As a kid, I was a wanton killer of non-human creatures [wanton = "lacking reason or provocation"].  I grew up in a town where if a critter had fins, fur, feathers or four or more feet, it was fair game.  I got my first BB-gun when I was about 10—a Daisy Red Ryder at that!  One of my later BB-guns had 110 notches on it before it wore out (the notches indicating the number of birds I had killed with it).  I even continued into adulthood with little regard especially for creatures conveniently labeled as “vermin.”  Often frustrated with an unsuccessful day hunting “game,” I would look for something else to kill: porcupines, chipmunks, red squirrels, or even blue jays (which were actually protected by law).  [See under "Articles" my story "Conversion of the Birdslayer."]

I realize now that my behavior was at the very least unsportsmanlike.  Perhaps becoming a nature writer and a creation-care advocate was my Creator’s way of compelling me to make amends for my bad deeds!  Isn’t it something how we can justify bad behavior so easily by labeling our targets: vermin, pests, dirty, trash—even game?  And how easily labeling in order to demonize can be transferred from non-human creatures to people.

I’m a different person now as a grandfather.  I encourage my grandchildren to avoid doing what I did as a kid.  Our oldest granddaughter is a master bug catcher, and not yet having been stung, she boldly captures bees with a jar and lid—even the big carpenter bees.  But I let her know how much I like it when she releases them and doesn’t let them die.  I tell the grandkids this: “God has made each creature with specific work to do—work that is vital to nature’s processes and balance.  We have our work and they have their work.  So unless they are harming you or threatening to harm you, let them do what God made them for.”

George MacDonald even believed that the sentient animals that died on earth in the past will be the living animals we share the new earth with.  Since that is, of course, a minority view and one not specifically stated in Scripture, it is not a view that I could hold with any conviction.  But it is certainly a pleasing view—especially if it means our pets.  MacDonald does, however, ask a penetrating question about God caring for and noting the death of even so humble a bird as a sparrow: “What divine purpose is the maker of the sparrow present at its death, if he does not care what becomes of it?”

In his landmark book Pollution and the Death of Man: The Christian View of Ecology (Tyndale House: 1970, p.76), Francis Schaeffer spoke about the reason for our respect for God’s non-human creatures [He was writing this at the end of the sixties]:

The hippies are right in their desire to be close to nature, even walking in bare feet in order to feel it.  But they have no sufficient philosophy, and so it drifts into pantheism and soon becomes ugly.  But Christians, who should understand the creation principle, have a reason for respecting nature, and when they do, it results in benefits to man.  Let us be clear: it is not just a pragmatic attitude; there is a basis for it.  We treat it with respect because God made it.  When an orthodox, evangelical Christian mistreats or is insensible to nature, at that point he is more wrong than the hippie who has no real basis for his feeling for nature and yet senses that man and nature should have relationship beyond that of spoiler and spoiled.  You may, or may not, want to walk barefoot to feel close to nature, but as a Christian what relationship have you thought of and practiced toward nature as your fellow creature over the last ten years.

The emphasis in that quote was Schaeffer’s—and probably a good emphasis for followers of Christ the Creator today.