9 July—Older farts may remember Bill Hayes singing, in 1954’s “The Ballad of Davy Crockett,” how Davy, “born on a mountaintop in Tennessee,” “killed him a bear when he was only three.” Shortly thereafter, Tennessee Ernie Ford and Fess Parker, who had played Davy Crockett in the Disney film, released their own recordings of the song.

The real Davy Crockett went on to serve in the Tennessee General Assembly and the United States House of Representatives and get himself killed at the Alamo. And all that’s irrelevant, but a cute hook.

A couple of months ago, Lawrence Clarke killed him a bear when he was 55. In Newtown. The late bear had been tagged by state busybodies No. 217 and was popularly and familiarly known as Bobbi. She was a Waterbury native, relocated twice to less urban environments because she wasn’t afraid of people. Big mistake. People are always to be feared. Especially by other people.

Bear killing still isn’t legal in Connecticut—as well it shouldn’t be—except in exigent circumstances. Clarke, a Ridgefield cop, dispatched Bobbi because she was attacking his chickens. Much as I disapprove of killing, maiming or otherwise injuring, torturing or otherwise maltreating animals (including humans) for food or other inhumane purpose, Lawrence Clarke’s ursicide seems to have been justified in the circumstance.

So it’s only fitting that the state and local busybodies—Department of Energy and Environmental Protection (DEEP), State’s Attorney in Danbury, Newtown police—have been magnanimous enough not to charge Clarke with a crime. Mighty White of ‘em. But one wonders whether Clarke’s profession had anything to do with their unusual mercy.

The bye-bye Bobbi story is at the top of Page 4A in this morning’s Republican-American. At the bottom of the same page is a story about Salisbury, following the example of some other paranoid towns in the area, passing an ordinance to fine residents up to a hundred bucks for feeding bears. That’s for the first offense, 25 bucks more for each additional feeding offense.

The new Salisbury ordinance seems reasonable enough on its face. It will probably be enforced seldom, if ever. Unintentional feeding, for instance, like not incarcerating your chickens, “shall not be considered to be intentional attracting” under the superfluous ordinance. So Lawrence Clarke wouldn’t be liable to a fine were his chickens attacked in Salisbury. Whew!

I’ve never put out food to attract any animals, except one winter long ago when I put out suet that was on a promo at Blue Seal. I can’t resist a bargain. The birds didn’t touch it. My feral neighbors seem perfectly capable of getting by without my help. A couple of neighbors have in fact reported a bear or bears rummaging through their compost and trash bins, though. And it occurs to me that really clever bears could have lots more fun when the trash bins are waiting at the roadside to be emptied.

Turkeys used to come up to the house and peck on the doors. I have no idea why. But, meany that I am, I never let them in nor fed them. So they dumped on the stoops and path. I miss their presence but not their presents. And so on.

Getting back to the Newtown ursicide, then, the DEEP asserts “there is no articulated right to defend yourself or livestock against bears.” So it’s essentially up to the prosecutors. No comment on that. But remember that in criminal-friendly Connecticut, there is no articulated right to defend yourself. Period.