Uneasy lies the head that wears . . .

So ends October, the month for animals . . . (See Oct. 1 post) Here’s a long-extinct animal, the Elk-Moose (Cervalces Scotti), who at least 40,000 years ago, ranged over most of the eastern half of the continent, inhabiting bog lands and wetlands.

This impressive skeleton (and head gear!), a gift from Princeton University, can be seen at the NJ State Museum, just inside and to the right of the entrance. It’s believed that rapid climate change at the end of the Pleistocene Epoch probably caused this creature to go extinct – that, and the arrival of the (more adaptive and slightly smaller) “modern” moose.

Found in Hope township, Warren County, NJ, this is one of just two complete skeletons of the elk-moose in the world.

Does anyone else wonder how this guy supported those antlers?
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Chew on these ideas for awhile

Cliché or not, sometimes "food for thought" feels like the only right way to say, "Here's something I read and found interesting or stimulating. . . Maybe you'll like it too."

In extracting the following passages from Lee Hall's book, which was the subject of the last post, I’m hoping they’ll be food for your thought.

· Some future discoverer of the ancient culture called humanity might fairly decide that we Homo sapiens were an insecure lot. Until the end, we kept on fighting and vanquishing animals by deliberately ignoring the unremitting destruction of their territory. By ignoring their numbers when they fell in the wars we waged. By the deforestation of their habitat and the expansion of the farming we prized. By only permitting them to exist insofar as we could take advantage of them as tourist attractions, experimental subjects, film props, guards, playthings, or something to package in bright yellow foam and unwrap, ingest, and excrete.

· Treating farm animals as pets calls on us to delight in the total subservience expected by an affluent society over its animals. Indeed, the custom of petkeeping was established as a display of status by a population which can afford to keep more animals than it can use as food, with the leisure time to breed animals to enjoy as a form of play.

· Few would argue against the idea of neutering domesticated pet animals; these animals are selectively bred to be dependent on humans.
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Changing minds if not lives too

Capers in the Churchyard: Animal Rights Advocacy in the Age of Terror. by Lee Hall. Nectar Bat Press, Darien, CT: 2006.

Just as it’s hard to read them, it’s also hard to summarize the style or content of Lee Hall’s two books about animals.

During the period I went through both books, highlighting all the way, her viewpoints stayed with me long after I’d finished reading. She’s right about so much, unconventional on familiar issues and painfully demanding as far as what we should be doing.

The first book, Capers in the Churchyard, is the easier read, maybe because it’s shorter and Hall was only warming up for the 2nd book; maybe because not till the 2nd book does she make unarguably clear what she thinks humans should be doing instead of merely improving the conditions of domesticated, purpose-born or captive animals -- not demonstrating against fur, not adopting farm animals in sanctuaries, not demanding kinder ways to kill chickens for McDonald’s to serve . . .

And definitely not threatening or taking physical action against those involved with animal experimentation or any other objectionable activity involving animals.

Hall argues masterfully in Capers that animal advocates must not be militant activists, fighting cruelty and abuse with the same tactics. Don’t fight fire with fire, she argues, but with reason, dignity and inspiration. Those with right on their side should keep it there.

Just think: how often have our minds ever changed when those with different opinions yelled at us, called us names or threatened us and our families?

Hall’s solutions to the world’s myriad wrongs against non-human animals are simple, peaceful . . . and achingly hard to implement:

1 -- transcend the age-old culture of dominion over other animals and accept that the only “right” they need is the right to be left alone.

2 – don’t eat them.

That’s all.
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'Holy crow!' seems apropos

Tonight’s PBS “Nature” program tells us all about crows. What we may have thought of only as cawing, mischievous birds we now know to be the smartest birds.

Not only do crows recognize human facial differences, but they also warn one another of humans who are dangerous to them. And they have different warning calls for cats and hawks. All such alerts are done in the hoarse tones associated with crows, although they also have soft, melodious ways of speaking to family members.

Like humans and great apes, New Caledonian crows use tools. Not only that, they make tools. Not only that, they use tools to make tools.

It’s thought that their being omnivorous eaters encourages crows’ brain development. One example: they drop walnuts from just the right height to crack, but not shatter, on a road; then they retrieve the nuts while the light’s red. Young crows also can spend up to five years with their parents – another means of cognitive development.

Though crows can learn who’s good and bad for them, the question is, do parents pass on this knowledge to their young? This is something only a very small group of animals can do.

One year-long experiment, involving tracking of radio-rigged and leg-banded crow fledglings, indicates the answer may be “yes.” They can learn, remember and put to use info they got from their parents – for example, the reaction to humans wearing a certain mask associated with threats to crows.

This TV program raised serious questions: do crows need such research findings? Does it do them any good to perform tests for scientists? Why can’t crows – and all other wild animals – simply be left alone to live their lives the best way they can? (This foreshadows a discussion of Lee Hall’s 2nd book, “On Their Own Terms,” which promotes “Let them be!” as the only right approach to wild animals.)
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Remembering Echo

“Echo” was a mother many times over. She “grew in age and wisdom,” becoming the matriarch of her large family, all of whom depended on her. She died at age 65.

During her lifetime, Echo’s family, like most others, experienced hard times. Sometimes they wanted for food; at other times, enemies attacked them. One of Echo’s babies was born with a severe physical handicap, and one of her sisters became very ill after being poisoned.

Using knowledge that had come down to her through the ages, Echo led the way through all that befell her family, often modeling how others in the clan might behave. She took tender care of her son, Eli, showing patience and loyalty, staying with him when others moved ahead. He recovered from his grave leg impairment.

Knowing her sister could not recover, Echo left her so others in the family might live. When a baby was kidnapped by enemies, Echo led her family to take her back.

When Echo died last year of natural causes, her family grieved. One daughter was so traumatized, she stayed with the body long beyond the usual time.

Echo’s traits – intelligence, loyalty, devotion, maternal love and leadership – made her famous in her own lifetime. She lived in Amboseli National Park, Kenya, with her extended clan of elephants. A scientist who had watched Echo for decades said she “was a lovely being. She gave us a lot of joy. She was a wonder.”
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A seasonal, and topical, poem

IT’S AUTUMN

It’s autumn. The nuts patter down.
Beechnuts, acorns, black walnuts –
tree orphans thrown to the ground
in their hard garments.

Don’t go in there,
into the faded orange wood –
it’s filled with angry old men
sneaking around in camouflage gear
pretending no one can see them.

Some of them aren’t even old,
they just have arthritic foreheads,
or else they’re drunk,
but something’s got to suffer
for their grudges, their obscure sorrows:
the more blown-up flesh, the better.

They’ll shoot at any sign of movement –
your dog, your cat, you.
They’ll say you were a fox or skunk,
or duck, or pheasant. Maybe a deer.

They aren’t hunters, these men.
They have none of the patience of hunters,
none of the remorse.
They’re certain they own everything.
A hunter knows he borrows.

I remember the long hours
crouching in the high marsh grasses –
the grey sky empty, the water silent,
the hushed colours of distant trees –
waiting for the rush of wings,
half-hoping nothing would happen.

-- Margaret Atwood (1939-)

Stand up for black bears!

Plan to stand up for black bears this weekend!

There won’t be many of these rallies, and it’s crucial that every one is well-attended!

Rain or shine, come out this Saturday, October 16, 12 noon--2pm.

Route 46 & Sammis Ave., in front of the Wachovia Bank, Dover, NJ. (Note: The address on GPS would be 401 route 46, Dover NJ, but it’s really Rockaway Twp.)

Questions or comments? E-mail info@aplnj.org.

Please come out for the bears!
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