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Cat Defender

Exposing the Lies and Crimes of Bird Advocates, Wildlife Biologists, the United States Fish and Wildlife Service, PETA, the Humane Society of the United States, Exterminators, Vivisectors, the Scientific Community, Fur Traffickers, Cloners, Breeders, Designer Pet Purveyors, Hoarders, Motorists, the United States Military, and Other Ailurophobes

Tuesday, April 04, 2017

A Mass Murderer of Cats, Entrepreneur, Medicine Man, and Artist Are Just a Few of the Many Hats That Are Worn by a "Hands-On Environmentalist" on Kangaroo Island

Killing Cats and Selling Their Pelts Keeps Barry Green in Beer Money

"It's art. I give all my cats another life. I hate to waste a skin and they are much appreciated."
-- Barry Green

Sixty-five-year-old bearded and beer-guzzling Barry Green from the tiny village of American River on Kangaroo Island, located fourteen kilometers off the coast of the state of South Australia, may not look like much to the discriminating eye but he is a big man down under. That is so much the case in fact that he is treated as an unqualified national hero by the country's capitalist media, its politicians, and its denizens.

His first claim to fame is that of being a self-anointed, fully-fledged member in good standing of that sanctum sanctorum, the environmental movement. "I'm a hands-on environmentalist," he proudly declared to The Sydney Morning Herald on February 21, 2016. (See "Kangaroo Island's Barry Green Wages War on Feral Cat Threat to Native Birdlife.")

His authority for making such an outlandish claim rests solely upon his having killed as astounding fourteen-hundred cats over the course of the past nineteen years. Quite obviously, not much is required for one to become a big man in a land of morally retarded midgets.

His modus operandi has not been divulged but he apparently lures them into traps baited with commercial cat food and afterwards shoots them in the head. He then methodically weighs and measures each of his victims before entering that data along with their color, sex, and the location of their murders into a ledger. As the result of his meticulous recordkeeping, he recently was able to proudly declare that he had killed exactly thirteen-hundred-ninety-two of them through February of this year.

"It averages out to about two a week but I don't trap as much as I used to," he explained to his avid supporters at The Sydney Morning Herald. "I can't afford to travel and you've got to check the traps every day."

C'est-à-dire, his overpowering lust for feline blood is tempered only by his stinginess in that killing cats not only costs him a pretty penny in petrol to power his jalopy but on top of that there is the added expense of bait, traps, and shells to consider. His self-professed adherence to a governmental edict that traps be checked every day can be safely dismissed as a lie given that neither he nor the high-muck-a-mucks give so much as a hang about how long that a condemned feline is forced to languish in a trap; both parties simply want them dead as quickly as possible and in furtherance of that objective any available means will suffice, no matter either how cruel or barbaric.

The thing that really perturbs him, however, is the government's refusal to share with him any of the A$2 million in bounties that it has placed on the heads of cats living on Kangaroo Island. That constitutes the centerpiece of its full court press to eradicate all of them, including domestics, by 2030.

"The government's throwing big money around to try and solve the problem but none of it is coming my way," he cried a proverbial river to The Advertiser of Adelaide on March 18 of this year. (See "Catman: Lone Kangaroo Island Crusader Gets No State Anti-Feral Cat Bounty Despite Killing Thirteen-Hundred Cats.")

Whereas it is not known how that the authorities in either Canberra or Kingscote, the administrative center of the island, dole out their bounty money, Green certainly would not be engaging in such painstaking recordkeeping if he were not expecting to get his fair share of it somewhere down the line. Besides, there cannot be any doubting whatsoever the resolve of the authorities.

"We have to reach a point where we don't have any cats on this island," mayor Peter Clements declared to the Australian Broadcasting Company (ABC) on October 16, 2016. (See "Feral Cats: Kangaroo Island's Plan to Eradicate All Felines Within Fifteen Years.") "The feral cat is an apex predator. It is ruining our species here on the island and we are totally committed to eliminating all cats."

The island's estimated six-thousand homeless cats plus an unspecified number of domestics are an integral part of the government in Canberra's plans to wipe out more than two-million of them nationwide by a variety of what can only be described as diabolical means. (See Cat Defender post of November 18, 2016 entitled "A Clever Devil at the University of Adelaide Boasts That He Has Discovered the Achilles' Heel of Cats with His Invention of Robotic Grooming Traps as the Thoroughly Evil Australians' All-Out War Against the Species Enters Its Final Stages.")

A similar dispute over pay arose a little more than a year ago when it was revealed that archers Zach "Shaggy" Slattery and Aaron Wilksch were having a field day mowing down cats on Kangaroo. Like Green, they too lamely attempted to pass themselves off as environmentalists and humane killers. (See the Daily Mail, February 24, 2016, "Man Who Shoots Feral Cats with a Bow and Arrow Posts Pictures of Kills Online Gets Death Threats for His 'Animal Cruelty' " and the ABC, February 24, 2016, "Bow Hunter Targeted with Global Hate Campaign for Shooting Feral Cats in Australia.")

Shortly thereafter, Threatened Species Commissioner Gregory Andrews, the driving force behind Australia's war on cats, denied that the bow hunters were on the government's payroll even though other media outlets earlier had claimed that indeed was the case. (See the ABC, March 13, 2016, "Bow Hunting of Feral Cats Is Cruel and 'Not Part of the Strategy,' Threatened Species Commissioner Says" and The Mirror of London, March 7, 2016, "Anonymous Declares War on 'Cat Killer' Who Admits to Slaughtering Moggies with a Bow and Arrow.")

While it is entirely possible that Slattery and Wilksch were killing cats for the sheer pleasure of doing so, that does not seem likely. If they were not on the payroll of the moral degenerate Andrews, they likely were trafficking in the lucrative market that already exists for their flesh and pelts.

In Green's case, after he kills the cats he next skins and tans their hides in a prelude to fashioning them into, inter alia, blankets, curtains, caps, refrigerator magnets, bookmarkers, and holders for telephones, toilet paper, and beer bottles and cans. His wife, Julie, no doubt plays an integral role in the latter part of that process.

Dead Cats Drying on a Laundry Rack

Far from being an isolated case, many of his fellow countrymen, such as Nigel Burgess and Robyn Eades of King Island, located midway between Melbourne and Tasmania, are actively engaged in the same sorry business. (See Cat Defender post of July 14, 2008 entitled "An Australian Park Ranger and a Seamstress Team Up to Go into Business as Cat-Killers and Fur Traffickers.")

The ever obliging Australian media conveniently omit any reference whatsoever to what Green does with the flesh of his victims. Since it would be totally out of character for anyone as niggardly and greedy as him to simply discard it, he very well could be using it in order to bait his traps.

A far more plausible scenario, however, is that he, like his fellow environmentalist and children's author, Kaye Kessing of Alice Springs in the Northern Territory, is consuming what he kills. After all, since he used to work in a slaughterhouse, that would be something that is right up his alley. (See Cat Defender post of September 7, 2007 entitled "Australians Renounce Civilization and Revert to Savages with the Introduction of a Grotesque Plan to Get Rid of Cats by Eating Them.")

Green's cat-killing prowess in turn has transformed American River into a popular tourist attraction that siphons off many of the one-hundred-eighty-thousand visitors who annually travel to Kangaroo Island. Once they arrive, the pièce de résistance is none other than Green's abode, which he appropriately has dubbed as "Feral's (sic) End."

For example, media tycoon, tax cheat, thug, and all-around first-class louse Kerry Francis Bullmore Packer once stopped by sometime before his death in 2005 in order to purchase six of his beer holders. That in itself is not surprising given that birds of a feather tend to flock together but also because most Australians, being the descendants of English jailbirds, never have been quite able to rise above their genetic predisposition toward immorality and criminality.

None of that explains, however, why that individuals who supposedly care about cats are so willing to subsidize Green's wholesale slaughter of them. "People put them (cat blankets) on an armchair and treat them like a normal pet," he averred to The Advertiser.

That is even more so the case now that Hasbro of Pawtucket, Rhode Island, is busily marketing robotic cats that not only meow and purr but also are capable of moving their eyes, ears, paws, and rolling on their stomachs. Priced at $100 apiece, they are popular with individuals, such as those confined to old folks' homes, who either are not allowed to have cats of their own or are incapable of properly caring for them. (See The Philadelphia Inquirer, March 14, 2017, "The Cats Aren't Real, but Comforts to Seniors Are.")

In addition to being a cat killer and a trafficker in their fur, Green also is a medicine man. "I had a lady from Queensland ring me to say her Chinese herbalist recommended cat skins for her rheumatoid arthritis," he proudly admitted to The Advertiser. "It's the static electricity that helps."

Every bit as certain as death and taxes, whenever there are cats to be nakedly abused and exploited the Chinese are sure to be involved in the carnage right up to their slanted eyeballs. For instance, not only are they huge connoisseurs of feline flesh and traffickers in their fur but they routinely exterminate in droves those that are homeless. (See Cat Defender posts of February 8, 2006, March 27, 2008, and March 28, 2008 entitled, respectively, "Stray Cats Are Rounded Up in Shanghai, Butchered, and Sold as Mutton in Restaurants and on the Street," "Tens of Thousands of Cats Are Being Rounded Up and Sent to Death Camps as Beijing Prepares to Host the Summer Olympics," and "Persecuted by Both the Government and Their Fellow Citizens, a Few Dedicated Women Are Attempting to Save China's Cats.")

Mao Tse-tung even went so far as to declare the South China Tiger to be an enemy of the people and as a result it is now believed to be extinct in the wild. Those few that remain are confined to captive-breeding facilities where they are mercilessly robbed of their body parts and fluids in order to make Tiger Bone Wine and an assortment of quack herbal remedies. (See Cat Defender posts of November 2, 2007 entitled "For the First Time in Decades, Rare South China Tiger Is Confirmed to Be Alive in the Wild.")

There is at least one effort currently under way in order to return a few of them to the wild but that project faces many daunting obstacles. (See Cat Defender post of March 11, 2008 entitled "South China Tigers Are Being Bred and Trained at a South African Reserve for an Eventual Return to the Wild.")

Such a development is not even remotely possible, however, for the Tasmanian Tiger (Thylacine) which the dedicated conservationists down under hunted into extinction in the 1930's.

In addition to both big and small cats, the Chinese are pushing the populations of both elephants and rhinoceroses to the brink of extinction because of their lust for ivory. They are doing likewise with the sharks that they relieve of their fins in order to turn them into soup, raccoon dogs which they slaughter in the millions for their valuable fur, and moon bears which they exploit for their fluids. (See Cat Defender post of November 18, 2005 entitled "A Chinese Farmer Gets His Just Deserts as He Is Killed and Eaten by the Moon Bears That He Tortured for Their Bile.")

More recently they have been accused of decimating the population of Africa's donkeys which they, after slaughtering en masse, melt down into aphrodisiacs. (See Deutsche Welle of Bonn, November 7, 2016, "Bad Donkey Business.")

Feral's End Has Become a Popular Tourist Magnet

It thus is fair to surmise that even though the governmental largess may not as of yet have started to pour in, Green is doing rather well financially in his dual roles as both a merchant of death and as a medicine man. That is so much the case in fact that he is planning on expanding his business.

"I'm looking to take on an apprentice but they need to know it's a tough and messy job and not for everyone," he told The Advertiser.

He of course could really clean up financially if he were willing to advertise his services but so far he has relied almost exclusively upon his comrades-in-arms within the capitalist media and word-of-mouth in order to promote his cat-killing racket. "I have hundreds of letters (but) I don't advertise anywhere because of the cat lovers," he conceded to The Sydney Morning Herald.

Even the prospect of additional criticism is not sufficient in order to even tempt him to mend his evil ways and to find some legitimate means of coming up with his beer money. "I can already see lots of hate mail coming again," he forecasted to The Advertiser.

In spite of all the do-re-mi that Green is making, the inveterate liars at The Advertiser would have the outside world to believe that he is a near penniless wildlife advocate whose cat-killing spree has "cost him thousands over twenty years" and that he "only recoups a few dollars selling macabre souvenirs of his trophies." A far more accurate portrait of him would be that of a ruthless and cold-blooded killer motivated solely by greed and an unquenchable thirst for feline blood who is operating under the guise of an environmentalist with a halo in order to mask his despicable crimes.

The reason that Green has been unable to reap the financial bonanza that he so dearly covets is that killing cats has become so banal in Australia that it scarcely any longer even raises so much as an eyebrow. The same is true for the tens of millions of cane toads, red foxes, rabbits, rats, carp, camels, horses, donkeys, pigs, dingoes, and kangaroos that his fellow citizens are so cruelly and senselessly extirpating. (See Agence France Presse, September 25, 2005, "Millions of Animals Face Death Sentence in Australia.")

In order to truly make a mint off of the slaughter of defenseless animals it is first of all necessary that such outrageous crimes be capable of sparking fierce opposition. Australians however are so totally bereft of any sense of right and wrong that they are ready, willing, and able to sanction the commission of almost any crime, no matter either how great or heinous.

If, on the other hand, Green were to reside in a society that paid at least lip service to both morality and the anti-cruelty statutes he could be assured of at least being arrested. Once he therefore had become a cause célèbre, the big bucks and the job opportunities would begin to roll in with the rapidity of the IRT into Grand Central Terminal.

For example, James Munn Stevenson was an obscure amateur ornithologist who got his perverted kicks by slipping around on the sly and gunning down hundreds of cats with his trusty rifle. That undoubtedly provided him with immense personal pleasure but both fame and fortune continued to elude him.

He got careless one day, however, and as a result he was caught flagrante delicto and arrested. That faux pas led to a few anxious moments for him but in the end he ultimately was acquitted by a jury and afterwards not only landed a prestigious job teaching at a nearby college but also became a hero to ornithologists and wildlife biologists everywhere. (See Cat Defender posts of November 22, 2006, May 1, 2007, November 20, 2007, December 8, 2007, and August 7, 2008 entitled, respectively, "Evil Galveston Bird Lover Is Finally Arrested After Having Gunned Down Hundreds of Cats," "The Houston Chronicle Launches a Propaganda Offensive on Behalf of Serial Cat Killer Jim Stevenson," "Bird Lovers All Over the World Rejoice as Serial Killer James M. Stevenson Is Rewarded by a Galveston Court for Gunning Down Hundreds of Cats," "All the Lies That Fit: Scheming New York Times Hires a Bird Lover to Render His 'Unbiased' Support for James M. Stevenson," and "Crime Pays! Having Made Fools Out of Galveston Prosecutors, Serial Cat Killer James Munn Stevenson Is Now a Hero and Laughing All the Way to the Bank.")

Then there is the unforgettable case of Robert Fawcett, the general manager of Howling Dog Tours of Whistler in British Columbia (BC). During the 2010 Winter Olympics in nearby Vancouver he was raking in upwards of £200 an hour by offering dog sled rides to the attendees.

Once the games ended, however, so did the flow of the moola and being way too cheap in order to feed and house his Siberian Huskies, he shot and slit the throats of more than one-hundred of them between April 21st and April 23rd. Afterwards, he buried their bloody corpses in a mass grave.

His wholesale atrocities did not make the light of day until late January of the following year and even then it was only because he had applied for and received a disability pension. In order to get his itchy palms on that governmental freebie, he not only had remorselessly confessed to killing the dogs but also claimed that doing so had left him suffering from a post traumatic stress disorder. (See the Daily Mail, February 1, 2011, "Pack of One-Hundred Huskies Shot and Knifed to Death Before Being Tossed in a Mass Grave by Tour Operator Trying to Save Money," the Calgary Herald, February 1, 2011, "Canmore Firms Shocks by Slaughter of One-Hundred Sled Dogs in Whistler, British Columbia," the Calgary Sun, February 2, 2011, "SPCA Drawn into Husky Controversy," the Daily Mail, May 3, 2011, "War Games Experts Exhume Bodies of One-Hundred Sled Dogs Killed by Tour Operator in Post Winter Olympics Massacre," and Macleans, October 27, 2011, "Whistler's Sled Dog Massacre.")

Barry Green's So-Called Masterpiece, "Curiosity."

Once his case was finally heard in North Vancouver Provincial Court on November 22, 2012, numbskull judge Steven Merrick let this monster off with a minuscule fine of C$1,725 which he, sans doute, paid for with the pile that he already was getting from the government. Quite understandably, that utterly insane verdict left Marcie Moriarty of the BC SPCA flabbergasted.

"To say we are shocked by this sentence for these gruesome killings is an understatement," she told The Globe and Mail of Toronto on that same date. (See "Fawcett Spared Jail Time in Sentencing Related to Sled Dog Killings.")

No additional news articles have appeared online concerning him but more than likely he is still living high on the welfare hog and in fact he may never have to turn so much as a hand ever again at any type of gainful employment. Things are different in Australia where absolutely no one cares how many cats that individuals like Green kill but that is not any reason for him to be pissed off at the world and crying in his beer when there are so many ways, other than governmental, that he could be cashing in on his crimes.

For instance, he could ask his champions at The Advertiser, The Sydney Morning Herald, and the ABC to add him to their anti-cat reporting teams. Plus, just about all of Australia's ultra-ailurophobic universities would dearly love to have him on staff in order to instruct their acolytes in the proper techniques of killing and skinning cats. Already brainwashed to the point of being totally unable to differentiate fact from fiction in a post-truth world, they doubtlessly would eat up his warped morality with a pitch fork.

A tome and a world tour in order to promote it would be yet still another way for him to pocket a few simoleons. Why, in the United States alone members of the National Audubon Society, the American Bird Conservancy, the Smithsonian Institution, and the United States Fish and Wildlife Service, just to name a few, would jump out of their silk drawers for the rare and distinct pleasure of getting down on all fours like a dog and licking the blood, splattered brain tissues, and cat hairs off of his boots.

Although every bit as cheap and greedy as him, they just might be so overcome with gratitude as to toss some loose change in his direction. There might even be enough of it for him to purchase another six-pack.

If all other money-making schemes should fail to bear fruit, he could always organize a one-man exhibit featuring none other than himself. He might even want to call it: "Eureka! Neanderthal Man's Long-Lost Australian Bastard Brother."

While he is weighing his options, Green has another racket up his dirty sleeves. That is to say, he has come to consider himself to be somewhat of an artist.

In particular, he has created the housing for a clock, a curtain, and a suit out of the fur that he has stolen from his victims. His masterpiece, however, is a meter-wide collage entitled "Curiosity" that is comprised entirely of the severed heads of cats with bird feathers stuffed into their mouths.

Although the intent of this purported objet d'art is to insinuate that the cats killed the birds that could not possibly have been the case in that Green gets all of the cats that he kills by trapping them and no cat is about to venture into a cage with food already in its mouth. That petit fait in turn strongly suggests that they were killed, not by the cats, but rather by this self-professed "hands-on environmentalist."

Entitling the collage "Curiosity" also reveals once again the utter contempt that all Australians harbor in their black and corroded souls for cats. They also manufacture and market sausages laced with paraaminopropiophenone (PAPP) under that brand name which they use in order to hideously poison cats on Kangaroo as well as throughout the country. (See The Sydney Morning Herald, July 1, 2014, "'Curiosity': the Cat-Killing Bait to Protect Native Species.")

That same marked disdain for the species also is evident for all to see in the derogatory names that Green has attached to some of his pelts, such as "Longshot," "Splat," and "Up Close and Personal." He, however, has purloined a far more loftier name for his despicable crimes.

"It's art," he exclaimed to The Advertiser with a devilish chuckle. "I give all my cats another life. I hate to waste a skin and they are much appreciated."

Even in death his cats are thus able to retain some small measure of their former inestimable value and that is a good deal more than ever can be said of Green and his fellow countrymen. Not only are they patently unfit to be allowed to go on breathing for so much as another minute but even their remains would not make passable fertilizer.

Photos: Dylan Coker of The Advertiser (Green) and Emma Byrnes of The Sydney Morning Herald (dead cats, Feral's End, and "Curiosity").