This article shows what a joke hunting can be:

Even as Idaho has sold more than 14,000 wolf-hunting permits, the first 10 days of the first legal wolf hunt here in decades have yielded only three reported legal kills. [...] Mr. Rachael, the state wildlife manager, said he thought it was unlikely that hunters would reach the quota of 220 wolves that Idaho game officials have said could be killed this season.

Fourteen thousand permits sold, 220 wolves to be killed, and only 3 successes. What kind of hunter produces these numbers?

[Mr. Rachael, the state wildlife manager] recalled talking to hunters who recently called looking for advice after spending a couple of days in futile pursuit: “You know,” the hunters confessed, “we don’t know how to hunt wolves.”

Neither did J. D. Hagedorn or his father, Marv, a Republican state representative. They did enjoy trying, though.

First light lined the Sawtooth Mountains as Marv Hagedorn, a 9 millimeter strapped to his thigh, a rifle ready, howled with hope into the foothills.

Nothing howled back.

He spotted an elk at ease on a ridge. A grouse ruffled. The sun rose. Canis lupus, if he was out there, kept quiet. He leaned toward his son, a 24-year-old Iraq war veteran, and whisper-giggled, “I don’t hear anything, but I don’t know if my howl’s worth anything.”

He added, “This has never been done.”

Hmmm.