Serbian Animals Voice (SAV)

At some point over the next couple of weeks, our completely independent global ‘Clustrmap’ service is going to revert back to being a clean map with no red dots.

http://www4.clustrmaps.com/counter/maps.php?user=9b44b4e0

This is not a problem; but is just part of the annual clean up that is done by the Clustrmap folks.  All the current red dots will be removed and we will revert to a new, clean global map.

If this annual clean up did not take place, we would just be swamped in red – and the map would not give us any indication of where our visitors are coming from.  It is a little map, but we do get some idea of where visitors are located; and as such we can target campaigns more to those regions.  If you wish to see a bigger version, just click where indicated (on the map) – bottom right.

So when you see a ‘nice clean map’ turn up on the site sometime soon; don’t worry about it.  The more visitors we get from different parts of the world, the sooner the map will glow bright red once again.

Keep visiting and help us glow red quickly !!

Here below are some of the global visitors we have had during the last 12 months.

THE VOICE OF THE VOICELESS

I am the voice of the voiceless;
    Through me the dumb shall speak;
Till the deaf world’s ear be made to hear
    The cry of the wordless weak.
From street, from cage, and from kennel,
    From jungle and stall, the wail
Of my tortured kin proclaims the sin
    Of the mighty against the frail.

I am a ray from the centre;
    And I will feed God’s spark,
Till a great light glows in the night and shows
    The dark deeds done in the dark.
And full on the thoughtless sleeper
    Shall flash its glaring flame,
Till he wakens to see what crimes may be
    Cloaked under an honoured name.

The same Force formed the sparrow
    That fashioned man, the king;
The God of the Whole gave a spark of soul
    To furred and to feathered thing.
And I am my brother’s keeper,
    And I will fight his fight,
And speak the word for beast and bird,
    Till the world shall set things right.

Let no voice cavil at Science–
The strong torch-bearer of God;
For brave are his deeds, though dying creeds,
Must fall where his feet have trod.
But he who would trample kindness
And mercy into the dust–
He has missed the trail, and his quest will fail:
He is not the guide to trust.

For love is the true religion,
And love is the law sublime;
And all that is wrought, where love is not,
Will die at the touch of time.
And Science, the great revealer,
Must flame his torch at the Source;
And keep it bright with that holy light,
Or his feet shall fail on the course.

Oh, never a brute in the forest,
And never a snake in the fen,
Or ravening bird, starvation stirred,
Has hunted its prey like men.
For hunger, and fear, and passion
Alone drive beasts to slay,
But wonderful man, the crown of the plan,
Tortures, and kills, for play.

He goes well fed from his table;
He kisses his child and wife;
Then he haunts a wood, till he orphans a brood,
Or robs a deer of its life.
He aims at a speck in the azure;
Winged love, that has flown at a call;
It reels down to die, and he lets it lie;
His pleasure was seeing it fall.

And one there was, weary of laurels,
Of burdens and troubles of State;
So the jungle he sought, with the beautiful thought
Of shooting a she lion’s mate.
And one came down from the pulpit,
In the pride of a duty done,
And his cloth sufficed, as his emblem of Christ,
While murder smoked out of his gun.

One strays from the haunts of fashion
With an indolent, unused brain;
But his sluggish heart feels a sudden start
In the purpose of giving pain.
And the fluttering flock of pigeons,
As they rise on eager wings,
From prison to death, bring a catch in his breath:
Oh, the rapture of killing things!

Now, this is the race as we find it,
Where love, in the creed, spells hate;
And where bird and beast meet a foe in the priest
And in rulers of fashion and State.
But up to the Kingdom of Thinkers
Has risen the cry of our kin;
And the weapons of thought are burnished and brought
To clash with the bludgeons of sin.

Far Christ, of a million churches,
Come near to the earth again;
Be more than a Name; be a living Flame;
‘Make Good’ in the hearts of men.
Shine full on the path of Science,
And show it the heights above,
Where vast truths lie for the searching eye
That shall follow the torch of love.

Poems of experience. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
London : Gay and Hancock, Ltd. 1910.

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Current Country Totals
From 12 Mar 2014 to 1 Mar 2015

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