Before being killed, the dignity of the dying animal is mirrored on the hunter, restoring his image and ennobling him in its reflected glow. The ground on which the human/animal confrontation takes place can only be imagined as a moral ground, for the two parties do not have the same means at their disposal: although Leopold criticized the excessive use of technological means even in hunting, it is clear that neither he nor his American contemporaries hunted with their bare hands, much less did they do so out of necessity, and that the asymmetry on the material level called for a sufficiently lofty ethical justification.
In measuring himself against the animal, the human being could reach the heart of his own essence; indeed, they share a common animality—albeit one immediately sublimated—in the killing of the prey: a moment necessary to re-establish the superiority of the predator.
The fierce green fire in the eyes of the wolf dies, and the spirit of Man is kindled.
How can the consciousness of the animal be honored by killing it? And yet the predator usurps the consciousness of the animal, and then even that of the mountain that is its home, and by taking on the part of the mountain and the animal, he elevates himself to guardian of creation.
