Reformed ex-hunter says the shooting should stop

Shotgun in hand, Carmel Cilia crouched in the bushes and cautioned his dog to stand still as he whistled softly to lure the mistle thrush bird into his trap.

The bird answered the call, and suddenly Mr Cilia, a hunter for 47 years, saw it two metres ahead, hopping towards him, and its beauty transfixed him.

"It was like the conversion of St Paul. I couldn't get myself to shoot at the mistle thrush. I put the gun in its pouch and that was it," he said, brushing his hands to stress he has not shot a bird since that October day in 1994.

Mr Cilia, 62, said he was born with the hunting gene programmed in his genome; his cousins, uncles, brother and father were all enthusiastic hunters. Today, he is a nature lover who breeds wild collard doves in his garden and feels remorse when he recalls how many birds he shot.

He spends hours in his large garden in Mellieħa nurturing the birds, or simply sitting on a stone at night watching the moon cast a silver sheen on the rocks.

Mr Cilia compares the hunters' pastime to an addiction. "It's like smoking or gambling. I know of men who are on tranquilisers because they cannot go out hunting. It's probably an instinct we inherited from our forefathers," he said.

Basking in the winter sunshine at Upper Barrakka Gardens, Valletta, Mr Cilia's weather-beaten face exposes the years he spent outdoors chasing birds.

In his heyday, he was one of the first members of FKNK and president of the Victoria Shooting Club for 12 years. He was one of those who pushed to use l-Aħrax and Miżieb in Mellieħa as land for hunting.

But even then, he knew hunting would have to stop one day, and when the Malta Ornithological Society (MOS, which later changed its name to Birdlife Malta) had started lobbying against them he had argued on numerous platforms to phase out this 'sport'.

"My idea was to stop hunting over a few years and we would have started encouraging hunters not to instil the passion in their children. That way it would have died a natural death. But nobody wanted to listen to me."

He shakes his head in exasperation that "the cursed vote" stops political parties from taking the drastic measures necessary to bring about change.

"We didn't need the EU to tell us what to do, we should have done it ourselves," he added.

Asked if hunters could be trusted to self-regulate their pastime, a proposal put forward by the hunting lobby, Mr Cilia said that while some were capable of doing so, several others succumbed to temptation.

"If I were still a hunter, I too would have probably caved in and found it difficult to regulate myself."

Delving into the way the sport has developed over the years, Mr Cilia said by the age of eight he was already out in the countryside with his father absorbing every manoeuvre and learning to be patient to lure in the catch.

"In those days they used to shoot at everything. Before the war my uncle would receive an order from the neighbours for their dinner or requests to embalm the birds. It was normal practice," he said.

He points out that several years ago, workers did not have as many days off as they did today so they were restricted to three so-called hunting seasons - during the feast of St George in April, and twice in May during saints' feasts.

"Today the number of hunters increased so more birds are shot. But Malta has become increasingly more built up, which means there are fewer birds. The scarcer they are the more hunters crave the need to shoot," he says.

"Everyone is on leave, and some shoot anything that moves. The other day I was in Gozo and saw these hunters shooting at swallows. Their excuse was there was nothing to shoot at, but it is just not done.

"I would never dare write a single word against hunters, but today I pity them for they do not know what they're doing."