Warren Brown adjusts his hearing aids as he speaks, a quiet reminder of decades spent around firearms.

As president of the Griffith Sporting Shooters Association, he's seen firsthand what years of shooting without proper hearing protection can do.

"I've lost most of my hearing. That's why I'm wearing these," he says, tapping the small devices.

It's this personal experience that fuels his support for sound suppressors—what Hollywood calls silencers but what Brown knows are simply tools to protect what's left of his hearing.

The debate over hunting rights has reached fever pitch in NSW Parliament, where the Shooters, Fishers and Farmers party has introduced their "right to hunt" bill.

The legislation would establish a new hunting authority with power to issue licences allowing recreational shooters to use sound suppressors and night vision equipment.

For Brown and others in rural communities, it's about practical solutions to real problems. "They're not silencers—that's a Hollywood concoction," he explains patiently. "They're sound moderators or sound suppressors. There's benefits to neighbours who are nearby where shooting might be happening. It stops them from being alarmed about it."

But the Greens see something far more sinister. MP Sue Higginson's words paint a different picture entirely: "The proposed law seeks to enshrine a 'right to hunt' and allow hunters to shoot in the darkness of night, in the forests of NSW, with night vision equipment and silencers. It's literally a horror movie nightmare unfolding before us."

The gulf between these perspectives runs deep, splitting along familiar urban-rural lines that define so much of Australian politics.

Life on the Land

Helen Dalton knows both sides of this divide intimately. The independent MP for Murray, formerly with the Shooters, Fishers and Farmers party, is also a farmer and firearm user.

She's lived the reality that many urban politicians can only imagine.

"The Greens, they're not living the environment that we've got out where I am," Dalton says with characteristic directness.

"Obviously, they're not impacted by these feral animals as much as what we are. Because if they understood, Sue Higginson wouldn't be making some of these complaints, because we're losing the battle."

That battle isn't metaphorical. Dalton has hit a goat while driving; others in her community have struck pigs.

The financial cost runs deeper than vehicle repairs.

"Animals like pigs and goats, if you've got sheep that are lambing, they will take the lamb," she explains.

"Foxes work in pairs and will sometimes take the lamb's kidneys or tongues so they can't suck. It's a big financial cost, but you know, just the whole issue of seeing your livestock basically being eaten alive."

The imagery is stark, but it's the daily reality for farmers across rural NSW. For them, feral animal control isn't about sport—it's about survival.

Strict Standards Remain

Both Brown and Dalton are quick to emphasise that their support for expanded hunting rights doesn't mean loosening Australia's strict gun laws. The framework established after the Port Arthur massacre remains fundamental to their thinking.

"Australia has very strict firearms laws, and there's no suggestion that they should be changed or watered down," Brown says firmly.

"This proposal is about opening up public land and private land, providing the landholder is in agreement, to opportunities for people to hunt, particularly feral animals."

Dalton knows the licensing process intimately, having navigated it herself. "To get a shooting licence, you had to apply about five times because they don't want just anyone to have a licence," she recalls.

"It's quite rigorous. We've had the gun laws coming in after the Port Arthur massacre. It's been very much tightened up."

The safety measures are comprehensive: guns locked in one safe, ammunition in another.

"I haven't got a problem with all of that, and I certainly don't want US-style gun laws," Dalton emphasises.

"Society will not accept that sort of thing, but what we will accept are some clever shooters coming in and giving us a hand to control feral pests."

The Real Cost

The Nature Conservation Council's CEO Jacqui Mumford argues the bill would weaken firearm laws and raise serious public safety concerns.

For urban environmentalists, the focus remains on potential risks rather than current realities.

But for farmers like Dalton, the cost of inaction is measured in dead livestock and damaged vehicles.

"If you hit them in a vehicle, they're going to do a lot of damage," she says simply. It's not just about money—though the financial impact is real—it's about watching animals you've raised and cared for being "basically eaten alive."

The divide seems unbridgeable at times.

City-based Greens see "horror movie nightmares" where rural communities see practical solutions to pressing problems.

Environmental groups worry about public safety where farmers see an opportunity to protect their livelihoods and their hearing.

What both sides share is a genuine concern for safety and wellbeing. The question is whether they can find common ground in the space between Hollywood stereotypes and rural realities, between environmental protection and practical pest control.

For now, the debate continues in Parliament, with each side certain they're protecting what matters most.

Warren Brown will keep adjusting his hearing aids, Helen Dalton will keep dealing with feral animals, and somewhere in the middle, NSW will need to find a way forward that acknowledges both the genuine concerns of environmentalists and the daily realities of life on the land.