Holy Hannah....

I once lived in Jersey City, so I know about rats. Big rats, even. Rats so husky you're afraid that three of them could pick you up and carry you off.

So all I can say about this is.... Yikes!

If a couple of those ever stows away in a cargo ship bound for Manhattan, New York City is doomed.

rats, politics, midtopia

Tidbits

Some interesting nonpolitical stories that crossed my path today:

RULE BRITTANIA
Britain has decided to build two new aircraft carriers, each about 65,000 tons. They will be the largest ships ever to serve with the Royal Navy, three times the size of Britain's current carriers: three Invincible-class ships displacing just 20,600 tons. Even so, they pale in comparison to the American Nimitz class carriers, which tip the scales at 102,000 tons.

What makes this particularly interesting is that very few countries are building new carriers. China is trying to base one off the unfinished hull of an old Soviet carrier, the Varyag; France is considering adding a second carrier similar in size to the new British ones; India, Italy and Spain are all either building or thinking of building small carriers in the Invincible range. But that's it. American naval supremacy has really put a damper on the construction of large capital ships.

A FURRY GRIM REAPER
Oscar, a cat that lives in a nursing home in Rhode Island has an uncanny ability to identify patients that are about to die. He curls up next to them shortly before they die. He's apparently so reliable that the nursing home calls family members when he chooses someone, because it usually means the patient has less than four hours to live.

It takes more than anecdotal evidence to prove a phenomenon, of course, including strict observation to see how Oscar interacts with healthy patients, what separates a "choosing" from other behaviors, and the like. But the cat apparently does a better job of predicting deaths than the human doctors at the home. And it's easy to at least imagine cues that might guide her behavior -- changes in a patient's smell, for example, or breathing or movement. Spooky, in any case.

cat, Royal Navy, midtopia

Science bits, dead animal edition

Some notable stories for science fans:

A Siberian reindeer herder discovered the frozen body of a 10,000-year-old baby mammoth, with trunk, eyes, organs and fur intact. Scientists estimate the female was six months old when she died. They plan to take DNA samples, part of an effort to map the mammoth genome. This could eventually lead to cloning a mammoth, resurrecting them from the dead.


Further south and several millennium later, a rare giant squid washed up on a beach in Australia. 26 feet long and weighing 550 pounds, It's one of the largest specimens ever found. Giant squid are deepwater creatures, so they're very hard to observe. It wasn't until 2005 that a live one was photographed, and 2006 before a squid was captured (photo, above) -- but it died from injuries sustained in the process.

And while this doesn't involve a dead animal (unless you want to metaphorically refer to NASA's creaking manned space program), here's a cool tale of a lone inventor, Peter Homer, who created a better space glove in his garage -- besting NASA's own design and winning $200,000.

Peter Homer, NASA, squid, mammoth, science, midtopia

Fly like an eagle

Everybody of a certain age has a bald eagle story.

I spent six of the first eight years of my life in Buffalo, N.Y. Growing up there, the bald eagle had almost mythic significance to my young mind because it was a symbol in more ways than one. Not only did it represent our country; it was vanishingly rare. You never saw one except on television. It wasn't like cardinals, for instance, which are the state bird of seven states precisely because they're everywhere. The eagle's very scarcity added to its mythology, as well as providing a potent lesson in environmentalism, conservation and the fragility and interconnectedness of life.

In the summer of 1976 -- another interesting piece of symbolism, being the bicentennial year -- my family moved to Wisconsin, far closer to eagle habitat. And as my brothers and I grew older we started making annual treks to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area in northern Minnesota.

There we finally caught glimpses of eagles in the wild -- huge birds, black wings outstretched, seemingly headless because their white skulls often blended into the brightness of the sky as they circled far above us. Each encounter was a moment of awe and wonder. Merely seeing the puffy shape of an empty eagle's nest, high up in some ancient dead tree, was enough to provoke excitement. It was almost like spotting a Yeti or a Sasquatch -- finally meeting up with a legendary but seldom seen king of the wild places.

I attended college in Minnesota, in the Twin Cities. But my glimpses of eagles remained confined to the still-frequent trips to the Boundary Waters.

When I was 25, our parents took us on a trip to Alaska. One day we decided to go deep-sea fishing. We arrived at the dock and piled on to the charter boat. As it eased out into the channel leading to the ocean, I saw them: eagles, dozens of them, perched in the trees lining the channel. Juveniles, adults, pairs and singles. They were there for the same reason we were: fish. And they were there in droves.

The fishing was awful, at least for me: I caught one tiny rockfish, which appeared to have been hooked accidentally as it ignored my line. But the fishing expedition turned out to be one of the highlights of the trip, thanks to the eagles.

My career took me around the country, to places like New Jersey and Florida. The latter is another eagle-dense state, but I didn't see many there, since I spent most of my time in urban areas. Several years later, though, I landed a job back in the Twin Cities, and we returned to Minnesota.

We first lived in Minneapolis, which had lots of sparrows but no eagles. But we drove back and forth to Wisconsin a lot to visit my parents, and increasingly spotted eagles circling far above the highway. We thought that was cool, a small sign of the comeback we'd been reading about.

Then we moved to the western suburbs, pursuing a better school district and more affordable housing. We found ourselves surrounded by lakes and wetlands -- and eagles.

Now, despite living in a densely populated suburb, we see eagles every day. A nesting pair lives a couple miles from our house. Another lives somewhere in the opposite direction; I see them overhead in the morning as I drive my daughters to school and day care.

To me and my wife -- raised during a time when eagles were on the brink of extinction -- this is endlessly amazing. We never tire of seeing them, craning our necks or pulling the car over to the side of the road merely to watch.

Our daughters like eagles, too. But they don't understand our fascination, and they likely never will. They see eagles every day. When we go to the Minnesota Zoo -- a not-infrequent occurence -- we always attend the bird show, where they get to see a bald eagle up close.

They like it when I point out wildlife as we drive along. But I've lost all credibility with them as far as eagles are concerned.

"Look up there!" I'll say.

"WHAT? WHAT?" they'll ask excitedly, squirming around in their seats to get a look. "What is it?"

"A bald eagle!"

"Oh." They'll immediately stop squirming and go back to annoying each other.

So I'm very happy that the bald eagle is officially back from the brink -- removed yesterday from the federal government's list of threatened species. And I'm glad that they plan to continue managing the eagle population so that it doesn't end up back on the list -- even though that appears to means that the Minnesota man whose lawsuit prompted the action still won't be able to develop his eagle-infested property despite winning the suit.

But I'm sad that my daughters will never share our sense of wonder at their existence. They'll grow up bemused by their parents' eagle fixation, never quite understanding the experience that underlies it.

Still, it's a good problem to have. Welcome back, bald eagle. May you soar for many years more.

conservation, bald eagle, politics, midtopia

People are stupid

Two examples from the shallow end of the human gene pool today.

In Japan, a couple of thousand people bought sheep as pets, thinking they were poodles.

Flocks of sheep were imported to Japan and then sold by a company called Poodles as Pets, marketed as fashionable accessories, available at $1,600 each....

The scam was uncovered when Japanese moviestar Maiko Kawamaki went on a talk-show and wondered why her new pet would not bark or eat dog food....

One couple said they became suspicious when they took their "dog" to have its claws trimmed and were told it had hooves.

This is so over the top, especially the last example, that I'm waiting for this to be exposed as a hoax. But so far, it appears legit.

On the upside, Rex the Poodle will make a nice (if expensive) meal now that he's turned into Kabob the Sheep. (h/t: Sad-Sav)

Lest you suspect I think Americans are somehow better than the Japanese, let's go to Washington, D.C., and the case of the $65 million pair of pants.

When the neighborhood dry cleaner misplaced Roy Pearson's pants, he took action. He complained. He demanded compensation. And then he sued. Man, did he sue.

Two years, thousands of pages of legal documents and many hundreds of hours of investigative work later, Pearson is seeking to make Custom Cleaners pay -- would you believe more than the payroll of the entire Washington Nationals roster?

He says he deserves millions for the damages he suffered by not getting his pants back, for his litigation costs, for "mental suffering, inconvenience and discomfort," for the value of the time he has spent on the lawsuit, for leasing a car every weekend for 10 years and for a replacement suit, according to court papers.

Pearson is demanding $65,462,500. The original alteration work on the pants cost $10.50.

By the way, Pearson is a lawyer. Okay, you probably figured that. But get this: He's a judge, too -- an administrative law judge for the District of Columbia.

The case is going to trial in June.

I guess it can't simply be thrown out, because Pearson does appear to have a legitimate claim -- just not a $65 million one. But at what point do his antics become grounds for dismissal -- or for harassment charges?

Loony cases like this don't justify calls for tort reform -- especially because such calls usually make no effort to distinguish between legitimate suits and obviously frivolous ones, relying instead on blanket solutions like damage caps. But the court system definitely needs to come up with better ways to handle these outliers -- like ordering them to arbitration, summarily reducing the allowed claim, or otherwise insisting that the case remain within the bounds of reality -- or, in this case, small-claims court. (h/t: Moderate Voice)

Update: The poodle story is, indeed, a hoax. Too bad.

, humor, law, politics, midtopia

Donkey on the witness stand

No, not a Democrat. A donkey:

The first witness in a lawsuit Wednesday between two neighbors was Buddy the donkey, who walked to the bench and stared at the jury, the picture of a gentle, well-mannered creature and not the loud, aggressive animal he had been accused of being.

The donkey was at the center of a dispute between oilman John Cantrell and attorney Gregory Shamoun that began after Cantrell complained about a storage shed Shamoun was building in his backyard in Dallas.

Only in Texas....

donkey, humor, politics, midtopia

The high price of animal shelters

Two years ago, our oldest cat died. A year ago, so did our second. Both were elderly; their deaths were sad but not unexpected. They're buried together in the woods in our back yard.

Four weeks ago, we decided it was time to have cats around again. So we visited several local shelters and finally adopted a pair of 3-month-old female kittens: a feisty short-hair calico and an affectionate black domestic longhair with extra toes on its front feet. I'll post pictures later when I get time.

We believe in adopting from shelters rather than buying purebreds for both humanitarian and economic reasons. And while we've always been sort of opposed to declawing -- my wife calls it "cutting off their fingers at the first knuckle" -- we reluctantly decided to have them declawed because we both work and wouldn't be able to spend the necessary time teaching them not to shred the furniture.

What floored me was the cost.

The adoption fee for each cat was $150 plus tax. That included a bunch of veterinary care prior to adoption, plus free microchipping and spaying afterward.

Both had colds -- a common ailment in shelters, where animals live in close proximity to each other -- so a vet visit and some antibiotics cost $50.

Declawing was another $200 apiece -- no charge for the extra toes. They also got their distemper boosters.

So four weeks in, we've invested more than $800 in these two "free" cats.

Declawing was a choice, of course. And the fees in the Twin Cities are far higher than those at shelters out in the country. But that's a staggering amount of money -- and it doesn't even include things like food, litter boxes or litter.

I understand that shelters need to cover expenses, and I don't begrudge them or the vets the money. We love the cats -- even if they keep us awake at night with their playing, or by jumping up on the bed and purring in our ears -- and can afford the cost.

But it has set me to wondering: At what point does the cost of adoption start interfering with their mission to save animals? A lot of families that might otherwise make wonderful homes for abandoned animals simply can't afford to spend that kind of money on a pet. Are the shelters dangerously narrowing their customer base in a pennywise, pound-foolish fashion?

Those thoughts came back to me after reading about research in adoption psychology. This refers to a growing trend among animal shelters to study the psychology of shelter animals, as well as that of people who give up pets and those who adopt them. The idea is to not only match people with compatible pets: the goal includes discovering why owners give up pets (in hopes of reducing the number of abandoned animals) and to develop shelter designs and training programs for abandoned animals that will make them more adoptable. The overall goal: greatly reducing the number of animals euthanized every year.

The article is flawed. It starts out strong, then devolves into a lightweight story about the author's decision to adopt a dog from the shelter he's writing about. But it makes some sobering points:

1. Of the 4 million dogs that enter animal shelters in the United States each year, half are euthanized.

2. The most heartbreaking scene was the description of the shelter's "disposition team", which has the emotionally wrenching job of assessing new arrivals and deciding, on the basis of a few minutes' interaction, which animals get sent to the adoption kennels and which get sent to the canine Treblinka of the euthanasia room.

3. While the main reasons for surrendering dogs are understandable -- biting, aggression, chewing on furniture, inability to house-train, moving, loss of job -- many are downright frivolous and reflect a shocking emotional disregard. Among the examples cited in the article: animals surrendered because they were "boring", or the owners were going on vacation, or the family had bought new furniture and the dog's coloring didn't match.

The most interesting argument the article makes is that pets are being forced to adapt to a changing human culture that they were never bred for. Most dog breeds were developed for specific outdoor purposes: herding, catching rats, hunting. These jobs not only selected for energy and intelligence, but were usually performed in the company of people or other dogs.

But our population is far more urban and suburban these days, and in many families the adults all work -- and work long hours. So those dogs are now forced to endure long days alone in a house or apartment, with the boredom and loneliness relieved only by the arrival home of their humans -- who after a long day of work are often too tired or stressed or busy to deal with the needs of their canine companions.

The article cites some successes -- including one here in Minneapolis, where "socialized" puppies were far less likely to be returned after adoption. Another training program in New Hampshire cut the euthanasia rate in half, while in Ohio an aggressive spay/neuter program has helped cut euthanasia by 40 percent while reducing the number of abandoned dogs by 16 percent.

Still, I was left wondering if there are any real solutions, or if the ethically numbing reality of animal shelters are simply the way things are. As long as adoption is expensive; as long as people have unrealistic expectations of their animals; and as long as substantial numbers of people refuse to have their animals spayed, there will always be more abandoned animals than there are people to adopt them. And that means there will always be disposition teams separating the lucky from the unlucky.

It strikes me that there is plenty of room for either states or private foundations to get involved here. I see a two-pronged approach.

1. A subsidy program to reduce the cost of adoption, thus broadening the base of potential adopters;

2. An aggressive education, subsidy and (perhaps) enforcement program to encourage widespread spaying/neutering of pets. Working with vets, say, to offer pet owners a one-year discount on vet services if they get their pet neutered (with the state picking up most of the difference). Or shelters requiring that anyone dropping off a litter of kittens or puppies must get the mother spayed. Or cities requiring spaying as part of their licensing process except for licensed breeders. The idea is to make spaying the default choice, so that it occurs unless the pet owner is highly motivated to avoid it.

Then, perhaps, shelters can do more of the sheltering part of their job and less of the emotionally numbing work that comes from serving as a triage center for society's carelessness.

Update: Picture of cute kitties added.

pets, animal shelters, politics, midtopia