Of course I have still been at least crawling around the web and have found much entertainment and as always a little offense. I'll direct you to some goodies, but I hope that in my absence you have visited not only friends linked to here but also O &P, Heidi, Mary, Chas, Roseann, Pluvi (returned from the Stans and seeing Goshawks at home!) and Darren.
Patrick weighs in here on mandatory spay neuter and-- scroll up on the site-- with a wrinkle on Zumbo: "Marmot Culture". Patrick, you haven't seen Marmot Culture until you have visited Mongolia!
A federal court finds for the Second Amendment! The NYT is somewhat shocked. Istapundit isn't.
Bruce Douglas comments:
" "The majority rejected the District’s
argument that the Second Amendment should apply only
to the kinds of guns in use at the end of the 18th
century" always gets me. I'd be cool with carrying a
brace of flintlocks if the media was willing to
distribute the news on individually printed
handbills, distributed by horse and foot. Oh yeah,
they also have to get rid of air conditioning in DC
and go back to outhouses. And, of course, dueling
was legal again."
Carel delights Libby by telling us all about softshell turtles, her favorite reptile (if in this cladistic age we can still use such an archaic term.)
Sixty to eighty cheetahs persist in Iran!
The Irish may really be English.
Puritan anti- drug warriors are trying to turn our kids into Stalin-era youth prohibitionist- informants. Luckily ours (Mr. P.) didn't get anything like that, and I doubt his potential kids-- or Odious's actual one (see his recent post)-- will either.
Annie D sends news of a new clouded leopard in Borneo. This cat is not just genetically distinct-- it actually looks different.
The prairies should burn-- but not evenly.
"The prairies were never some homogenous sea of grass rolling off in unending sameness. They were a patchwork, a shifting mosaic of burned and unburned, some places grazed down, others hardly grazed at all. Some areas were replete with forbs and others not. Patches ranged from small to immense. And none of this happened on a set schedule; the whole process was infused with randomness and rotating change. Conditioned to forests, settlers from the east may have little perceived the diversity of the prairies, but diverse and dynamic they were."
(HT Walter Hingley).
Stewart Brand has never stopped thinking originally. As Tom McIntyre says: "God (or Gaia, if you prefer) bless old acid freaks!"
You want biodiversity? THIS is biodiversity! HT Nate and Liz Johnson.
And finally: they can always amaze me. The AR movement has apparently combined with academia to convene the (seventh annual!) "Convention on Inadmissible Questions" on the question "Can the Holocaust be compared with African American slavery or the Native American genocide? Can any of these experiences be related to those of animals on today’s factory farms?".
Their apparent answer is "Yes". I was going to comment but I think I'll just let it hang. I'm not sure it isn't historically illiterate to compare the first three...
Doomed!
Update: Darren has already informed us that the "new" clouded leopard was described in 1823. Two lessons: don't get sick and don't miss Darren, even for a few days...
Monday, March 19, 2007
"Sicker than a Doorknob"
... was an expression that the late Ernie Pino, Mr. Malaprop of the Golden Spur, used to use. We won't even touch on its etymology.
But that is why I have been absent-- I have been sick for a while and just got worn out. I hasten to say that I am feeling a good bit better.
But it occurs that there is some biological and evolutionary interest in the matter as well as an excuse. WHAT I had was persistent bacterial pneumonia, a severe sinus infection, and infected ears, one on the edge (?) of an abcess. But WHY I had it may be of interest. I hope so anyway-- my writing on my malaria years back made more than one person say writers will write about anything.
You see, I have a (not very rare) genetic condition-- I carry a gene for at least one abnormal CFTR protein. Two copies cause the debilitating lifelong condition known as Cystic Fibrosis.
Until recently it was though that single gene "carriers" were perfectly healthy, and most informational websites still say so. But a few years back evidence began to mount that at least some single gene carriers begin to manifest some CF- type symptoms in their late forties and fifties. I am 57.
Around (I think) 2000 I saw a report on this in New Scientist magazine, and emailed my sister Anita, who is a health professional specializing in CF, enquiring. I was beginning to suffer from thick mucus and persistent sinus infections, and had to have nasal polyps removed. She replied with a list of symptoms. I had them all. She urged me to get tested and I found that I did indeed have a copy of the suspect gene.
We refer sardonically to the condition as "CF Lite", but this winter has been a bit heavier. Matt, who knows I have not been well, asked how I was doing yesterday. I replied:
"A LITTLE better. Yesterday I made myself walk up 3000 feet [from 6000 to 9000 feet] to the Peregrine eyrie-- kill or cure! As I suspected, after turning blue in the face I began to get relief. Mechanically heavy aerobic exercise busts through the accumulated mucus, and I stopped coughing every ten seconds for the first time in what seems like months.
"It is this damn ever- worsening single CFTR gene thing. I am frustrated because knowledge of it is still so new that you can barely find anything in the literature about it on the web-- most sites insist that single gene carriers suffer NO symptoms. I have had for at least a decade most of the non- pancreatic symptoms, and the lungs are approaching "mild" (??) but genuine CF symptoms. ( I have routinely gotten pneumonia and sinus infections every winter for a decade and they get worse). If my doc and my sister (a CF pro in Boston) didn't feed me info I'd swear I was paranoid. The CF establishment seems at times to say "if you had full blown CF you would be dead before you reached 57, so count your blessings". Fine, but I'm choking NOW.
"This winter, one cold-triggered bout of bacterial pneumonia and sinusitis (Dec?) followed by what I now think was partial recovery-- then a worse case running now for 6? weeks, and on its third round of antibiotics, second antibiotic. This is classic CF symptomology-- persistent lurking lung (and sinus and ear) bacteria becoming more and more antibiotic- resistant and hiding semi- imperviously in the mucus. [Both ears and sinus were incredibly painful as well and full of yellow green mucus as were my lungs. At least that part is good and over! And the walk uphill actually seemed to blast loose a lot of mucus I could not cough up before-- I feel a lot better.]
"At times the lung mucus has been solid enough for Beth (doc) to diagnose its thickness just by listening. I think it needs mechanical breakup but insurance won't cover formal CF treatments for single-copy CFTR cases. My climbing yesterday had some of this effect, but sleeplessness and lack of oxygen doesn't exactly fuel the energy for it! And the crap in my sinuses doesn't help breathing either.
"I am going to improvise a "seawater nebulizer" to attempt to copy the effect of a new CF treatment they are trying, but for free. (What I really need is one of those big nebulizers they use for Gyrs with Asper [Gyrfalcons, which are from the Arctic, get Aspergillosis fumigatus, a fungal lung infection-- as do true CF sufferers], but those COST!)
"It would be nice to breathe freely."
The Wiki article on the gene and the one on CF are excellent, but say nothing of single gene effects.
The second has a couple of good paragraphs on how heterozygotic copies of bad genes can confer evolutionary advantages (I told you I was going somewhere with this).
"The ΔF508 mutation is estimated to be up to 52,000 years old.[54] Numerous hypotheses have been advanced as to why such a lethal mutation has persisted and spread in the human population. Other common autosomal recessive diseases such as sickle cell anemia have been found to protect carriers from other diseases, a concept known as heterozygote advantage. With the discovery that cholera toxin requires normal host CFTR proteins to function properly, it was hypothesized that carriers of mutant CFTR genes benefited from resistance to cholera and other causes of diarrhea.[55] Further studies have not confirmed this hypothesis.[56][57]
"Normal CFTR proteins are also essential for the entry of Salmonella typhi into cells,[58] suggesting that carriers of mutant CFTR genes might be resistant to typhoid fever. No in vivo study has yet confirmed this. In both cases, the low level of cystic fibrosis outside of Europe, in places where both cholera and typhoid fever are endemic, is not immediately explicable.
"It has also been hypothesized that the prevalence of CF in Europe might be connected with the development of cattle domestication. In this hypothesis, carriers of a single mutant CFTR chromosome had some protection from diarrhea caused by lactose intolerance, prior to the appearance of the mutations that created lactose tolerance.[59]"
See also the book Survival of the Sickest by Sharon Moalem, which is about the whole paradoxical subject of bad gene evolution and persistence.
But that is why I have been absent-- I have been sick for a while and just got worn out. I hasten to say that I am feeling a good bit better.
But it occurs that there is some biological and evolutionary interest in the matter as well as an excuse. WHAT I had was persistent bacterial pneumonia, a severe sinus infection, and infected ears, one on the edge (?) of an abcess. But WHY I had it may be of interest. I hope so anyway-- my writing on my malaria years back made more than one person say writers will write about anything.
You see, I have a (not very rare) genetic condition-- I carry a gene for at least one abnormal CFTR protein. Two copies cause the debilitating lifelong condition known as Cystic Fibrosis.
Until recently it was though that single gene "carriers" were perfectly healthy, and most informational websites still say so. But a few years back evidence began to mount that at least some single gene carriers begin to manifest some CF- type symptoms in their late forties and fifties. I am 57.
Around (I think) 2000 I saw a report on this in New Scientist magazine, and emailed my sister Anita, who is a health professional specializing in CF, enquiring. I was beginning to suffer from thick mucus and persistent sinus infections, and had to have nasal polyps removed. She replied with a list of symptoms. I had them all. She urged me to get tested and I found that I did indeed have a copy of the suspect gene.
We refer sardonically to the condition as "CF Lite", but this winter has been a bit heavier. Matt, who knows I have not been well, asked how I was doing yesterday. I replied:
"A LITTLE better. Yesterday I made myself walk up 3000 feet [from 6000 to 9000 feet] to the Peregrine eyrie-- kill or cure! As I suspected, after turning blue in the face I began to get relief. Mechanically heavy aerobic exercise busts through the accumulated mucus, and I stopped coughing every ten seconds for the first time in what seems like months.
"It is this damn ever- worsening single CFTR gene thing. I am frustrated because knowledge of it is still so new that you can barely find anything in the literature about it on the web-- most sites insist that single gene carriers suffer NO symptoms. I have had for at least a decade most of the non- pancreatic symptoms, and the lungs are approaching "mild" (??) but genuine CF symptoms. ( I have routinely gotten pneumonia and sinus infections every winter for a decade and they get worse). If my doc and my sister (a CF pro in Boston) didn't feed me info I'd swear I was paranoid. The CF establishment seems at times to say "if you had full blown CF you would be dead before you reached 57, so count your blessings". Fine, but I'm choking NOW.
"This winter, one cold-triggered bout of bacterial pneumonia and sinusitis (Dec?) followed by what I now think was partial recovery-- then a worse case running now for 6? weeks, and on its third round of antibiotics, second antibiotic. This is classic CF symptomology-- persistent lurking lung (and sinus and ear) bacteria becoming more and more antibiotic- resistant and hiding semi- imperviously in the mucus. [Both ears and sinus were incredibly painful as well and full of yellow green mucus as were my lungs. At least that part is good and over! And the walk uphill actually seemed to blast loose a lot of mucus I could not cough up before-- I feel a lot better.]
"At times the lung mucus has been solid enough for Beth (doc) to diagnose its thickness just by listening. I think it needs mechanical breakup but insurance won't cover formal CF treatments for single-copy CFTR cases. My climbing yesterday had some of this effect, but sleeplessness and lack of oxygen doesn't exactly fuel the energy for it! And the crap in my sinuses doesn't help breathing either.
"I am going to improvise a "seawater nebulizer" to attempt to copy the effect of a new CF treatment they are trying, but for free. (What I really need is one of those big nebulizers they use for Gyrs with Asper [Gyrfalcons, which are from the Arctic, get Aspergillosis fumigatus, a fungal lung infection-- as do true CF sufferers], but those COST!)
"It would be nice to breathe freely."
The Wiki article on the gene and the one on CF are excellent, but say nothing of single gene effects.
The second has a couple of good paragraphs on how heterozygotic copies of bad genes can confer evolutionary advantages (I told you I was going somewhere with this).
"The ΔF508 mutation is estimated to be up to 52,000 years old.[54] Numerous hypotheses have been advanced as to why such a lethal mutation has persisted and spread in the human population. Other common autosomal recessive diseases such as sickle cell anemia have been found to protect carriers from other diseases, a concept known as heterozygote advantage. With the discovery that cholera toxin requires normal host CFTR proteins to function properly, it was hypothesized that carriers of mutant CFTR genes benefited from resistance to cholera and other causes of diarrhea.[55] Further studies have not confirmed this hypothesis.[56][57]
"Normal CFTR proteins are also essential for the entry of Salmonella typhi into cells,[58] suggesting that carriers of mutant CFTR genes might be resistant to typhoid fever. No in vivo study has yet confirmed this. In both cases, the low level of cystic fibrosis outside of Europe, in places where both cholera and typhoid fever are endemic, is not immediately explicable.
"It has also been hypothesized that the prevalence of CF in Europe might be connected with the development of cattle domestication. In this hypothesis, carriers of a single mutant CFTR chromosome had some protection from diarrhea caused by lactose intolerance, prior to the appearance of the mutations that created lactose tolerance.[59]"
See also the book Survival of the Sickest by Sharon Moalem, which is about the whole paradoxical subject of bad gene evolution and persistence.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Hawk and Dog Photo
Click for larger image... A number of readers commented on this image of Rina (whippet) and Smash (Harris' hawk). It was taken earlier this year during a hunt in SE Louisiana. The photographer is Sid Seruntine, a friend of the landowner who graciously invited us to hunt his property.
In this picture, the hawk and dog have chased a bird about 35 yards and into cover, and are about to roust it from its hiding place. I can't remember if this one went down the hatch, but do recall that Rina and Smash both caught birds that day.
Over the course of this past season, these two forged a serious and deadly partnership, and something of a friendly competition too. Working together, we were able to hunt a great deal more effectively over marginal ground---something more essential every year in my dwindling stable of hawking spots.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Fertility "Rights"
I woke late this morning, failing to “spring forward” per our ludicrous, federally mandated altering of Earth’s rotation. All was dark beyond the window, a month’s progress into the present season erased literally overnight. “Ay, Lord,” might one of Wendell Berry’s creatures say, “It just ain’t natural!”
My whippet’s scheduled hysterectomy (today) was no coincidence. The plan was to put it off as long as possible, and I did.
I wanted Rina through her first heat for the sake of normal development. I’ve read, though it might be false, that a dog’s bones and joints benefit from being allowed to fully mature. She had her first heat last August, and I trust she’s a grown dog now.
I also wanted to give Rina a season’s field experience, in hopes that wholesale removal of her reproductive organs wouldn’t somehow dull her drive to hunt. I have no proof it would, but it seemed a silly risk to take so early in her career. She got her year in the field, and it was a good one. If she loses any interest in the chase at this point, I’d be shocked.
Rina’s surgery was a compromise and a concession to a number of facts of my life, the least of which happens to be Rina’s potential for breeding. This is not to say I take that potential lightly.
I spent the weekend with friends (the Coulsons, mentioned here before) who breed Harris’ hawks. They have one of mine, a favorite I would still be flying had they not been in need of him after hurricane Katrina. This will be Charlie’s second season as a breeder, and there are three of his mate’s eggs rolling now in an incubator. In a few months, the occupants of those eggs will be chasing game with abandon, imbued with their parents’ appetite and natural ability. They will be the fifth generation of hawks hand picked for those traits, and they are likely to excel.
Rina is also the product of selective breeding, and of a much longer effort. She may descend from like animals living thousands of years ago. Given the resources to search, her parentage in modern times might be traced, name by name, for two hundred years. Most recently, she is the product of husband and wife team Deborah and Maurice Bahm (Debmar Whippets), dedicated breeders of successful racing and coursing hounds.
Rina’s place in the context of the Bahms’ work, and of those who came before, is now frozen, fixed into the framework of her one life. Rina’s contribution to the breed, if any, will have to come by reputation and example. Her parents and select siblings now bear the burden of their future.
As guilty as I feel about this today, with Rina looking whipped and feeling low, I could not justify another choice. I am not a dog breeder and have no aspirations to that. I am a hunter, and Rina’s continued fertility would only inconvenience that pursuit. If someday I have time and space and rabbits enough, I might put a pair of dogs together and make a pack. But that day won’t come within the span of one whippet’s life; that much of the future I am counting on.
Until then, I trust Steve to make some more Tazis and Deborah more whippets and Tom more good Harris’ hawks. That ought to be enough to tide me over.
My whippet’s scheduled hysterectomy (today) was no coincidence. The plan was to put it off as long as possible, and I did.
I wanted Rina through her first heat for the sake of normal development. I’ve read, though it might be false, that a dog’s bones and joints benefit from being allowed to fully mature. She had her first heat last August, and I trust she’s a grown dog now.
I also wanted to give Rina a season’s field experience, in hopes that wholesale removal of her reproductive organs wouldn’t somehow dull her drive to hunt. I have no proof it would, but it seemed a silly risk to take so early in her career. She got her year in the field, and it was a good one. If she loses any interest in the chase at this point, I’d be shocked.
Rina’s surgery was a compromise and a concession to a number of facts of my life, the least of which happens to be Rina’s potential for breeding. This is not to say I take that potential lightly.
I spent the weekend with friends (the Coulsons, mentioned here before) who breed Harris’ hawks. They have one of mine, a favorite I would still be flying had they not been in need of him after hurricane Katrina. This will be Charlie’s second season as a breeder, and there are three of his mate’s eggs rolling now in an incubator. In a few months, the occupants of those eggs will be chasing game with abandon, imbued with their parents’ appetite and natural ability. They will be the fifth generation of hawks hand picked for those traits, and they are likely to excel.
Rina is also the product of selective breeding, and of a much longer effort. She may descend from like animals living thousands of years ago. Given the resources to search, her parentage in modern times might be traced, name by name, for two hundred years. Most recently, she is the product of husband and wife team Deborah and Maurice Bahm (Debmar Whippets), dedicated breeders of successful racing and coursing hounds.
Rina’s place in the context of the Bahms’ work, and of those who came before, is now frozen, fixed into the framework of her one life. Rina’s contribution to the breed, if any, will have to come by reputation and example. Her parents and select siblings now bear the burden of their future.
As guilty as I feel about this today, with Rina looking whipped and feeling low, I could not justify another choice. I am not a dog breeder and have no aspirations to that. I am a hunter, and Rina’s continued fertility would only inconvenience that pursuit. If someday I have time and space and rabbits enough, I might put a pair of dogs together and make a pack. But that day won’t come within the span of one whippet’s life; that much of the future I am counting on.
Until then, I trust Steve to make some more Tazis and Deborah more whippets and Tom more good Harris’ hawks. That ought to be enough to tide me over.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Book Review
The Eagle Falconry of Friedrich Remmler
By Martin Hollinshead
The Fernhill Press, 2006
109 pages, hardcover, b&w photos
Falconers’ debts are hard to repay. We owe our mentors for their good example, and their mentors too, back as far as you can go. We begin to return these gifts by practicing competent falconry and teaching it to others. For those like Martin Hollinshead, for whom writing about falconry seems an equal pleasure to practicing it, another method of repayment is possible.
In The last Wolf Hawker, Hollinshead adds context and commentary to his own translation of writings by Friedrich Remmler, a German falconer born in the late 1880s and perhaps the first (Western) expert on hunting with golden eagles. Readers of Hollinshead’s previous books will note their detailed coverage and vivid photos of European eagle falconry. With this latest work, Hollinshead looks back and pays respect to one who helped bring this ancient practice into the modern era.
He begins:
"In English and American falconry literature, Dr. Friedrich Wilhelm Remmler is a rather mysterious figure, mentioned in passing—usually to note his wolf hawking—then let go again, leaving the reader desperate for more. This was the Remmler of my early falconry when, with a dream of flying golden eagles, the exact where, when and how of his hawking was nothing but a series of question marks.”
Hollinshead’s search for answers might have ended there, but for a chance contact via Internet: an email from one of Remmler’s sons, Orvar, who shared numerous photos, bits of missing detail and memories of trips with his father in the field. From these sources and further research, Hollinshead built the most complete picture to date of the fascinating and influential Remmler.
The Last Wolf Hawker is primarily a biographical work, interwoven with passages from Remmler’s 1972 article Erinnerungen aus meinem Leben mit Adlern (Reminiscences from my Life with Eagles), published late in his life. Hollinshead adds much to the original text with his exhaustive research and years of personal experience flying golden eagles.
Although he could have, Hollinshead refrains from critiquing the sometimes strange and often amazing techniques of his subject. Remmler, in almost total isolation from other falconers, pioneered a system for training and hunting with eagles that he replicated successfully for decades and with dozens of birds. In this, Hollinshead respectfully lets Remmler speak for himself.
Unfortunately for students of eagle falconry, there is little direct instruction in Remmler’s writing. But his accounts of past hunts are full of detail and good prose, translated from the German with obvious care by Hollinshead. One account of a haunting island wolf hunt is particularly moving and memorable, but best left to owners of this book!
I’ll share a different passage, one showing a glimpse of falconry from another time and place than ours. Here Remmler recalls the end of a hunt in which an old military friend has managed to catch a fox with one of Remmler’s borrowed eagles. The fox appeared unexpectedly during a hunt for hare on property adjacent to land owned by Remmler’s brother:
“Soon my brother’s hounds arrived and were met enthusiastically by mine. They knew each other well due to the former sometimes coming to me on loan—a type of sharing that extended to many things and continued right up until my brother’s death.
“After the flask had done its rounds, I instructed one of the assistant falconers to blow the signal ‘Hunt Over’ and then, ‘It’s a fox.’ Against all expectations, from the far distance came a reply from my brother. Now I called for the signal ‘Assembly.’ This also informed my contact in the village of our intentions and twenty minutes later one of the sledges arrived laden with roast ptarmigan and hazel grouse, thermos flasks of hot coffee, and cognac. As a further report from my brother indicated they were quite close, we waited for his party to arrive before eating.”
Considering my own falconry, in which truck stop lunches are arranged via cell phone, Remmler’s world seems straight from a fairy tale—Herein wolves meet eagles in deep wintry woods and on ice-bound, Arctic islands. But it was real enough, and through this book, a world we can know again.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Working with large animals
I should say "larger animals," humans being large animals relative to some... just not to these.
Reid forwarded this LAT story on a California state review of SeaWorld's orca show, recently in the news for the near-drowning of a trainer by a whale during a live performance. From the story:
Working with animals large enough to casually kill you bears some risk. Nonetheless, people have been managing the feat for thousands of years, accepting and mitigating the danger through careful study, mentorship and lifetimes of practice.
Performing animals are not new, but working animals have probably been in use for much longer in hunting, agriculture, construction and warfare. Effective large animal husbandry--the care and training of horses, mules, cattle, other stock--was common knowledge among rural Americans well into the 20th century. Ask your father or your grandfather. The general ignorance of working animal relationships, their benefits and dangers, is a new trend.
We've been at this so long as a specie, it shouldn't surprise us that most children, given the chance, take fearlessly to handling and working with animals. My kids press their faces into my hawk's feathers (he preens their hair) and wrangle neighborhood dogs that would give me pause. And Reid remembers one assertive young horsewoman, his daughter Lauren:
This is the education American kids once took for granted. We learned young to behave responsibly and assertively toward animals large and small, wild and tame. Now, more often, we teach our kids simply to be afraid.
Reid asked our friend Rebecca, a professional animal trainer and consultant, for her take on the SeaWorld incident. Rebecca's answer suggests that healthy respect--not fear--and honest risk assessment are in order:
I consider this as certain pressure groups work to limit everyone's opportunity to own, train, care for and learn from animals; and as urban policy makers comply out of their own fears and lack of experience; and as fewer kids raise chickens, train horses, breed dogs, feed hogs, hunt or even visit Shamu.
Reid forwarded this LAT story on a California state review of SeaWorld's orca show, recently in the news for the near-drowning of a trainer by a whale during a live performance. From the story:
The report, released Tuesday, follows an investigation into a Nov. 29 incident in which Kasatka, a 7,000-pound, 17-foot-long female, dragged her trainer underwater in front of hundreds of horrified spectators at Shamu Stadium.
SeaWorld officials branded the report's findings "highly speculative and not supported by scientific fact" and met Thursday with the Cal/OSHA district manager to ask him to withdraw or modify the report.
Working with animals large enough to casually kill you bears some risk. Nonetheless, people have been managing the feat for thousands of years, accepting and mitigating the danger through careful study, mentorship and lifetimes of practice.
Performing animals are not new, but working animals have probably been in use for much longer in hunting, agriculture, construction and warfare. Effective large animal husbandry--the care and training of horses, mules, cattle, other stock--was common knowledge among rural Americans well into the 20th century. Ask your father or your grandfather. The general ignorance of working animal relationships, their benefits and dangers, is a new trend.
We've been at this so long as a specie, it shouldn't surprise us that most children, given the chance, take fearlessly to handling and working with animals. My kids press their faces into my hawk's feathers (he preens their hair) and wrangle neighborhood dogs that would give me pause. And Reid remembers one assertive young horsewoman, his daughter Lauren:
"I was never really exposed to the barn-side of dealing with horses until we moved to Tehachapi and started having them live in the backyard...I'll never forget the first time I saw my 12 year old, 85 pound little girl yelling at a horse, yanking on its lead, and slapping it to get it to do what she wanted. And it absolutely obeyed. Lauren never had any 'self esteem' or 'empowerment' issues. I figure if a little girl knows she can make a critter 20 times her weight do what she she wants, she understands she can control most anything else in her life."
This is the education American kids once took for granted. We learned young to behave responsibly and assertively toward animals large and small, wild and tame. Now, more often, we teach our kids simply to be afraid.
Reid asked our friend Rebecca, a professional animal trainer and consultant, for her take on the SeaWorld incident. Rebecca's answer suggests that healthy respect--not fear--and honest risk assessment are in order:
"Well, it's only a matter of time before a large carnivore in a show setting kills someone or at least attempts to. That is why most zoos are no longer 'free contact' in dealing with large animals. I am quite certain that some of the birds I've worked with would have killed me if they had just only been big enough....This is why I don't work with animals that I couldn't take in a fair fight."I can't help but to keep bringing this post around to some larger theme. Maybe it's a stretch. But there is a clear benefit and present need in this country for honest risk assessment, for knowing when to be humble and when assertive. For knowing who you can take in a fight. Our schools don't teach these lessons. We learn them at home, first and as a matter of course with our animals.
But, she adds, "If animal trainers want to take the risk I say, 'Viva le Natural Selection!'"
I consider this as certain pressure groups work to limit everyone's opportunity to own, train, care for and learn from animals; and as urban policy makers comply out of their own fears and lack of experience; and as fewer kids raise chickens, train horses, breed dogs, feed hogs, hunt or even visit Shamu.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
More Zumbo
My first thought: "I can't afford to comment here lest Steve lose points by association with the likes of me."
Second thought: "Steve is in no danger of losing credibility in the gun club."
Third thought: "Maybe this Zumbo guy had the same thought?"
I don't hunt with a gun. I own two: both .22s (a rifle and a pistol); both hand-me-downs from great-grandfather and grandfather, respectively. I killed a squirrel with the rifle once. That is the extent of my firearms experience.
Yet I hunt about 90 days a season (with hawk and dog), and I have opinions about it.
I have to say, I dislike the idea of a military gun as a hunting weapon. Why is that so out of line? Hunting is not war. War has a very specific purpose and needs its own tools. If you face multiple human attackers, each with his own weapon, you need the right tool for that. Thankfully, these are available. (...And if there is anyone of any political stripe who claims there is no legitimate need for effective personal defense from multiple armed attackers, I refer you to any homeowner in post-Katrina New Orleans. Obviously, other examples are available.)
And yet, again, hunting is not warfare. Hunting is accused of being a lot of different evils, but 'a metaphor for war' is one I always hated (notwithstanding Harry McElroy's "war on quail," which tickles me). No one who works that particular angle has ever been hunting, or at least, hunting for real. The lampooning of hunters as square-jawed paramilitaries makes a good cartoon, but it bears little similarity to actual people who hunt. I'll submit my own weak jaw (and cammo-free wardrobe) as evidence.
If Mr. Zumbo, in a moment of probably unwise light speed communication, expressed his opinion that military weapons seem out of place on a hunt, he did nothing more than state what many hunters would find obvious. Why cannot an adult at (...luckily) retirement age not make this perfectly defensible observation?
Well, as I said, I don't hunt with a gun. So I was surprised by the reaction Zumbo received. But my question stands: Why should one man's opinion about proper hunting tools be interpreted to say anything about his views on tools of war or self defense? For all we know (and this seems the case), Zumbo supports everyone's right to own whatever sort of gun they want.
He was stating, essentially, an artistic opinion. Right?
I sent Steve an email with this question. Steve knows I am ignorant of guns and gun issues generally, and he is a natural teacher. He wrote back:
"It's definitional. There are some guns based on the American military 'platform' that are pure, high- tech, rather expensive hunter's guns (AR varmint-style heavy-barreled .223's-- things poor ignorant Zumbo didn't know existed). There also are poor people all over the world who use SKS's (old Soviet rifles from before the AK, less "machine gun" looking) because they are cheap and the widely available old 7.63 X 39 cartridge is a passable deer round (similar ballistics to .30- 30). I own one myself as a backup to my pretty classic rifles-- and 1000 rounds of cheap ammo. Several of the Russian nomad photo- anthropology books show tribal folks with them (an added draw for me)
Yukaghir hunter with SKS in the Siberian taiga (from The Peoples of the Great North)
Steve's Russian SKS-- a useful tool, like the axe...
Second thought: "Steve is in no danger of losing credibility in the gun club."
Third thought: "Maybe this Zumbo guy had the same thought?"
I don't hunt with a gun. I own two: both .22s (a rifle and a pistol); both hand-me-downs from great-grandfather and grandfather, respectively. I killed a squirrel with the rifle once. That is the extent of my firearms experience.
Yet I hunt about 90 days a season (with hawk and dog), and I have opinions about it.
I have to say, I dislike the idea of a military gun as a hunting weapon. Why is that so out of line? Hunting is not war. War has a very specific purpose and needs its own tools. If you face multiple human attackers, each with his own weapon, you need the right tool for that. Thankfully, these are available. (...And if there is anyone of any political stripe who claims there is no legitimate need for effective personal defense from multiple armed attackers, I refer you to any homeowner in post-Katrina New Orleans. Obviously, other examples are available.)
And yet, again, hunting is not warfare. Hunting is accused of being a lot of different evils, but 'a metaphor for war' is one I always hated (notwithstanding Harry McElroy's "war on quail," which tickles me). No one who works that particular angle has ever been hunting, or at least, hunting for real. The lampooning of hunters as square-jawed paramilitaries makes a good cartoon, but it bears little similarity to actual people who hunt. I'll submit my own weak jaw (and cammo-free wardrobe) as evidence.
If Mr. Zumbo, in a moment of probably unwise light speed communication, expressed his opinion that military weapons seem out of place on a hunt, he did nothing more than state what many hunters would find obvious. Why cannot an adult at (...luckily) retirement age not make this perfectly defensible observation?
Well, as I said, I don't hunt with a gun. So I was surprised by the reaction Zumbo received. But my question stands: Why should one man's opinion about proper hunting tools be interpreted to say anything about his views on tools of war or self defense? For all we know (and this seems the case), Zumbo supports everyone's right to own whatever sort of gun they want.
He was stating, essentially, an artistic opinion. Right?
I sent Steve an email with this question. Steve knows I am ignorant of guns and gun issues generally, and he is a natural teacher. He wrote back:
"It's definitional. There are some guns based on the American military 'platform' that are pure, high- tech, rather expensive hunter's guns (AR varmint-style heavy-barreled .223's-- things poor ignorant Zumbo didn't know existed). There also are poor people all over the world who use SKS's (old Soviet rifles from before the AK, less "machine gun" looking) because they are cheap and the widely available old 7.63 X 39 cartridge is a passable deer round (similar ballistics to .30- 30). I own one myself as a backup to my pretty classic rifles-- and 1000 rounds of cheap ammo. Several of the Russian nomad photo- anthropology books show tribal folks with them (an added draw for me
"The main thing that antis hate is that they are 'semiauto', a new swear word (heard it recently on Cold Case-- Dad's eevil semiautos made his kid a Columbine- style spree killer)-- which means simply that you don't work a bolt between shots. So?? THEY ARE NOT MACHINE GUNS.
"SOME mil-spec semiautos are not accurate-- mil. configuration AK's for instance. Therefore, nobody hunts with them. Even in that case, Saiga of Russia made a reasonable hunting- style version.
"Antis don't like these (so- called) 'assault rifles' because they look scary. Snob hunters because they are 'Non-U' (look it up) and CHEAP. Poor people can afford them, people 'not like us'. It is a non-issue, with most people (as usual) uninformed and talking past each other."
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Dog Pics
Just for fun.
A new one of granddog Nemrah, from Lash and Ky, courtesy Monica Stoner east of the mountains....
A new one of granddog Nemrah, from Lash and Ky, courtesy Monica Stoner east of the mountains....
And an amazing pic of coursing borzois in Cal from the always amazing camera of Herb Wells.
Bill Wise, 1938- 2007
My friend (and a personal hero) Bill Wise, of Harrington Delaware, died on the 24th of February. I wrote about him a bit here.
After breaking his neck in a surfing accident in 1965 he went on to live a life more adventurous than that of most people who have no problems. He never lost his sense of humor or his courage. He will be missed, not only by Rosalie and his kids but be all his many friends and fans. He was a constant inspiration and a reminder that we should live life to the fullest, as he did.
Below is his official obit.
WILLIAM A. “BILL” WISE
BORN 9/22/38
Attended the University of Delaware. Achieved the rank of Specialist E-5 in the Delaware National Guard. Was employed by the U.S. Postal Service in Harrington. With Partner established one of the first surfboard shops on the East Coast in 1962 called The Eastern Surfer located in Harrington DE and Ocean City, MD and later in Rehoboth Beach, DE. Was instrumental with his wife in operating Likewise Bikini Shops in Ocean City, MD that fit and manufactured bathing suits of Hawaiian fabrics for their customers.
Mr. Wise was a lifelong sportsman. He was a charter member of the Diamond State Skin divers, a spear fishing and archeological dive group. He passionately participated in outdoor activities, especially hunting and fishing. A surfing accident in 1965 severely paralyzed him, wheelchair bound for the rest of his life. Mr. Wise was a member of the Delaware Maryland Paralyzed Veterans Association for more than 25 years. From 1979 through 1984 Mr. Wise served as President of the Board of Trustees of the Delaware Trapshooting Hall of Fame, and was a respected sporting firearms historian.
A writer and photographer, Mr. Wise’s work appeared in international periodicals, books and newspapers. He wrote weekly columns for the Milford (DE) Chronicle and The Beachcomber papers in Delaware and Maryland.
In 1996 Mr. Wise was inducted in the East Coast Surfing Legends Hall of Fame for his lifetime contributions to the sport of surfing. He was widely known in international sporting circles.
With a zest for life he traveled widely, flew gliders, swam with dolphins, and observed nature from a unique perspective.
Mr. Wise was preceded in death by his parents, Byron E. and Helen McKenna Wise.
He is survived by his wife Rosalie T., sons and spouses, Ben E. and Connie of Chestertown, MD, J. Eric and Linda K. of rural Henderson MD, Todd A. and Shelly C. and Christi and Ken Boots of Andrewville, DE, sisters, Luanne Wise of Slaughter Beach, DE and Lora McKenna of Philadelphia, PA. Nine Grandchildren; Parker, Grayson, Erika, Zachary, Jessica and Julia Wise, Harbour, Londin, and Kaden Boots.
Family and Friends may call from 10 a.m. to Noon Tuesday, February 27; with prayer service following at Melvin Funeral Home located at 15522 S. DuPont Highway, Harrington, DE 19952. www.melvinfuneralhome.com
Burial will be private at Hollywood Cemetery.
In lieu of flowers, the family suggests memorial contributions to Hunt of a Lifetime.
(6297 Buffalo Road
Harborcreek, PA 16421)
After breaking his neck in a surfing accident in 1965 he went on to live a life more adventurous than that of most people who have no problems. He never lost his sense of humor or his courage. He will be missed, not only by Rosalie and his kids but be all his many friends and fans. He was a constant inspiration and a reminder that we should live life to the fullest, as he did.
Below is his official obit.
WILLIAM A. “BILL” WISE
BORN 9/22/38
Attended the University of Delaware. Achieved the rank of Specialist E-5 in the Delaware National Guard. Was employed by the U.S. Postal Service in Harrington. With Partner established one of the first surfboard shops on the East Coast in 1962 called The Eastern Surfer located in Harrington DE and Ocean City, MD and later in Rehoboth Beach, DE. Was instrumental with his wife in operating Likewise Bikini Shops in Ocean City, MD that fit and manufactured bathing suits of Hawaiian fabrics for their customers.
Mr. Wise was a lifelong sportsman. He was a charter member of the Diamond State Skin divers, a spear fishing and archeological dive group. He passionately participated in outdoor activities, especially hunting and fishing. A surfing accident in 1965 severely paralyzed him, wheelchair bound for the rest of his life. Mr. Wise was a member of the Delaware Maryland Paralyzed Veterans Association for more than 25 years. From 1979 through 1984 Mr. Wise served as President of the Board of Trustees of the Delaware Trapshooting Hall of Fame, and was a respected sporting firearms historian.
A writer and photographer, Mr. Wise’s work appeared in international periodicals, books and newspapers. He wrote weekly columns for the Milford (DE) Chronicle and The Beachcomber papers in Delaware and Maryland.
In 1996 Mr. Wise was inducted in the East Coast Surfing Legends Hall of Fame for his lifetime contributions to the sport of surfing. He was widely known in international sporting circles.
With a zest for life he traveled widely, flew gliders, swam with dolphins, and observed nature from a unique perspective.
Mr. Wise was preceded in death by his parents, Byron E. and Helen McKenna Wise.
He is survived by his wife Rosalie T., sons and spouses, Ben E. and Connie of Chestertown, MD, J. Eric and Linda K. of rural Henderson MD, Todd A. and Shelly C. and Christi and Ken Boots of Andrewville, DE, sisters, Luanne Wise of Slaughter Beach, DE and Lora McKenna of Philadelphia, PA. Nine Grandchildren; Parker, Grayson, Erika, Zachary, Jessica and Julia Wise, Harbour, Londin, and Kaden Boots.
Family and Friends may call from 10 a.m. to Noon Tuesday, February 27; with prayer service following at Melvin Funeral Home located at 15522 S. DuPont Highway, Harrington, DE 19952. www.melvinfuneralhome.com
Burial will be private at Hollywood Cemetery.
In lieu of flowers, the family suggests memorial contributions to Hunt of a Lifetime.
(6297 Buffalo Road
Harborcreek, PA 16421)
Friday, February 23, 2007
The Zumbo Flap
First, read Tam here for the background:
“On Friday evening, a gunwriter who was apparently tired of his 42-year career put his word processor in his mouth and pulled the trigger.”
Old hunting writer Jim Zumbo called semiauto rifles “terrorist guns”, and said they should be banned.
Dumb, and ignorant. As anyone who knows me knows, I disagree with Zumbo.
I do not support the 1994 "Assault" weapons ban. I am an NRA Life member. I own a Russki SKS.
BUT.
In Gun Nut, his old friend Dave Petzal, WHILE DISAGREEING, posted a limited defense of his old friend. Last I looked, there were over 400 comments, most insulting. Here is a sample.
"I am honestly starting to believe that a lot of these hick hunter types are actually socialists who found a copy of Mao and would like to see America fade into socialist aristocracy."
["Hick socialist aristocrat" may be the most unlikely and oxymoronic combination of words I have ever seen.]
"FUDD [ie, hunter] ignorance is a DANGEROUS thing to firearm ownership."
WTF???
I agree with the commentators below.
"1. The last time I was around anything this vicious, my mother-in-law was going after the last beer at my wedding reception.
2. We don't need enemies, we got each other.
3. Now I understand the Salem Witch Trials.
4. Could some one arrange a truce before the NRA convention in April? I have enough stress in my life."
And:
(On Petzal’s affection for .50 caliber Barrets): "So here's Petzal, espousing something I disagreed with completely. I thought he was dead wrong. I thought it was a dangerous idea, treasonous even, a slap to the very core values of fair chase. I even tried to cajole him into debating it on his blog.
"What I didn't do was suggest he commit suicide, or wish him a painful death, or post his address and phone number with the implication that someone should pay him a visit. I didn't gleefully participate in the destruction of his livelihood and then dance on the smoking embers of what used to be his life while backslapping and high-fiving the rest of the mob.
"Nope, despite the fact that I thought on this particular subject his head was clearly ensconsed way up his ass, I spoke my piece and moved on.
"I agreed to disagree without threat of legal action or violence which is apparently a disappearing art in this viral age. Now it seems no one is satisfied with less than the complete silencing and utter destruction of any opposing views.
"The fanatics among us (and what else can you call them?) have taken what should have been just a few unthinking, destined-to-be-forgotten remarks from an admittedly ill-informed and apparently less-than-tactful hunting writer in the perigee of his career and turned them into some kind of twisted pogrom that has attracted the very kind of attention from the antis it never would have done...if all you vociferous dumbasses out there had just shrugged it off and gone on, like sane, rational people do."
And:
"This will not end well."
Yes, I AM asking for civility.
John Derbyshire comments here,here, and here.
The money quote is from one of Derb’s readers: “One thing gun owners have learned the hard way is we got to stick together. The antigunners want to separate the hunters, from the pistol guys, from the Military rifle type guys-- divide and conquer.”
Amen. We had best learn soon.
“On Friday evening, a gunwriter who was apparently tired of his 42-year career put his word processor in his mouth and pulled the trigger.”
Old hunting writer Jim Zumbo called semiauto rifles “terrorist guns”, and said they should be banned.
Dumb, and ignorant. As anyone who knows me knows, I disagree with Zumbo.
I do not support the 1994 "Assault" weapons ban. I am an NRA Life member. I own a Russki SKS.
BUT.
In Gun Nut, his old friend Dave Petzal, WHILE DISAGREEING, posted a limited defense of his old friend. Last I looked, there were over 400 comments, most insulting. Here is a sample.
"I am honestly starting to believe that a lot of these hick hunter types are actually socialists who found a copy of Mao and would like to see America fade into socialist aristocracy."
["Hick socialist aristocrat" may be the most unlikely and oxymoronic combination of words I have ever seen.]
"FUDD [ie, hunter] ignorance is a DANGEROUS thing to firearm ownership."
WTF???
I agree with the commentators below.
"1. The last time I was around anything this vicious, my mother-in-law was going after the last beer at my wedding reception.
2. We don't need enemies, we got each other.
3. Now I understand the Salem Witch Trials.
4. Could some one arrange a truce before the NRA convention in April? I have enough stress in my life."
And:
(On Petzal’s affection for .50 caliber Barrets): "So here's Petzal, espousing something I disagreed with completely. I thought he was dead wrong. I thought it was a dangerous idea, treasonous even, a slap to the very core values of fair chase. I even tried to cajole him into debating it on his blog.
"What I didn't do was suggest he commit suicide, or wish him a painful death, or post his address and phone number with the implication that someone should pay him a visit. I didn't gleefully participate in the destruction of his livelihood and then dance on the smoking embers of what used to be his life while backslapping and high-fiving the rest of the mob.
"Nope, despite the fact that I thought on this particular subject his head was clearly ensconsed way up his ass, I spoke my piece and moved on.
"I agreed to disagree without threat of legal action or violence which is apparently a disappearing art in this viral age. Now it seems no one is satisfied with less than the complete silencing and utter destruction of any opposing views.
"The fanatics among us (and what else can you call them?) have taken what should have been just a few unthinking, destined-to-be-forgotten remarks from an admittedly ill-informed and apparently less-than-tactful hunting writer in the perigee of his career and turned them into some kind of twisted pogrom that has attracted the very kind of attention from the antis it never would have done...if all you vociferous dumbasses out there had just shrugged it off and gone on, like sane, rational people do."
And:
"This will not end well."
Yes, I AM asking for civility.
John Derbyshire comments here,here, and here.
The money quote is from one of Derb’s readers: “One thing gun owners have learned the hard way is we got to stick together. The antigunners want to separate the hunters, from the pistol guys, from the Military rifle type guys-- divide and conquer.”
Amen. We had best learn soon.
Doom and Gloom
American this time, and maybe too slight and early to blog. But I was reading James Lileks this morning and came to a mention of what Minneapolis grade school kids would like for us all.
"...the other day when I went to read a book in her [his daughter's] class I noted the exhibit outside the classroom. The theme: “If I Were President.” It’s an interesting exercise; you can learn a lot about a kid if you give them Ultimate Power. Most of them wanted peace and no war and no hurting animals, and at least a third banned smoking."
It IS the times-- I guarantee my (and my classmates) responses would have been different in the Fifties.
I sort of want to go to live in Kazakhstan. And smoke. Camels. Now.
"...the other day when I went to read a book in her [his daughter's] class I noted the exhibit outside the classroom. The theme: “If I Were President.” It’s an interesting exercise; you can learn a lot about a kid if you give them Ultimate Power. Most of them wanted peace and no war and no hurting animals, and at least a third banned smoking."
It IS the times-- I guarantee my (and my classmates) responses would have been different in the Fifties.
I sort of want to go to live in Kazakhstan. And smoke. Camels. Now.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Dad's B -17
Reid's post below on the weather vane reminded me of a sketch he and Matt and other visitors have seen in my library.
In 1941 my father was a scholarship student at the Museum School of Fine Arts in Boston. A year later he was a first lieutenant in the Army Air Corps, a bombardier and navigator in a B17 flying over Germany. I believe he flew 26 missions.
Here is what you get when an art student flies bombers:
Update: my brother in law, who has researched my father's military career, says:
"Joe actually flew 34 missions-- 3 Aug, 44 to 11 Dec, 44-- and lived to tell about it!"
In 1941 my father was a scholarship student at the Museum School of Fine Arts in Boston. A year later he was a first lieutenant in the Army Air Corps, a bombardier and navigator in a B17 flying over Germany. I believe he flew 26 missions.
Here is what you get when an art student flies bombers:
And here is the young lieutenant himself:
Update: my brother in law, who has researched my father's military career, says:
"Joe actually flew 34 missions-- 3 Aug, 44 to 11 Dec, 44-- and lived to tell about it!"
Reid Moving Update
I told you all back in mid-December that Connie and I are moving to Denver and at that time gave our ETA as sometime in January. We made a house hunting trip in December but couldn't come up with anything. In the subsequent weeks our attempts to continue looking were interrupted by the holidays, the pressure of some work assignments, and a series of extraordinarily bad storms in Colorado (ask Chas Clifton about them!).
We finally returned to Denver the first week of this month and have a contract on a house that we like. We are due to close on the house March 9. We are scheduled to pack and leave Santa Barbara on March 14.
As our office is at the south end of town (in the Denver Technological Center for those who know) we had been looking in the southeastern area. Our house is just south of the town of Parker. It's on the high plains (6,270 ft.) and to my delight (not so much Connie's) it's located just east of a stream named Moonshine Gulch. The picture above is a view of Pike's Peak from the new house.
We finally returned to Denver the first week of this month and have a contract on a house that we like. We are due to close on the house March 9. We are scheduled to pack and leave Santa Barbara on March 14.
As our office is at the south end of town (in the Denver Technological Center for those who know) we had been looking in the southeastern area. Our house is just south of the town of Parker. It's on the high plains (6,270 ft.) and to my delight (not so much Connie's) it's located just east of a stream named Moonshine Gulch. The picture above is a view of Pike's Peak from the new house.
Pluvialis Abroad (Again)
Pluvialis is at large again in Central Asia. She blogs on the road from Tashkent and tells us she's on her way to Khiva. Pluvi is giving many of us a bad case of travel envy.
A Parrot for Life
Congratulations to Rebecca O'Connor who has a new book out on raising and training parrots, "A Parrot for Life." Get your autographed copies here.
Weather Vane
While house hunting in Colorado a couple of weeks ago, I saw this unique weather vane on a barn outside of the town of Parker.
A very realistic model of a B-17!Tool Making Chimpanzees
We've know for quite a long while that chimpanzees use expedient tools - rocks to crack open things and twigs to pull termites out of mounds. But a new report on chimps in Senegal takes this to a whole new level.
Female chimps there have been observed making spears and using them to hunt bush babies. From the story:
"The chimps choose a branch, strip it of leaves and twigs, trim it down to a stable size and then chew the ends to a point. Then they use it to stab into holes where bush babies might be sleeping."
Males never use the spears, only females and juvenile chimps.
"The observation that individuals hunting with tools include females and immature chimpanzees suggests that we should rethink traditional explanations for the evolution of such behavior in our own lineage ........................The multiple steps taken by Fongoli chimpanzees in making tools to dispatch mammalian prey involve the kind of foresight and intellectual complexity that most likely typified early human relatives."
Fascinating stuff and I can't wait to read what feminist writers will make of this.
Female chimps there have been observed making spears and using them to hunt bush babies. From the story:
"The chimps choose a branch, strip it of leaves and twigs, trim it down to a stable size and then chew the ends to a point. Then they use it to stab into holes where bush babies might be sleeping."
Males never use the spears, only females and juvenile chimps.
"The observation that individuals hunting with tools include females and immature chimpanzees suggests that we should rethink traditional explanations for the evolution of such behavior in our own lineage ........................The multiple steps taken by Fongoli chimpanzees in making tools to dispatch mammalian prey involve the kind of foresight and intellectual complexity that most likely typified early human relatives."
Fascinating stuff and I can't wait to read what feminist writers will make of this.
Neanderthal Doom
According to this piece in the BBC News, some late Neanderthalers were wiped out by a cold snap even they could not survive:
"...a climate downturn may have caused a drought, placing pressure on the last surviving Neanderthals by reducing their supplies of fresh water and killing off the animals they hunted."
(Snip)
"These creatures (Homo neanderthalensis) had survived in local pockets during previous Ice Ages, bouncing back when conditions improved. But the last one appears to have been characterised by several rapid and severe changes in climate which hit a peak 30,000 years ago.
"Southern Iberia appears to have been sheltered from the worst of these. But about 24,000 years ago, conditions did deteriorate there.
"This event was the most severe the region had seen for 250,000 years, report Clive Finlayson, from the Gibraltar Museum; Francisco Jimenez-Espejo, from the University of Granada, Spain; and colleagues.
" "It looks pretty severe and also quite short," Professor Finlayson told BBC News.
" "Things like olive trees and oak trees that are still with us today managed to ride it out. But a very fragmented, stressed population of Neanderthals - and perhaps other elements of the fauna - did not."
(Snip)
"But a rare combination of freezing polar air blowing down the Rhone valley and Saharan air blowing north seems to have helped cool this part of the Mediterranean Sea, contributing to the severe conditions."
HT Paleoblog. (And while you are there, check out the report of possible effects of early modern humans on cave bear populations during the same era. Those were "Interesting Times").
"...a climate downturn may have caused a drought, placing pressure on the last surviving Neanderthals by reducing their supplies of fresh water and killing off the animals they hunted."
(Snip)
"These creatures (Homo neanderthalensis) had survived in local pockets during previous Ice Ages, bouncing back when conditions improved. But the last one appears to have been characterised by several rapid and severe changes in climate which hit a peak 30,000 years ago.
"Southern Iberia appears to have been sheltered from the worst of these. But about 24,000 years ago, conditions did deteriorate there.
"This event was the most severe the region had seen for 250,000 years, report Clive Finlayson, from the Gibraltar Museum; Francisco Jimenez-Espejo, from the University of Granada, Spain; and colleagues.
" "It looks pretty severe and also quite short," Professor Finlayson told BBC News.
" "Things like olive trees and oak trees that are still with us today managed to ride it out. But a very fragmented, stressed population of Neanderthals - and perhaps other elements of the fauna - did not."
(Snip)
"But a rare combination of freezing polar air blowing down the Rhone valley and Saharan air blowing north seems to have helped cool this part of the Mediterranean Sea, contributing to the severe conditions."
HT Paleoblog. (And while you are there, check out the report of possible effects of early modern humans on cave bear populations during the same era. Those were "Interesting Times").
Not a Vegetarian
The ever- carnivorous John McLoughlin sends a quote, which he attributes to one Jethro Trogo:
"If ever the world will be ruled
by vegetables, I can truthfully say,
"I never ate your kind willingly."
"If ever the world will be ruled
by vegetables, I can truthfully say,
"I never ate your kind willingly."
Kazakhs respond to Borat
According to the Moscow Times (link may now be behind firewall), Kazakhstan has decided to counter Borat with a bit of reality.
"The Kazakh ambassador has embarked on a tour of universities around the United States to counter the outlandish portrayal of his home country in the movie "Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan."
"The fictional character played in the popular satirical movie by comic Sacha Baron Cohen portrays Kazakhs as addicted to horse urine, fond of shooting dogs, and viewing incest as a respectable hobby...
" 'There were a lot of funny things in it, but it has nothing to do with the real Kazakhstan,' Kanat Saudabayev, the country's ambassador to the United States and Canada, told students at Yale University this week.
"Kazakhstan has placed ads in U.S. newspapers and on television to tout its rapid economic growth and immense oil reserves, describing a country of cash machines, sushi bars and high-tech conference centers.
"Kazakhstan, which has a population of 16 million but is the world's ninth-largest country by area, recently led an effort to proclaim the Central Asian region a nuclear-free zone.
"The ambassador portrayed the diverse country as a model in many ways, saying it voluntarily gave up nuclear weapons, saves its cash from oil for the future, is working to diversify its economy and wants to enact more democratic reforms. The country survived and has thrived when many experts predicted it would fail, Saudabayev said."
All true-- though I suspect people will continue to prefer Borat. Sigh.
"The Kazakh ambassador has embarked on a tour of universities around the United States to counter the outlandish portrayal of his home country in the movie "Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan."
"The fictional character played in the popular satirical movie by comic Sacha Baron Cohen portrays Kazakhs as addicted to horse urine, fond of shooting dogs, and viewing incest as a respectable hobby...
" 'There were a lot of funny things in it, but it has nothing to do with the real Kazakhstan,' Kanat Saudabayev, the country's ambassador to the United States and Canada, told students at Yale University this week.
"Kazakhstan has placed ads in U.S. newspapers and on television to tout its rapid economic growth and immense oil reserves, describing a country of cash machines, sushi bars and high-tech conference centers.
"Kazakhstan, which has a population of 16 million but is the world's ninth-largest country by area, recently led an effort to proclaim the Central Asian region a nuclear-free zone.
"The ambassador portrayed the diverse country as a model in many ways, saying it voluntarily gave up nuclear weapons, saves its cash from oil for the future, is working to diversify its economy and wants to enact more democratic reforms. The country survived and has thrived when many experts predicted it would fail, Saudabayev said."
All true-- though I suspect people will continue to prefer Borat. Sigh.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
New posts
Series of new posts from Steve below. Some of these I've had to add photos to (Steve's connection is positively Magdalenian) so appear out of order. Please scroll down a bit for the first post.
Best,
Matt
Best,
Matt
More Doggie Descendants..
AKA "granddogs"-- the latest in a series.
These are of Dutch Salmon's lurcher girl "Mona" from Plum and Lash, who caught 30 hares in her first year-- and who would be sterile (and illegal to breed) under the new law mentioned below.
Photos courtesy Dan Gauss.
These are of Dutch Salmon's lurcher girl "Mona" from Plum and Lash, who caught 30 hares in her first year-- and who would be sterile (and illegal to breed) under the new law mentioned below.
Photos courtesy Dan Gauss.
Another Mauser
I posted a while back on a beautiful classic Mauser. Unfortunately, it had hidden problems and ultimately it went back.
I kept my eyes open and eventually found another 7mm. Mauser, this one a fifties- style custom gun on a Czech military action, with a Belgian Fabrique National sporter barrel, for half the already cheap price of the other.
It is of vintage 50's styling-- the Alpha E says I should hard- chrome it and get a sling with a pic of late- period Elvis.(He actually advised me to buy it-- Jonathan is no cheap snob).
But you know what? I shot 1 1/2 inch groups at 100 yards with it right out of the box, and its worksmanship is impeccable. I'm keeping it.
I could modify it to be more "classic" in style, but Lib reminds me how much it will irritate yuppie gun snobs...
I kept my eyes open and eventually found another 7mm. Mauser, this one a fifties- style custom gun on a Czech military action, with a Belgian Fabrique National sporter barrel, for half the already cheap price of the other.
It is of vintage 50's styling-- the Alpha E says I should hard- chrome it and get a sling with a pic of late- period Elvis.(He actually advised me to buy it-- Jonathan is no cheap snob).
But you know what? I shot 1 1/2 inch groups at 100 yards with it right out of the box, and its worksmanship is impeccable. I'm keeping it.
I could modify it to be more "classic" in style, but Lib reminds me how much it will irritate yuppie gun snobs...
More Pigeons-- Flight Art
Artist and pigeon fancier Timothy Hume of of the Lord of the Isles Loft and Dovecote Gallery on Salt Springs Island in BC has been collaborating with another artist, Annie Dunning, to create more flying "Sky Art". They really need a website of their own to do it justice, but basically they have been making music flying Timothy's homers with homemade Chinese- style pigeon flutes and also cameras to see what the birds see. Here are some samples.
Timothy & Annie with flute on pigeon:
Timothy & Annie with flute on pigeon:
White pigeon with flute:
Loft From Air (shot from pigeon-mounted camera):
Photo art:
Update. Timothy says:
"Thanks for the post.
We will make a site eventually.
It's always just the time thing.
I'd be happy to answer any questions if peculiar wishes to write."
Why Pigeons?
Another guest post, this one by semi- regular commentator Jake Sewall.
The "Why" of the Pigeon
Sometime in the not-too-distant past Steve made a comment about looking at racing pigeon mags periodically and not finding what it was that initially attracted him to pigeon racing. Which, if you look at the way it is practiced now, does indeed seem to be very far from the way that we seem to enjoy our pigeons. But that comment got me thinking, along with the way I have approached birds recently, about what exactly it was that attracted me to pigeon racing. I came to some rather interesting conclusions. The most counterintuitive of them being that I'm not actually a huge fan of watching pigeons fly. Maybe that is because racing pigeons aren't the most aerially interesting birds. But mostly I think it is just personality. Don't get me wrong, I love the sight of a team up there in the blue, wings twinkling. But I don't have the attention span, or feel like I should be doing other things, to just sit and watch birds fly for an hour or more. But I do enjoy "flying" birds -- sit down show pigeons, other than as interesting gene pools, don't grab me very much.
All striking me as rather odd until I thought about *how* I got into birds, not just pigeons, but birds period. I was 9 and I wanted a falcon something fierce. There was a book in our school library. A story. About a girl whose family moved to a rundown country house for the summer. When they moved in she found a young kestrel in an attic room and spent her summer raising, training, and hunting the little falcon. I was captivated. Not so much by the hunting (grasshoppers didn't seem like that exciting a prey) but by the concept. The ability to have, hold, train a bird and release it to fly, and then return. I read everything I could get my hands on (which amounted to snippets in 3 or 4 books) on falconry. And from that great children's book "My Side of the Mountain" (also responsible for a proliferation of woodland shelters, deadfall traps, and rabbit snares behind our house) I learned to tie a jess knot. I didn't have anything to apply them to. But a local "resource center" (lots of "junk" that could be recycled for other uses) provided dozens of leather straps and jesses proliferated in the household (a couple of years later I would try to fit one of my first pigeons with a pair with spectacularly unsuccessful results). What I wanted was a falcon. Just a Kestrel, but a pint-sized lord of the sky nevertheless. What I seized upon were finches (Zebra) as some friends had a few and they were lively little birds. By the time my Quaker Cornmeal container with the slit in the lid and "Finch Savings" on the side was full (my grandmother would pay a quarter for shoveling her driveway, raking leaves etc. so mounting up $15 took some time), the intended expenditure had converted to a parakeet which materialized as a green female (I believe) named "Tiercel" and I had my "falcon".
I carefully started training Tiercel (whose legs proved too fragile for jesses) by clipping her wings as some books suggested. My training was a flop. She wouldn't ride around on me. And clipping her wings at a young age ended up rendering her almost flightless (she was rather plump and I assume that her wing muscles never had the opportunity to develop enough to support her body weight) such that when she was released she would "fly" about just off the ground, sweeping the floor with her tail. Needless to say, my interest in cage birds quickly waned though the parakeets (my sister had a companion bird name "Jr. Blue" who was an aerial menace. An agile flier with a burning desire for escape, a sharp beak, and a strong dislike of humans) lingered for years.
At this point I discovered racing pigeons and finally I had my lords of the air. Birds that I knew by name (or at least number), that I trained, that gazed at me regally out of brilliant eyes and swept the skies each morning only to return punctually and trap on command. And that, for me, is the "why" of the pigeon. I wanted a bird that I could train and interact with, that I could release for flight, that was powerful and agile in the air, and that would return to me. That is the magic of all pigeons, but maybe the racers in particular, that you release them to freedom in the sky and they will return to you. While I gloried in their flight, it was the training and the "team" -- the interaction between me and a working animal -- that really grabbed me and was the attraction to racing in a way that other flying birds can never quite capture. While the sport was a part of it, it was never the "end" of it. In fact, the sport was more the "means" to the end. The only racing season I can really remember is the year I flew one cock (It started as a team of 9, but the others were all lost) through the entire old bird series to 500 miles. He was a yearling and I carried him to the club each Saturday in his little crate, wooden, about a foot cube, with a doweled front -- approximately the same size as my clock. I always pooled "last place" (my first bird was the "last" first bird to a loft each week) for $0.50 and enjoyed "winning" the $5 or so on Sunday. But what I enjoyed most was getting that bird home. I was ecstatic when he came in on the 500 after 5 days. I loved that pigeon not because of the sport, or because of the winning (which he didn't) but because I could let him go, he would conquer the sky and the elements, and come home. And because the sport gave me that, I loved the sport and I loved the pigeons.
Somewhere, somehow, the sport of racing pigeons became the SPORT (a la NBA and NFL) or racing pigeons and the men who fly them morphed from sportsmen into "competitors". No one ever plays to lose, but sometime they play to play and winning is a part of playing. Racing pigeon mags today are glitz and glamour. The writing is of technology, antiseptic lofts, pills, powders, price tags. The racing pigeon is a formula one race car to be dialed in to WIN. The home built, dirt strip dragger is no more and no one runs "what they brung" just to run. And so pigeon mags today don't have what attracted me to the sport, or you Steve, and presumably not you either Patrick. The new writing is all technical, without feeling. The "old" books had feeling. Read Alf Baker "Winning Naturally". Read Piet de Weerd "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter" -- I've never seen the actual text, but in the late 80's the (now long gone) American Racing Pigeon News published one of the 12 chapters each month and I managed to scrounge together 10 of them. Delightful reading. Read even the late Steve Spinks' writings which, while they reveal a fierce competitor, have a strong flavor of the sportsman and pigeon man (a great series is here: http://www.boglinmarsh.com/noviceindex.htm ).
Falconry still appeals, but the pigeons are, well, pigeons and have their family life, and genetics, and personalities and falconry has more bureaucracy than I care to wade through. Diving pigeons (Dewlaps only, both because they are flown mated and because the others -- Doneks, Wutas -- are too damn ugly), might be contenders for training, control, mastery of the air. But racing pigeons and pigeon racing hooked me because the birds disappear and then they come home. Pure and simple. Somehow the "control" of that freedom imparts some of the freedom to me and sporting is a cherry on top. I could give a shit for "thoroughbreds of the sky" and one loft races, but if you gents move in down the street I'll drive 'em 50 miles myself and put a buck on my red checker cock to blow the doors off whatever you basket.
Jake
The "Why" of the Pigeon
Sometime in the not-too-distant past Steve made a comment about looking at racing pigeon mags periodically and not finding what it was that initially attracted him to pigeon racing. Which, if you look at the way it is practiced now, does indeed seem to be very far from the way that we seem to enjoy our pigeons. But that comment got me thinking, along with the way I have approached birds recently, about what exactly it was that attracted me to pigeon racing. I came to some rather interesting conclusions. The most counterintuitive of them being that I'm not actually a huge fan of watching pigeons fly. Maybe that is because racing pigeons aren't the most aerially interesting birds. But mostly I think it is just personality. Don't get me wrong, I love the sight of a team up there in the blue, wings twinkling. But I don't have the attention span, or feel like I should be doing other things, to just sit and watch birds fly for an hour or more. But I do enjoy "flying" birds -- sit down show pigeons, other than as interesting gene pools, don't grab me very much.
All striking me as rather odd until I thought about *how* I got into birds, not just pigeons, but birds period. I was 9 and I wanted a falcon something fierce. There was a book in our school library. A story. About a girl whose family moved to a rundown country house for the summer. When they moved in she found a young kestrel in an attic room and spent her summer raising, training, and hunting the little falcon. I was captivated. Not so much by the hunting (grasshoppers didn't seem like that exciting a prey) but by the concept. The ability to have, hold, train a bird and release it to fly, and then return. I read everything I could get my hands on (which amounted to snippets in 3 or 4 books) on falconry. And from that great children's book "My Side of the Mountain" (also responsible for a proliferation of woodland shelters, deadfall traps, and rabbit snares behind our house) I learned to tie a jess knot. I didn't have anything to apply them to. But a local "resource center" (lots of "junk" that could be recycled for other uses) provided dozens of leather straps and jesses proliferated in the household (a couple of years later I would try to fit one of my first pigeons with a pair with spectacularly unsuccessful results). What I wanted was a falcon. Just a Kestrel, but a pint-sized lord of the sky nevertheless. What I seized upon were finches (Zebra) as some friends had a few and they were lively little birds. By the time my Quaker Cornmeal container with the slit in the lid and "Finch Savings" on the side was full (my grandmother would pay a quarter for shoveling her driveway, raking leaves etc. so mounting up $15 took some time), the intended expenditure had converted to a parakeet which materialized as a green female (I believe) named "Tiercel" and I had my "falcon".
I carefully started training Tiercel (whose legs proved too fragile for jesses) by clipping her wings as some books suggested. My training was a flop. She wouldn't ride around on me. And clipping her wings at a young age ended up rendering her almost flightless (she was rather plump and I assume that her wing muscles never had the opportunity to develop enough to support her body weight) such that when she was released she would "fly" about just off the ground, sweeping the floor with her tail. Needless to say, my interest in cage birds quickly waned though the parakeets (my sister had a companion bird name "Jr. Blue" who was an aerial menace. An agile flier with a burning desire for escape, a sharp beak, and a strong dislike of humans) lingered for years.
At this point I discovered racing pigeons and finally I had my lords of the air. Birds that I knew by name (or at least number), that I trained, that gazed at me regally out of brilliant eyes and swept the skies each morning only to return punctually and trap on command. And that, for me, is the "why" of the pigeon. I wanted a bird that I could train and interact with, that I could release for flight, that was powerful and agile in the air, and that would return to me. That is the magic of all pigeons, but maybe the racers in particular, that you release them to freedom in the sky and they will return to you. While I gloried in their flight, it was the training and the "team" -- the interaction between me and a working animal -- that really grabbed me and was the attraction to racing in a way that other flying birds can never quite capture. While the sport was a part of it, it was never the "end" of it. In fact, the sport was more the "means" to the end. The only racing season I can really remember is the year I flew one cock (It started as a team of 9, but the others were all lost) through the entire old bird series to 500 miles. He was a yearling and I carried him to the club each Saturday in his little crate, wooden, about a foot cube, with a doweled front -- approximately the same size as my clock. I always pooled "last place" (my first bird was the "last" first bird to a loft each week) for $0.50 and enjoyed "winning" the $5 or so on Sunday. But what I enjoyed most was getting that bird home. I was ecstatic when he came in on the 500 after 5 days. I loved that pigeon not because of the sport, or because of the winning (which he didn't) but because I could let him go, he would conquer the sky and the elements, and come home. And because the sport gave me that, I loved the sport and I loved the pigeons.
Somewhere, somehow, the sport of racing pigeons became the SPORT (a la NBA and NFL) or racing pigeons and the men who fly them morphed from sportsmen into "competitors". No one ever plays to lose, but sometime they play to play and winning is a part of playing. Racing pigeon mags today are glitz and glamour. The writing is of technology, antiseptic lofts, pills, powders, price tags. The racing pigeon is a formula one race car to be dialed in to WIN. The home built, dirt strip dragger is no more and no one runs "what they brung" just to run. And so pigeon mags today don't have what attracted me to the sport, or you Steve, and presumably not you either Patrick. The new writing is all technical, without feeling. The "old" books had feeling. Read Alf Baker "Winning Naturally". Read Piet de Weerd "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter" -- I've never seen the actual text, but in the late 80's the (now long gone) American Racing Pigeon News published one of the 12 chapters each month and I managed to scrounge together 10 of them. Delightful reading. Read even the late Steve Spinks' writings which, while they reveal a fierce competitor, have a strong flavor of the sportsman and pigeon man (a great series is here: http://www.boglinmarsh.com/noviceindex.htm ).
Falconry still appeals, but the pigeons are, well, pigeons and have their family life, and genetics, and personalities and falconry has more bureaucracy than I care to wade through. Diving pigeons (Dewlaps only, both because they are flown mated and because the others -- Doneks, Wutas -- are too damn ugly), might be contenders for training, control, mastery of the air. But racing pigeons and pigeon racing hooked me because the birds disappear and then they come home. Pure and simple. Somehow the "control" of that freedom imparts some of the freedom to me and sporting is a cherry on top. I could give a shit for "thoroughbreds of the sky" and one loft races, but if you gents move in down the street I'll drive 'em 50 miles myself and put a buck on my red checker cock to blow the doors off whatever you basket.
Jake
Spay Neuter
Our friend Dutch Salmon has allowed me to post this urgent op- ed piece from the Las Cruces Sun News here in its entirety. Take it away, Dutch.
Spay/Neuter Bill is Anti-Hunting Law
By
Dutch Salmon
A bill in the State Legislature relating to the spaying and neutering of pets would seem to be something we could all support. However, the current model contains enough mischief that it qualifies as a genuine menace, especially to those of us with hunting dogs.
House Bill 1106 (HB-1106), sponsored by Rep. Joni Gutierrez of Dona Ana County, has the dubious distinction of being authoritarian, wrong-headed, and discriminatory all in one package. It is authoritarian in that instead of seeking to help those who wish to spay or neuter their pets, it requires the neutering of virtually all pets statewide, regardless of the quality of the animals or the wishes of their owners. It then offers exemptions to the requirement to spay/neuter, exceptions both poorly reasoned and discriminatory.
For example, exempted from the spay/neuter requirement are “purebred” dogs registered with a national dog registry, like the AKC. This is nonsense. Congenital health problems are rife in many AKC breeds, due to excessive in-breeding and emphasis on show standards, and most working dog owners avoid these animals like the plague. Street-wise “Rover,” lacking “papers,” is often the smarter and healthier animal; all he needs is a home. Why force Rover’s owner to put his dog, and not one with “papers,” under the knife?
Also exempted are certain working dogs including stock dogs, police dogs, and, as an apparent sop to hunters, the dogs of registered outfitters. From the New Mexico Dept. of Game & Fish I learned there are a mere 280 registered outfitters in the state, a portion of whom have dogs. Yet there are about 106,000 licensed hunters in the state, plus an unknown number of unlicensed hunters who hunt animals where no license is required (e.g., jackrabbit and coyote hunting). Many of these hunters use dogs but their much more numerous animals do not come under the “working dog” exemption in this bill.
Thus if your Brittany spaniel is brilliant at finding and pointing quail, but unregistered, expect HB-1106 to force him under the knife, his progeny and talents lost forever once age takes him away. No exemption for him; it’s in the law!
HB-1106 was inspired, and takes language from, the animal rights (AR) agenda, not from people who know the history and worth of dogs where virtually all the strains and types began with a useful purpose.
Consider Steve Bodio of Magdalena whose book Querencia is one of the finest in the pantheon of New Mexico literature. He made several expensive and arduous trips to Kazakhstan, a remote southern province of Russia, to do another book, Eagle Dreams, on the tough local populace that still train golden eagles to take fox and hare and antelope. There he also discovered the Tazi, an eastern variation of the Saluki, dogs as swift and tough as the huge wild raptors and used on the same game. There was no canine equivalent to the Tazi in America, as they had come down through the millennia uncorrupted by registries or dogs shows but rather self-selected solely by work.
After several journeys and incredible red tape Steve was able to import three Tazi hounds and prepared to start a line of singular running dogs, equal to the task on New Mexico’s own super-swift and ubiquitous blacktail jackrabbit. These breeding programs are life-long quests to the devoted but Steve’s efforts will be truncated as soon as HB-1106 becomes law for his Tazis lack “papers” and do not come under the bill’s exemption of “working dogs.” The AR industry likes it that way.
Or consider my own current pride and joy, Angie. Under HB-1106 Angie would have never been born. Her mother, Phoebe, is a greyhound of the Cunningham strain, unregistered running dogs developed by a ranch family of that name in eastern New Mexico. Her sire, Snake, was a greyhound/Saluki cross. It is said that 7 jackrabbits eat as much grass as a sheep. Too many jackrabbits is not good, every predator tries to eat them, yet they are anything but scarce. By my experience they are nearly impossible to catch, even with a trio of hounds. But we try. As the Spanish philosopher Jose Ortega y Gassett wrote: “The only natural response to a creature that lives its life attempting to avoid capture, is to chase it.”
Angie was a revelation for, on occasion, she could catch a jackrabbit by herself! I have a recipe for jackrabbit posole and between me and the dogs nothing goes to waste. Angie also stands on her hind legs each morning, looks me in the eye, and licks my face. For me, more than 30 years of sighthound breeding have come to fruition. But Angie is far from “exempt” under HB-1106 and due to go under the knife. If so, there will never, ever, be anything like her again.
What to do? First, we should take HB-1106 out behind the barn and pound it down a badger hole where it belongs. Next we should take the $1 million per year consigned to the bill and contribute it to spay/neuter clinics and shelters to help those who wish to sterilize do so, and make those dogs put up for adoption (they should indeed be sterilized) more affordable. I have adopted out countless strays myself, many being rescue greyhounds, and never had to put one down for the simple reason I don’t charge for the dog.
But act quickly. HB-1106 is due to come before the House Judiciary Committee Wednesday February 21st. Rep. Gutierrez and the other committee members have numbers and email on line. All are well meaning individuals I’m sure and are open to public input. Indeed, I will concede that HB-1106 is no doubt well intended by most of its sponsors; it simply misses the mark.
There is a difference between animal welfare, which fosters concern and care for our animals, and animal rights, which fosters misunderstanding and coercion against any animal ownership or use. Angie is a wonder and, as a breeder, I take a measure of pride in her creation. She and her possible progeny still have a great future, but not if against her own protest and mine she is forced under the knife by State coercion and has her uterus yanked out like a bad tooth.
Spay/Neuter Bill is Anti-Hunting Law
By
Dutch Salmon
A bill in the State Legislature relating to the spaying and neutering of pets would seem to be something we could all support. However, the current model contains enough mischief that it qualifies as a genuine menace, especially to those of us with hunting dogs.
House Bill 1106 (HB-1106), sponsored by Rep. Joni Gutierrez of Dona Ana County, has the dubious distinction of being authoritarian, wrong-headed, and discriminatory all in one package. It is authoritarian in that instead of seeking to help those who wish to spay or neuter their pets, it requires the neutering of virtually all pets statewide, regardless of the quality of the animals or the wishes of their owners. It then offers exemptions to the requirement to spay/neuter, exceptions both poorly reasoned and discriminatory.
For example, exempted from the spay/neuter requirement are “purebred” dogs registered with a national dog registry, like the AKC. This is nonsense. Congenital health problems are rife in many AKC breeds, due to excessive in-breeding and emphasis on show standards, and most working dog owners avoid these animals like the plague. Street-wise “Rover,” lacking “papers,” is often the smarter and healthier animal; all he needs is a home. Why force Rover’s owner to put his dog, and not one with “papers,” under the knife?
Also exempted are certain working dogs including stock dogs, police dogs, and, as an apparent sop to hunters, the dogs of registered outfitters. From the New Mexico Dept. of Game & Fish I learned there are a mere 280 registered outfitters in the state, a portion of whom have dogs. Yet there are about 106,000 licensed hunters in the state, plus an unknown number of unlicensed hunters who hunt animals where no license is required (e.g., jackrabbit and coyote hunting). Many of these hunters use dogs but their much more numerous animals do not come under the “working dog” exemption in this bill.
Thus if your Brittany spaniel is brilliant at finding and pointing quail, but unregistered, expect HB-1106 to force him under the knife, his progeny and talents lost forever once age takes him away. No exemption for him; it’s in the law!
HB-1106 was inspired, and takes language from, the animal rights (AR) agenda, not from people who know the history and worth of dogs where virtually all the strains and types began with a useful purpose.
Consider Steve Bodio of Magdalena whose book Querencia is one of the finest in the pantheon of New Mexico literature. He made several expensive and arduous trips to Kazakhstan, a remote southern province of Russia, to do another book, Eagle Dreams, on the tough local populace that still train golden eagles to take fox and hare and antelope. There he also discovered the Tazi, an eastern variation of the Saluki, dogs as swift and tough as the huge wild raptors and used on the same game. There was no canine equivalent to the Tazi in America, as they had come down through the millennia uncorrupted by registries or dogs shows but rather self-selected solely by work.
After several journeys and incredible red tape Steve was able to import three Tazi hounds and prepared to start a line of singular running dogs, equal to the task on New Mexico’s own super-swift and ubiquitous blacktail jackrabbit. These breeding programs are life-long quests to the devoted but Steve’s efforts will be truncated as soon as HB-1106 becomes law for his Tazis lack “papers” and do not come under the bill’s exemption of “working dogs.” The AR industry likes it that way.
Or consider my own current pride and joy, Angie. Under HB-1106 Angie would have never been born. Her mother, Phoebe, is a greyhound of the Cunningham strain, unregistered running dogs developed by a ranch family of that name in eastern New Mexico. Her sire, Snake, was a greyhound/Saluki cross. It is said that 7 jackrabbits eat as much grass as a sheep. Too many jackrabbits is not good, every predator tries to eat them, yet they are anything but scarce. By my experience they are nearly impossible to catch, even with a trio of hounds. But we try. As the Spanish philosopher Jose Ortega y Gassett wrote: “The only natural response to a creature that lives its life attempting to avoid capture, is to chase it.”
Angie was a revelation for, on occasion, she could catch a jackrabbit by herself! I have a recipe for jackrabbit posole and between me and the dogs nothing goes to waste. Angie also stands on her hind legs each morning, looks me in the eye, and licks my face. For me, more than 30 years of sighthound breeding have come to fruition. But Angie is far from “exempt” under HB-1106 and due to go under the knife. If so, there will never, ever, be anything like her again.
What to do? First, we should take HB-1106 out behind the barn and pound it down a badger hole where it belongs. Next we should take the $1 million per year consigned to the bill and contribute it to spay/neuter clinics and shelters to help those who wish to sterilize do so, and make those dogs put up for adoption (they should indeed be sterilized) more affordable. I have adopted out countless strays myself, many being rescue greyhounds, and never had to put one down for the simple reason I don’t charge for the dog.
But act quickly. HB-1106 is due to come before the House Judiciary Committee Wednesday February 21st. Rep. Gutierrez and the other committee members have numbers and email on line. All are well meaning individuals I’m sure and are open to public input. Indeed, I will concede that HB-1106 is no doubt well intended by most of its sponsors; it simply misses the mark.
There is a difference between animal welfare, which fosters concern and care for our animals, and animal rights, which fosters misunderstanding and coercion against any animal ownership or use. Angie is a wonder and, as a breeder, I take a measure of pride in her creation. She and her possible progeny still have a great future, but not if against her own protest and mine she is forced under the knife by State coercion and has her uterus yanked out like a bad tooth.
Catching Up
I have received some complaints about light blogging. I have been deep in the New Mexico AR battles, especially the as- yet- in- doubt one against mandatory spay- neuter. (I will post a Dutch Salmon op- ed on that one above). I have also just completed two long articles and a short essay-- a piece for Gray's Sporting Journal on Clovis Man and dogs, one on Mongolia's roads for a new four- wheeler journal edited by the Alpha Enviro, and an essay for a forthcoming book on "Dream Hunts" for James Swan.
So I haven't been completely lazy!* Though I must warn regular readers: as warm weather comes I feel an overwhelming urge to get OUT OF THIS CHAIR.
Meanwhile, around the web:
Here is a very funny and true piece on writing workshops.
Peculiar and Mrs. P. visited and took some good pics. If you click on the one with the goldfish tank you will see in the backgound one of the better shots of the landscape we hunt in-- the often mentioned 100 plus square miles of "Lee's ranch".
I spoke of "delicious Martinis" below but Roseann may have an even better one-- sorry, Bruce!
More to come on dogs, guns, pigeons, and other good stuff.
* And Reid is busy moving.
So I haven't been completely lazy!* Though I must warn regular readers: as warm weather comes I feel an overwhelming urge to get OUT OF THIS CHAIR.
Meanwhile, around the web:
Here is a very funny and true piece on writing workshops.
Peculiar and Mrs. P. visited and took some good pics. If you click on the one with the goldfish tank you will see in the backgound one of the better shots of the landscape we hunt in-- the often mentioned 100 plus square miles of "Lee's ranch".
I spoke of "delicious Martinis" below but Roseann may have an even better one-- sorry, Bruce!
More to come on dogs, guns, pigeons, and other good stuff.
* And Reid is busy moving.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Godzilla, Vampires, and Moby Goshawk?
Darren has been busy-- he has the first of his promised vampire posts up, and one on the science of Godzilla.
In a comment in the second, I learned of the derivation of the monster's name:
"Godzilla of course is a corruption of the Japanese Gojira, which is a portmanteau of gorira (gorilla) and kujira (whale): Gorilla-whale."
I commented:
"Re "Gojira": a falconer friend has just moved to Kyoto, where he made the acquaintance of a Japanese falconer who flies an enormous Siberian Goshawk of the white albidus subspecies named "Takajira", "Taka" being "hawk". We thought its name meant "Hawkzilla", but perhaps it means "Whale- hawk?" Does that make it a white whale?
"The falconer is a professor of something, so both are possibilities..."
Bodie?
Now I just hope that Darren will deal with the biology of Cthulhu.
In a comment in the second, I learned of the derivation of the monster's name:
"Godzilla of course is a corruption of the Japanese Gojira, which is a portmanteau of gorira (gorilla) and kujira (whale): Gorilla-whale."
I commented:
"Re "Gojira": a falconer friend has just moved to Kyoto, where he made the acquaintance of a Japanese falconer who flies an enormous Siberian Goshawk of the white albidus subspecies named "Takajira", "Taka" being "hawk". We thought its name meant "Hawkzilla", but perhaps it means "Whale- hawk?" Does that make it a white whale?
"The falconer is a professor of something, so both are possibilities..."
Bodie?
Now I just hope that Darren will deal with the biology of Cthulhu.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Delicious Martini
A while ago I posted a link to Winnie the Pooh with a (non- drinkable) Martini. In response, Bruce Douglas sent me pics of the most wonderful example of that venerable British colonial rifle I have ever seen. I WANT one!
He wrote: "Great silver work and goatskin sling are tasteful (by Khyber standards)... A friend thought it started out life as a sporting rifle--not a cut-down military. It weighs a hair under 7 1/2 lbs. The only markings (other than in the picture) are on the falling block--1ooks like your standard Birmingham proof, the other single small mark probably stands for "Clive has a job here too." My sense of this rifle is that it was once owned, carried, and used by a man who truly appreciated it...well worn, but mechanically in very good shape, and adorned tastefully. One of the weak points is the silver sling-swivels--they just don't wear well."
Needless to say, I'd take it anyway.
He wrote: "Great silver work and goatskin sling are tasteful (by Khyber standards)... A friend thought it started out life as a sporting rifle--not a cut-down military. It weighs a hair under 7 1/2 lbs. The only markings (other than in the picture) are on the falling block--1ooks like your standard Birmingham proof, the other single small mark probably stands for "Clive has a job here too." My sense of this rifle is that it was once owned, carried, and used by a man who truly appreciated it...well worn, but mechanically in very good shape, and adorned tastefully. One of the weak points is the silver sling-swivels--they just don't wear well."
Needless to say, I'd take it anyway.
Black Hole
Reader (and writer you should read-- see here and here and here, for some examples) John McLoughlin has just visited a most amazing store in Los Alamos.
He writes:
"Here's a fun place to visit. I've appended some images from today's trip to the Black Hole down in Los Alamos, an eerily amazing place that sells surplus laboratory equipment from the vast government laboratories up there. You can find all manner of weirdness here. I go down about twice a year when I get cabin fever.
"Here's a view of the Black Hole's yard, with a bomb and a short length of solid stainless steel pipe (standing on end to immediate right of bomb, behind flags). The church building in the background among the trees was bought by Ed Grothus [owner]
and is used for storage of more Black Hole stuff. He calls it the Church of Annihilation."
"Here's a Bombflower welded together by the Black Hole's owner, Ed Grothus. He's about 84, and quite a character, a former Lab scientist who turned into a peacenik scavenger."
"Another view of the Black Hole yard. That big pipe is the same stainless steel stuff as in the prior photograph; I can walk through it standing up. You could buy some if you wanted, and keep it in your living-room, just for fun."
I need to go there!
He writes:
"Here's a fun place to visit. I've appended some images from today's trip to the Black Hole down in Los Alamos, an eerily amazing place that sells surplus laboratory equipment from the vast government laboratories up there. You can find all manner of weirdness here. I go down about twice a year when I get cabin fever.
"Here's a view of the Black Hole's yard, with a bomb and a short length of solid stainless steel pipe (standing on end to immediate right of bomb, behind flags). The church building in the background among the trees was bought by Ed Grothus [owner]
and is used for storage of more Black Hole stuff. He calls it the Church of Annihilation."
"Here's a Bombflower welded together by the Black Hole's owner, Ed Grothus. He's about 84, and quite a character, a former Lab scientist who turned into a peacenik scavenger."
"Another view of the Black Hole yard. That big pipe is the same stainless steel stuff as in the prior photograph; I can walk through it standing up. You could buy some if you wanted, and keep it in your living-room, just for fun."
I need to go there!
Wrestling Dogs of Central Asia
Today, several friends sent me this link to a New York Times piece on Asian "fighting" dogs.
I put "fighting" in quotes because the practice of testing wolf-guarding flock dogs, non-lethally, is an ancient one in Asia, pre-dating the mostly Islamic societies that now practice it, and is more akin to wrestling than fighting. The dogs signal when they have "had enough", a signal honored both by their canine opponents and by their owners, who have no desire to have their herd guardians crippled. But owners will generally not breed to a dog that will not stand up to an opponent. (I should mention that wolves are as common in most Central Asian back country as coyotes here, but more dangerous).
You might consider the practice a form of field trials for wolf- protection dogs.
Even scientists in the Stans and the Caucasus test their herd (and Border Patrol) breeders thus. I am in possession of a paper by two Azeri scientists (as yet unpublished so I can't post it yet) defending these matches while still deploring western dog fights.
Mary Scriver wrote: "Fascinating, Steve. Sounds like they are more like St. Bernards or Kuvasz or Great Pyrenees among the dogs we know. But the dogs look as though they'd just as soon skip the brandy kegs and knock back some vodka."
I replied: "You are exactly right. I suspect these are the ancestors of all that stuff. Similar ones also in Turkey-- here is one in the distance with a spike collar and a collar in a shop."
Matt also saw the St. Bernard resemblance:
"These dogs in the story look like tough customers. I was looking at their faces and kept thinking they looked familiar. Then it hit me: St. Bernards! What a dog the St Bernard must once have been...."
Me: "All the same descent I'm sure-- what the Romans called "Mollossian dogs" when they first came to Europe.
"I'd rather see them wrestle than be turned into drooling decerebrate mutants like modern show St. Bernards any time."
More pics; Libby with a tobet, the Kazakh version; and a good pic of the same dog. Fierce only when they have to be.
I put "fighting" in quotes because the practice of testing wolf-guarding flock dogs, non-lethally, is an ancient one in Asia, pre-dating the mostly Islamic societies that now practice it, and is more akin to wrestling than fighting. The dogs signal when they have "had enough", a signal honored both by their canine opponents and by their owners, who have no desire to have their herd guardians crippled. But owners will generally not breed to a dog that will not stand up to an opponent. (I should mention that wolves are as common in most Central Asian back country as coyotes here, but more dangerous).
You might consider the practice a form of field trials for wolf- protection dogs.
Even scientists in the Stans and the Caucasus test their herd (and Border Patrol) breeders thus. I am in possession of a paper by two Azeri scientists (as yet unpublished so I can't post it yet) defending these matches while still deploring western dog fights.
Mary Scriver wrote: "Fascinating, Steve. Sounds like they are more like St. Bernards or Kuvasz or Great Pyrenees among the dogs we know. But the dogs look as though they'd just as soon skip the brandy kegs and knock back some vodka."
I replied: "You are exactly right. I suspect these are the ancestors of all that stuff. Similar ones also in Turkey-- here is one in the distance with a spike collar and a collar in a shop."
Matt also saw the St. Bernard resemblance:
"These dogs in the story look like tough customers. I was looking at their faces and kept thinking they looked familiar. Then it hit me: St. Bernards! What a dog the St Bernard must once have been...."
Me: "All the same descent I'm sure-- what the Romans called "Mollossian dogs" when they first came to Europe.
"I'd rather see them wrestle than be turned into drooling decerebrate mutants like modern show St. Bernards any time."
More pics; Libby with a tobet, the Kazakh version; and a good pic of the same dog. Fierce only when they have to be.
Matt here with a notice about the elephant in the room...
Steve and I were just musing on the significance (if any) of living in the last two states in which cockfighting is legal. I don't think it will be the case for long. I am not an advocate of pitting animals, but I think I understand it: the basic principle, and even the basic appeal. The few cockfighters I know are not simpletons, thugs, compulsive gamblers or drug dealers. They love their animals (no hyperbole) and know them very well. Moreover, these men are part of an actual native culture which---anymore---I am finding to be of value almost regardless of context.
I asked Steve, "Can we blog on this?"
He replied, "Yes. I've been thinking about how."
It's tricky, a little. I don't think you can dance around the AR and hunting and dog breeding and coursing and falconry realms and not in good faith address pit fighting.
My own position would NOT be in knee-jerk opposition, just to offer up a sacrificial lamb. For one, I don't really care much about pit fighting either way. It's just not my thing (which, incedentally, is how I replied to our city's animal control officer when, in a very cordial discussion some months ago, he asked me directly how I felt about it. My main concern---and part of the reason for that meeting---is that falconry not be confused with cockfighting. Let the two activities defend themselves from separate charges, at least.)
But more importantly, the "sacrificial lamb" theory doesn't work. The falconers who, in California some months ago, wanted to let the coursing enthusiasts twist in the wind should take note: The animal rights crowd wants it all. They are insatiable. They are not out to split hairs on these issues.
Consider the idea that these Russian dogs are being tested (and not "pitted" for its own sake). These dogs have a tough job (defending sheep from wolves!) and need to be demonstrably tough in order to make the grade for breeding. But instead of accepting that important distinction, the AR position would predictably be: "So what? A 'legitimate explanation' for an illigitimate job (sheep protection) is no argument at all."
Put simply, the animal rightists would rather have NO sheep to protect! And thus, no protection dogs needed.
Which begs the question: "OK, but what should these rural Russians eat, if not the meat of the sheep in need of protection? What should they wear, if not the wool of the sheep in need of protection?"
And to those questions, regardless what answers they give in debate, their real answer is, "We don't care."
Steve agrees, with the caveat: "But that's the argument they can't make to the public!"
Around the Web...
... first, then a bit more. Some new work completed to deadline-- more about it when accepted. And maybe it is time to announce that there is a book contract in play. Or maybe I'm crazy to even mention it, since it has been in negotiation since September with no resolution (I will NOT answer questions yet!)
Anyway...
Chas has an interesting post indicating a Central Asian origin for skiing. I snarkily commented that everything originated in the Altai; Peculiar did me one better by linking to several of my posts demonstrating this thesis (be sure to click on each separate word in the phrase "anything good they didn't invent")
I keep insisting that eagles are serious predators. At Never Yet Melted, David Zincavage links to a story about two Wedge- tailed eagles attacking a paraglider. I am not shocked.
Bad news; A typical jury (no comment) has found the PETA functionaries who lied about their intentions and killed and dumped 83 adoptable dogs and cats innocent of animal cruelty. If killing AND EATING chickens is "Holocaust on a plate" what in God's name is surreptitiously killing 83 animals and putting them in a dumpster? Maybe it's OK if you just throw them away (with the best of motives) and don't eat them. Read The Whole Thing, please. O tempora!
More Decline and Fall. Could this be the most amazing piece of post- modern Brit wimpery yet? Advice from Tony McNulty, the "Minister for Police and Security", on what to do if you see an old lady being mugged:
"Jeremy: You see a young man looking aggressive, shouting at an old woman, what do you do? You retreat and ring the police?
Anyway...
Chas has an interesting post indicating a Central Asian origin for skiing. I snarkily commented that everything originated in the Altai; Peculiar did me one better by linking to several of my posts demonstrating this thesis (be sure to click on each separate word in the phrase "anything good they didn't invent")
I keep insisting that eagles are serious predators. At Never Yet Melted, David Zincavage links to a story about two Wedge- tailed eagles attacking a paraglider. I am not shocked.
Bad news; A typical jury (no comment) has found the PETA functionaries who lied about their intentions and killed and dumped 83 adoptable dogs and cats innocent of animal cruelty. If killing AND EATING chickens is "Holocaust on a plate" what in God's name is surreptitiously killing 83 animals and putting them in a dumpster? Maybe it's OK if you just throw them away (with the best of motives) and don't eat them. Read The Whole Thing, please. O tempora!
More Decline and Fall. Could this be the most amazing piece of post- modern Brit wimpery yet? Advice from Tony McNulty, the "Minister for Police and Security", on what to do if you see an old lady being mugged:
"Jeremy: You see a young man looking aggressive, shouting at an old woman, what do you do? You retreat and ring the police?
"Tony McNulty: I think you should in the first instance. It may well be the simply shouting at them, blowing your horn or whatever else deters them and they go away.
"Jeremy: He’s now hitting her and the police haven’t come, what do you do then?
"Tony McNulty: The same the same, you must always ...
"Jeremy: Still wait?
"Tony McNulty: Get back to the police, try some distractive activities whatever else.
"Jeremy: What, jump up and down?
"Tony McNulty: But I would say you know, sometimes that that may well work."
And, to leave you on a cheerier note: John Carlson of Prairie Ice has just returned to Montana from the Antarctic via Chile and Florida. Enjoy his cultural, ecological, and climactic jet lag!
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Around the Web
I am deep in writing a (paid!) piece on among other things the help dogs gave to Clovis man in his invasion of North America, so will still be posting lightly. But there are some things out there you should see.
Blog wonkery: we are now on "New" Blogger. I (miraculously) have not had much trouble but Reid and many others have.
Recent evidence of megafauna extinctions in Australia once again confirms that no human culture is innocent of the tendency towards "overkill", despite PC claims. (This has a lot to do with my work- in- progress).
As California tries to ban trans- fats, Arizona day- cares forbid fresh fruit and garden produce. HT Roseann, who also has alot of new stuff up you should read.
DEcline and Fall: from Gates of Vienna comes this amazing tale of the English police. Not only were they unhelpful to the victim of a burglar-- they threatened to arrest him if he offered a reward to get his stolen goods back!
"“Then a couple of weeks later I got a phone call from the police warning that I could be prosecuted for trying to buy stolen goods.
"I said that they had not done very much to get my things back.
"They said that they had everything under control, but I pointed out to them they had not even come round to take the serial numbers of the computers.”
"Under section 23 of the Theft Act 1968, it is illegal to advertise rewards for return of goods stolen or lost using words to the effect that no questions will be asked.
"Anyone convicted faces a fine of up to £100 and will get a criminal record."
If you have not yet visited Dr. Hypercube's "Diary of a Mad Natural Historian" let me tempt you with this entry on elephants and Howdah pistols and this one on parthenogenetic (?) frogs.
More in a little-- I actually AM suffering from some buggy problems that make it hard to
link without typing out URL's.
Later if I finish a draft of my work: photos including of a friend's new Ferruginous hawk and a couple of another friend's unusual rifle.
Blog wonkery: we are now on "New" Blogger. I (miraculously) have not had much trouble but Reid and many others have.
Recent evidence of megafauna extinctions in Australia once again confirms that no human culture is innocent of the tendency towards "overkill", despite PC claims. (This has a lot to do with my work- in- progress).
As California tries to ban trans- fats, Arizona day- cares forbid fresh fruit and garden produce. HT Roseann, who also has alot of new stuff up you should read.
DEcline and Fall: from Gates of Vienna comes this amazing tale of the English police. Not only were they unhelpful to the victim of a burglar-- they threatened to arrest him if he offered a reward to get his stolen goods back!
"“Then a couple of weeks later I got a phone call from the police warning that I could be prosecuted for trying to buy stolen goods.
"I said that they had not done very much to get my things back.
"They said that they had everything under control, but I pointed out to them they had not even come round to take the serial numbers of the computers.”
"Under section 23 of the Theft Act 1968, it is illegal to advertise rewards for return of goods stolen or lost using words to the effect that no questions will be asked.
"Anyone convicted faces a fine of up to £100 and will get a criminal record."
If you have not yet visited Dr. Hypercube's "Diary of a Mad Natural Historian" let me tempt you with this entry on elephants and Howdah pistols and this one on parthenogenetic (?) frogs.
More in a little-- I actually AM suffering from some buggy problems that make it hard to
link without typing out URL's.
Later if I finish a draft of my work: photos including of a friend's new Ferruginous hawk and a couple of another friend's unusual rifle.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Letter from Istanbul
Our foreign correspondent, Phillip Grayson (a Magdalenian, I say with pride) is finally settled in Istanbul and sends a letter on the Hrant Dink matter.
Dink was an ethnic Armenian and a liberal in the best and true sense. He insisted on his Turkish as well as his Armenian identity and was no mere spokesman for the Armenian diaspora. A liberal in the true sense, he denounced the French law not allowing one to deny the Armenian genocide as well as the Turkish one denying it.
Here is Phillip:
Istanbul is mourning the death of Hrant Dink. The reporter was shot dead in front of his paper’s offices by a seventeen-year-old man. Conspiracy theories abound. It was Armenians trying to pull the country apart, French agents trying to ruin Turkey’s EU bid, so on, so forth. A massive swarm of mourners followed his corpse through the city to its grave. Many of the same people who protested outside Dink’s trial, calling him Anti-Turkish, an enemy of state, as he was convicted of violating law 301, the increasingly famous anti-free speech law that prohibits, “insulting Turkishness,” the same law that ensured Orhan Pamuk the Nobel Prize when he was tried under it, worded vaguely enough to convict almost anyone and interpreted even more loosely throughout the country. Essentially the law is used by the government to turn the Turkish people against liberal intellectuals. It worked very well with Dink, an ethnic Armenian Turk, succeeding in silencing him.
Conspiracy theories abound. The killer was arrested the day after the murder, wearing the same clothes, bright, distinctive hat and all, that he had been seen in through security cameras and numerous eye-witnesses, the same clothes he was wearing in images shown around the clock on every television channel in the country, carrying the gun he had used in the murder.
Conspiracy theories abound. The government denies that Dink had asked for protection before the murder. Two days before he was shot, Dink wrote that he felt like a pigeon, constantly looking over his shoulder, always on the lookout. It was clear to him, it was clear to everyone, that he was going to be killed.
Conspiracy theories abound here because the truth is obvious and illegal to state. Hrant Dink was murdered by Turkey, through article 301, because he wrote articles opposing the current administration.
It’s difficult for me to say what this means for Turkey. The shows of sympathy are encouraging, but plainly hypocritical. Pamuk remains largely despised throughout the country because of propaganda issued against him and the anti-Turkish stigma so easily applied with 301, so damaging in the eyes of a surprisingly touchy brand of nationalism. Dink was even more hated. The most encouraging message to be found from the entire situation seems to be that the Turkish people do not want to see opponents of the government murdered in the middle of busy city streets, they simply want them jailed or driven into exile.
I wanted to say that Istanbul straddles two continents, stretches from the Middle East to Europe, the Muslim world to the modern world, et c et c. I wanted to write about a girl in headscarf on the subway, whose long dress lifted slightly as she sat to reveal strappy spiked heels. This is a city of contradictions, that’s still true, but now, they seem more like conflicts.
It’s such a bizarre feeling, walking through this modern, civilized, often exhilarating city, and realizing that the government is still killing people over freedom of speech issues. It’s as though there is some dark tension straining to hold these vastly different worlds together, or perhaps struggling to push them apart, to take a more hopeful view.
So Istanbul is mourning Hrant Dink, and I mourn a little for Istanbul, and hate it a little, because the time for being heroic by speaking freely is long gone. There should be no need for courage in these matters. But apparently there is.
Dink was an ethnic Armenian and a liberal in the best and true sense. He insisted on his Turkish as well as his Armenian identity and was no mere spokesman for the Armenian diaspora. A liberal in the true sense, he denounced the French law not allowing one to deny the Armenian genocide as well as the Turkish one denying it.
Here is Phillip:
Istanbul is mourning the death of Hrant Dink. The reporter was shot dead in front of his paper’s offices by a seventeen-year-old man. Conspiracy theories abound. It was Armenians trying to pull the country apart, French agents trying to ruin Turkey’s EU bid, so on, so forth. A massive swarm of mourners followed his corpse through the city to its grave. Many of the same people who protested outside Dink’s trial, calling him Anti-Turkish, an enemy of state, as he was convicted of violating law 301, the increasingly famous anti-free speech law that prohibits, “insulting Turkishness,” the same law that ensured Orhan Pamuk the Nobel Prize when he was tried under it, worded vaguely enough to convict almost anyone and interpreted even more loosely throughout the country. Essentially the law is used by the government to turn the Turkish people against liberal intellectuals. It worked very well with Dink, an ethnic Armenian Turk, succeeding in silencing him.
Conspiracy theories abound. The killer was arrested the day after the murder, wearing the same clothes, bright, distinctive hat and all, that he had been seen in through security cameras and numerous eye-witnesses, the same clothes he was wearing in images shown around the clock on every television channel in the country, carrying the gun he had used in the murder.
Conspiracy theories abound. The government denies that Dink had asked for protection before the murder. Two days before he was shot, Dink wrote that he felt like a pigeon, constantly looking over his shoulder, always on the lookout. It was clear to him, it was clear to everyone, that he was going to be killed.
Conspiracy theories abound here because the truth is obvious and illegal to state. Hrant Dink was murdered by Turkey, through article 301, because he wrote articles opposing the current administration.
It’s difficult for me to say what this means for Turkey. The shows of sympathy are encouraging, but plainly hypocritical. Pamuk remains largely despised throughout the country because of propaganda issued against him and the anti-Turkish stigma so easily applied with 301, so damaging in the eyes of a surprisingly touchy brand of nationalism. Dink was even more hated. The most encouraging message to be found from the entire situation seems to be that the Turkish people do not want to see opponents of the government murdered in the middle of busy city streets, they simply want them jailed or driven into exile.
I wanted to say that Istanbul straddles two continents, stretches from the Middle East to Europe, the Muslim world to the modern world, et c et c. I wanted to write about a girl in headscarf on the subway, whose long dress lifted slightly as she sat to reveal strappy spiked heels. This is a city of contradictions, that’s still true, but now, they seem more like conflicts.
It’s such a bizarre feeling, walking through this modern, civilized, often exhilarating city, and realizing that the government is still killing people over freedom of speech issues. It’s as though there is some dark tension straining to hold these vastly different worlds together, or perhaps struggling to push them apart, to take a more hopeful view.
So Istanbul is mourning Hrant Dink, and I mourn a little for Istanbul, and hate it a little, because the time for being heroic by speaking freely is long gone. There should be no need for courage in these matters. But apparently there is.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Riding High
This picture of Lauren age 13 and Travis age 9 on Connie's mare Squirt was taken just off of our front porch in Tehachapi. It's one of my favorite family pictures.
I was reminded of this by Heidi's post about horses and her family. Of course, I said before there have been other horsemen in my family.
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