String Music
10-31-2005, 07:29 AM
Good ole Rodney in the lime-light:
http://www.courier-journal.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20051031/NEWS02/510310376/1025
Owner fights Indiana order for high-fence hunting sites to close
Animals can't escape, critics say
By Will Higgins
The Indianapolis Star
CORYDON, Ind. — As a hunting preserve owner, Rodney Bruce doesn't think he's doing anything wrong — not morally, not legally.
Nor do Indiana's nine other operators of so-called high-fence game ranches, where the hunters' prey are fenced in.
Nevertheless, they've come under heavy fire, and their future appears iffy.
Sportsmen's groups and animal-rights activists, unlikely bedfellows, are increasingly united in condemning high-fence hunting as unsportsmanlike and cruel.
A more immediate threat is an order by the Indiana Department of Natural Resources that they close down.
Fighting back, Bruce filed suit in Harrison Circuit Court, claiming the agency doesn't have the authority to put him out of business. The case gets under way with a pretrial conference today.
High-fence hunting -- detractors call it "canned" hunting -- is drawing criticism in other states, as well. Fifteen have banned it; 21 aren't allowing new facilities.
A bill is pending in the U.S. House that would hamper such operations by prohibiting the interstate commerce of exotic animals destined for hunting preserves. In addition to white-tailed deer, many preserves offer customers a chance to hunt non-native species such as wild boar.
Three years ago, Bruce opened his Whitetail Bluff preserve on 100 acres of hilly Harrison County wilderness. He built a 9-foot fence around it, in part to keep out any wild animals. Mostly, though, the fence was built to keep his deer in. He feeds and cares for the animals, some of which cost him $4,000 apiece. He uses them for breeding, and ultimately, when they're full-grown, the males become hunting inventory.
Bruce's customers, armed with bows or shotguns, depending on the season, prize "trophy" bucks, or "monster" bucks, so highly that they pay Bruce $3,900 for three days of hunting -- with a one-buck limit.
An Indiana hunting license costs far less, just $24, and shooting deer in the wild isn't that hard. But wild deer rarely live past the age of 3. That's half the age of many high-fence deer. A 3-year-old's rack is not "monster" enough for some people.
Bruce's deer aren't "taken" until they're at least 4. "I'm offering a hunting opportunity the state can't provide," Bruce said.
His customers agree.
"This is the kind of place where dreams are made," said Richard Riddle, 41, who owns a landscape company in Memphis, Tenn., and was at Whitetail Bluff earlier this month, on opening day of bow season.
Mainstream hunting organizations say high-fence hunting amounts to the shooting of what are essentially farm animals. Critics say high-fence hunting cuts off an animal's escape route, negates the time-honored concept of "fair chase" and gives hunting a bad name.
Animal-rights activists such as the Humane Society of the United States oppose all hunting but especially high-fence hunting, which they consider exceptionally foul. Foes also worry that confining deer increases the chance of disease, such as chronic wasting disease, which could spread to the wild deer population.
The potential death knell of Bruce's preserve came this summer when the Department of Natural Resources, after allowing the practice for a decade, pronounced it illegal. Kyle Hupfer, the agency's newly appointed director, gave high-fence preserves until next spring to cease operations.
Bruce, who works a factory job during the week, doesn't understand the outrage. "What I've got is the same principle as a pay (fishing) lake," he said.
In 1999, when Bruce was considering getting into the business, he wrote to the state agency to make sure it was legal. "My question is," he wrote, "can I legally charge people to come to my place for this vacation/hunting experience?"
The agency gave him the green light, though it cautioned that "state statutes and rules may change in the future that would disallow the type of business venture that you have described to us."
He bought a couple of hundred acres in Harrison County, near where he grew up. Mostly with his own hands, he erected the 9-foot fence around 100 acres and, inside the enclosure, built a small lodge with a couple of bunk rooms, a pool table and a fireplace, and several mounted deer heads.
Two events foreshadowed the trouble to come.
In February 2004, the Bellar's Place high-fence hunting preserve near Peru, which other high-fence operators had held up as a model preserve, was raided by state and federal officials, who found egregious hunting law violations.
During owner Russ Bellar's trial, customers testified they shot deer near feeders or bait piles and sometimes in small pens. As his trial wound down, Bellar entered a guilty plea. He was ordered to pay a $575,000 fine and sentenced to a year in prison.
This past February, Hupfer was appointed by Gov. Mitch Daniels to head the natural resources agency. Hupfer is a deer hunter. But he also is mindful of public opinion. He has never visited a high-fence hunting operation, but he has received 1,300 e-mails regarding the practice -- 897 of them opposed.
He said his reading of Indiana law convinced him that high-fence hunting was not legal.
The statutes, however, are murky. They "do not directly address many of the questions surrounding the complicated and controversial issue of hunting privately owned deer kept on private property," the Indiana attorney general's office concluded in an opinion issued in August 2004.
Legal questions aside, Hupfer said, "The hunting of domesticated animals is not something the people of this state are interested in."
Some are. Although his operation is open only three days a week, Bruce has more than 40 people signed up for this season, which kicked off with the bowhunters this month. And he already has about two dozen guests booked for the 2006 season.
Fenced hunting appeals to people with busy lives, said Don Blinzinger, a lobbyist for the Indiana Deer Farmers, which counts hunting-preserve operators as members.
There are no guarantees at Whitetail Bluff, but Bruce said 93 percent of his customers get what they come for.
Even if Bruce loses his court challenge, Hupfer's ruling won't take effect until the end of the 2006 legislative session. That will give Bruce and his allies time to seek lawmakers' help.
Rep. William Friend, R-Macy, represents the region where Bellar operated his preserve, and he went to bat for Bellar several times in the legislature. He sees high-fence hunting as good for the economy and wishes people weren't so squeamish about it.
"If someone can make a business profitable in rural Indiana by managing those animals, it's a positive thing," he said. "Economic development looks different in rural Indiana."
http://www.courier-journal.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20051031/NEWS02/510310376/1025
Owner fights Indiana order for high-fence hunting sites to close
Animals can't escape, critics say
By Will Higgins
The Indianapolis Star
CORYDON, Ind. — As a hunting preserve owner, Rodney Bruce doesn't think he's doing anything wrong — not morally, not legally.
Nor do Indiana's nine other operators of so-called high-fence game ranches, where the hunters' prey are fenced in.
Nevertheless, they've come under heavy fire, and their future appears iffy.
Sportsmen's groups and animal-rights activists, unlikely bedfellows, are increasingly united in condemning high-fence hunting as unsportsmanlike and cruel.
A more immediate threat is an order by the Indiana Department of Natural Resources that they close down.
Fighting back, Bruce filed suit in Harrison Circuit Court, claiming the agency doesn't have the authority to put him out of business. The case gets under way with a pretrial conference today.
High-fence hunting -- detractors call it "canned" hunting -- is drawing criticism in other states, as well. Fifteen have banned it; 21 aren't allowing new facilities.
A bill is pending in the U.S. House that would hamper such operations by prohibiting the interstate commerce of exotic animals destined for hunting preserves. In addition to white-tailed deer, many preserves offer customers a chance to hunt non-native species such as wild boar.
Three years ago, Bruce opened his Whitetail Bluff preserve on 100 acres of hilly Harrison County wilderness. He built a 9-foot fence around it, in part to keep out any wild animals. Mostly, though, the fence was built to keep his deer in. He feeds and cares for the animals, some of which cost him $4,000 apiece. He uses them for breeding, and ultimately, when they're full-grown, the males become hunting inventory.
Bruce's customers, armed with bows or shotguns, depending on the season, prize "trophy" bucks, or "monster" bucks, so highly that they pay Bruce $3,900 for three days of hunting -- with a one-buck limit.
An Indiana hunting license costs far less, just $24, and shooting deer in the wild isn't that hard. But wild deer rarely live past the age of 3. That's half the age of many high-fence deer. A 3-year-old's rack is not "monster" enough for some people.
Bruce's deer aren't "taken" until they're at least 4. "I'm offering a hunting opportunity the state can't provide," Bruce said.
His customers agree.
"This is the kind of place where dreams are made," said Richard Riddle, 41, who owns a landscape company in Memphis, Tenn., and was at Whitetail Bluff earlier this month, on opening day of bow season.
Mainstream hunting organizations say high-fence hunting amounts to the shooting of what are essentially farm animals. Critics say high-fence hunting cuts off an animal's escape route, negates the time-honored concept of "fair chase" and gives hunting a bad name.
Animal-rights activists such as the Humane Society of the United States oppose all hunting but especially high-fence hunting, which they consider exceptionally foul. Foes also worry that confining deer increases the chance of disease, such as chronic wasting disease, which could spread to the wild deer population.
The potential death knell of Bruce's preserve came this summer when the Department of Natural Resources, after allowing the practice for a decade, pronounced it illegal. Kyle Hupfer, the agency's newly appointed director, gave high-fence preserves until next spring to cease operations.
Bruce, who works a factory job during the week, doesn't understand the outrage. "What I've got is the same principle as a pay (fishing) lake," he said.
In 1999, when Bruce was considering getting into the business, he wrote to the state agency to make sure it was legal. "My question is," he wrote, "can I legally charge people to come to my place for this vacation/hunting experience?"
The agency gave him the green light, though it cautioned that "state statutes and rules may change in the future that would disallow the type of business venture that you have described to us."
He bought a couple of hundred acres in Harrison County, near where he grew up. Mostly with his own hands, he erected the 9-foot fence around 100 acres and, inside the enclosure, built a small lodge with a couple of bunk rooms, a pool table and a fireplace, and several mounted deer heads.
Two events foreshadowed the trouble to come.
In February 2004, the Bellar's Place high-fence hunting preserve near Peru, which other high-fence operators had held up as a model preserve, was raided by state and federal officials, who found egregious hunting law violations.
During owner Russ Bellar's trial, customers testified they shot deer near feeders or bait piles and sometimes in small pens. As his trial wound down, Bellar entered a guilty plea. He was ordered to pay a $575,000 fine and sentenced to a year in prison.
This past February, Hupfer was appointed by Gov. Mitch Daniels to head the natural resources agency. Hupfer is a deer hunter. But he also is mindful of public opinion. He has never visited a high-fence hunting operation, but he has received 1,300 e-mails regarding the practice -- 897 of them opposed.
He said his reading of Indiana law convinced him that high-fence hunting was not legal.
The statutes, however, are murky. They "do not directly address many of the questions surrounding the complicated and controversial issue of hunting privately owned deer kept on private property," the Indiana attorney general's office concluded in an opinion issued in August 2004.
Legal questions aside, Hupfer said, "The hunting of domesticated animals is not something the people of this state are interested in."
Some are. Although his operation is open only three days a week, Bruce has more than 40 people signed up for this season, which kicked off with the bowhunters this month. And he already has about two dozen guests booked for the 2006 season.
Fenced hunting appeals to people with busy lives, said Don Blinzinger, a lobbyist for the Indiana Deer Farmers, which counts hunting-preserve operators as members.
There are no guarantees at Whitetail Bluff, but Bruce said 93 percent of his customers get what they come for.
Even if Bruce loses his court challenge, Hupfer's ruling won't take effect until the end of the 2006 legislative session. That will give Bruce and his allies time to seek lawmakers' help.
Rep. William Friend, R-Macy, represents the region where Bellar operated his preserve, and he went to bat for Bellar several times in the legislature. He sees high-fence hunting as good for the economy and wishes people weren't so squeamish about it.
"If someone can make a business profitable in rural Indiana by managing those animals, it's a positive thing," he said. "Economic development looks different in rural Indiana."