The Constitutional Court has declared the hunters’ game to be up: the referendum to decide whether hunting in spring is to continue will be held on April 11, with the question to be put needing a resounding No for the ban to be brought into effect.

I’m not entirely sure why No rather than Yes is the box to be ticked; apparently it has something to do with the way the law is written but the point is hardly relevant any longer and, anyway. If your answer to the question “do you want birds to be killed during spring?” is no, then all you need to do is mark the box next to the word No.

You can also mark that box if you are sick of arrogant hunters and trappers throwing their weight around whenever you dare walk into an area they have marked off as “Privite”, for instance. Only a couple of weeks ago, walking in one of the most beautiful parts of Gozo, up near Sarraflu, we had the temerity to walk around a barrier marked eloquently with the aforementioned “Privite” (the barrier was locked down with a padlock, like the ones lovers clip to bridges).

We strolled on down the same stretch of road, careful not to damage any rubble walls or trample any growing crops, and, within seconds, a couple of noble countrymen stormed up, virtually frothing at the mouth.

In the real political world, taking a position on spring hunting is likely to be the classic two-edged sword

They started off by addressing us in something approaching English, leading me to think that they thought we were dastardly foreigners hell-bent on invading Maltese sovereignty, but when I responded in Maltese, with some crack on the lines “I can’t quite understand you” (loosely translated), the pitch was raised and, with much flapping of hands and loud interjections, I was asked who I thought I was (with imprecations directed at my ancestry and my provenance from Malta).

I tried to make what I thought was the eminently valid point that the gentleman (who had been engaged in setting up what looked very much like trap-nets) had no proof of ownership to offer but it cut little ice. He kept insisting, imprecations and all, that I turn tail and get off “his” land.

Not wishing to ruin a perfectly fine, if windy, Saturday, by having to inconvenience the good people at the Gozo General Hospital’s A&E Department due to having had my handsome features rearranged by the by now well-agitated son of the fields, I strolled back whence we had come and we continued our walk outside the boundaries imposed.

If I needed persuading that ‘no to hunting’ (and trapping, but they’re much of muchness, really) was the right position to take, this inconsequential little passage of arms (the ones being waved about in my face, I mean, he wasn’t toting a shotgun) sure helped.

The Prime Minister’s choosing to come out in favour of spring hunting, in spite of all his cozying up to the environmentalists pre-election, sure helped as well.

I know I have this reputation of being anti everything Joseph Muscat is pro, I can’t think why, but his disingenuousness, faux or not, in setting the date for the referendum “because he is decisive” and promptly following up his decisiveness (as if he had a choice) with a crack about how he’s in favour of allowing hunting to continue but, what munificence, he’s going to allow a free vote, made me feel warm and fuzzy all over that I’m going to cancel his vote with mine.

We’re now heading for a couple of months, or just a bit more, of pushing and pulling of the electorate to the Yes (No!) or the No (Yes!) side of the debate.

As at the time of writing, on Wednesday evening, the bird killers had not yet decided on their tactics, mainly whether they were going to boycott the poll, but I’m pretty sure they will be mobilising their sympathisers and trying to convince us all that hunting is a noble pursuit that deserves to be preserved.

I’ll be forgiven, I trust, for begging to differ. I’ll also differ with the view being expressed that it’s time for the Nationalist Party to get off the fence and take a decision on whether they’re for it or against it – spring hunting, I mean.

In the real political world, taking a position on this is likely to be the classic two-edged sword that will chop off a sizeable chunk of votes. This does not mean that the PN should not take what many, though certainly not a landslide amount, think is the high moral ground but the correct thing to do, which Muscat did not, is to let the question be decided by the people without introducing party lines because it is the people who asked the question and not the parties.

Losing chunks of votes was a consideration that I suspect was uppermost in Muscat’s mind when he played the ‘I’m with you’ card in the general direction of the hunters while riding on the anti-hunting side’s wave of euphoria following the court’s decision.

If the vote goes against the hunting lobby, he can commiserate with them and say that he was on their side but that’s democracy for you (given Labour’s past record on respecting polls, that would be almost a first) and still gain kudos from the anti-hunting side because it would be on his watch that the ban came in. If the vote is in favour of hunting, then the point is, again, not relevant.

I do hope we’re not going to be subjected to interminable debates about whether the President should have announced the date or the Prime Minister or the Prime Minister’s (unarmed) driver or the President’s senior footman.

The important thing is that we have a date, so less of the angels on pinheads about this, please, especially from erudite gentlemen of the law who seem to have nothing better to do than have their opinion delivered to us.

A more interesting question, on which a truly erudite gentleman of the law has put his finger unerringly, is the one that addresses the (more political than legal) point as to whether under-18s should be allowed to vote. It seems that Muscat’s confidence in the youth of this world extends only so far as promising them the vote and giving it to them for local council elections but when it comes to asking them whether they approve of hunting in spring then they’re not quite up to the mark.

I wonder why. Well, I don’t, much.

Switching to pursuits that harm no one, except those of us who overindulge and then anyway, the harm is only to ourselves, a couple of recommendations for you, of places I have had occasion to mention before.

Kozmo, in Rabat (the one on the nicer island) was virtually full on Saturday evening and it was only by the kind offices of Caroline of Chez Amand fame, who is now gracing the place with her front-of-house skills, that we were able to get a table and a pretty good meal.

No wonder the place was full; it’s good value for money.

On Tuesday night we had a pretty good supper at Trabuxu, in South Street, Valletta, which was also full and pretty much for the same reason.

imbocca@gmail.com

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