? I have learned that this is because they have something called ‘seasons.’ During the season for a certain animal, they will only hunt that-”

“Get on with it!” snapped a wolf. “What are you getting at?”

“Human season,” replied the boar, grinning evilly. “If they can hunt us without mercy, we can do the same to them.” He stood up on his hind legs and picked up a stick, balancing it carefully on his hooves. Obviously, he was imitating a hunter holding a gun. The animals, slowly realizing his meaning, began to cheer.

“Human season is now…OPEN!”


“Honey, what is it?” asked the hunter’s wife, rubbing her eyes as she looked at her husband, who was holding his gun tightly.

“I heard something out there! It’s definitely that fox coming after the chickens again. I’m going to go shoot it!”

“Okay, dear, whatever you say,” she replied, going back to sleep.

The hunter crept outside, making sure he was downwind of the fox. The last thing he needed was the fox to smell him. Unfortunately, he was so concentrated on the fox, who was a mere decoy, that he didn’t notice the young bear crouched behind him. One slash, and it was all over. The bear grinned, picking up the gun. A nice trophy, it would make. Now for the others…

The fox nosed around, finally finding the key under the doormat. Unable to reach the keyhole, he offered the key to the bear, who promptly crushed it. Growling, the bear thrust his claws through the door, punching a hole in the wood, then twisted the doorknob until it fell off. After much slamming, the door fell over. Unfortunately, the resulting opening was still not large enough for the bear to fit through. Shrugging, he enlarged it.

Naturally, all this banging had woken the hunter’s wife up. She staggered sleepily downstairs, wondering what was going on.

She was so shocked when she saw the bear and fox standing in her living room that she didn’t even cry out as they rushed up and tore her throat out. The children, fast asleep in dreamland, never even woke up as the fox cut their throats, one by one, with his sharp teeth.


Laughing, the boar gazed at the gun. He growled when he saw it, but smiled at the bear. “You did well to take this to me. It shall show the humans our true strength! No more shall we die by the fire-stick, the metal-teeth. We are free!” he roared. The other animals took up the cry, exclaiming “Freedom!” over and over again.

The wolf came galloping up, a large hunk of human hair held in his jaws. There were also several bones sticking out of the sides of his mouth. As far as the other animals could tell, he was grinning widely.

“Humans taste good…I suggest we hunt them more.”


“In other news, yet another family of four was found missing from their home. There were no signs of struggle, but several bloodstains were found on the floor and the children’s beds. Nothing else was missing from their home except for a shotgun owned by the father. Authorities are investigating the occurrence, but have no leads as of yet.”

“Oh dear, a serial killer,” muttered the woman as she turned off the TV. “Better lock the doors tonight. Wonder why nothing was stolen…?” Sighing, she leaned back against the couch. Not many people could afford couches covered with polar bear fur. It was nice and silky, and felt warm. Slowly, she drifted off to sleep.

She was awakened by a shattering window. A large bear was standing over her, sniffing at the couch and snarling. Blinking, she wondered if this was all a dream. It should be-no bears were even to be found around her community!

“Er…hi there, Mister Dream-gagahiack!” She said no more, for the reason that it is somewhat hard to talk without a throat. The young bear snorted. That had been too easy. He gathered all the items that had been made of his wild brothers and sisters, and dragged them behind him towards the woods. Boar would be pleased.


“What do they want?” cried the president, wringing his hands in fear as he crouched behind his desk. “Why have they become like this?”

“Sir, a delegate from the animals wishes to speak to you. Apparently, the animals have been teaching themselves how to write, and this one can type.”

“Let him in.”

The boar padded into the room, then jumped onto a chair and sat at the computer provided for him. He began to type quickly, and the words were projected onto the screen behind him:

Why are we doing this? WHY ARE WE DOING THIS? Don’t you see what you have done? You have killed so many of the animals compared to what we killed! But no, those numbers are kept secret, not reported, seen as victories, so it seems like we are doing all the killing.

“What do you want?” asked the president, struggling to keep his voice calm and look the boar in the eye. “What?”

The death of you all. And with those words, the boar lunged forwards, his tusks digging into the president’s hands, pressing him to the desk. A crowd of animals surged towards the window, shattering it. The bodyguards emptied shot after shot, but the animals kept coming. They pressed against the humans with their bodies, smothering them. Roars and snarls came, as the humans felt claws and teeth tear into their bodies.


It had been many years. No animal that had taken part in the Hunt had survived. But their legacy had lived on. Animals now ran freely across the plains. Humans had been driven back, forced to live in small shelters, always in fear of human season.

Sure, human season was only for a month, but there were always poachers. After all, human meat was delicious, and it was said that human brain and heart were good for your own brain and heart. And no one really cared to defend the humans…those who did were ignored.

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