Categories
Critters

A story of lasts

Two tales of extinction from Tasmania.

Earlier in May, I read about the efforts to clone the Tasmanian Tiger (Thylacine) an animal whose last known representative died in captivity in 1936 (see video at BBC).

I studied about the Tasmanian Tiger when I wrote a four-part story about cryptozoology, extinct and legandary animals, and the giant squid in Tale of Two Monsters. According to an article in ENN:

It took humans only some 70 years to make the Tasmanian tiger extinct, as farmers in the 1800s began shooting, poisoning, gassing, and trapping the animal, blaming it for attacking sheep. The last known Tasmanian tiger died in 1936, and it was officially declared extinct in 1986.

Today, Allan pointed to this sad tale of the return of pieces of the body of Truganinni, the woman who is considered “the last Tasmanian Aborigine”.(Descendants of the early aborigines have survived, though none are full-blooded.)

The British Royal College of Surgeons pilfered the pieces long ago for study, and only just discovered them again in January. Since the Tasmanian aborigines believe their bodies should lie in rest near their home, the pieces of Truganinni are being returned for ceremonial burial.

Accounts about the deliberate extermination of the Tasmanian aborigine bear a remarkable resemblance to those taken to exterminate the Tasmanian Tigers. According to Jared Diamond:

Tactics for hunting down Tasmanians included riding out on horseback to shoot them, setting out steel traps to catch them, and putting out poison flour where they might find and eat it. Sheperds cut off the penis of aboriginal men, to watch the men run a few yards before dying.

The final efforts to eliminate the aborigines occurred through that most efficient of destructive agents – religion. When only about 300 aborigines still lived, George Augustus Robinson a self styled preacher convinced the remnants to join him in a sanctuary created for them on Flinders Island. There he would convert them over to Christianity and “modern ways” while he protected them from further destruction. Unfortunately, the Island became a prison rather than a refuge, and Robinson helped complete the work started so enthusiastically by the other settlers.

Note: In the interest of disclosing possible bias, I should point out that here in the United States, we share much of the same efficiency as our Australian brethren when it comes to killing or displacing natives – human and otherwise.

Categories
Critters

Just another morning

It starts with an Argentinian ant invasion. While I was waiting for the exterminator this morning, I received a phone call from another weblogger. Lovely voice. Witty conversation. Wonderful surprise.

Just as I’m hanging up the phone, the exterminator came and after I showed her where the little buggers were entering my home, I took off to let her do her thing.

Normally I walk along Crissy Fields in the evening, but today was too nice to stay inside. As I was walking along the beach I watched the pelicans fishing just offshore.

Pelicans are my favorite bird. They look as if they couldn’t fly more than a few feet, but I’ve seen them fly into gale force winds with barely a struggle. And their landing! They circle lower and lower, than a quick crashing dive bomb into the water, splashing water high into the air — absolutely no subtlety in their movements. Fearless.

Pelicans are almost completely indifferent to humanity. They’re neither overly impacted by nor all that dependent on us. For the most part, they just ignore us. They’re large enough to have few predators, and aggressive enough to ensure they get what they need to survive. A truly beautiful, arrogant bird.

So this morning I walked along the beach with the wind in my hair and the sun in my face, watching the pelicans exhibit their mastery over water and air — truly king over all they fly.

Damn!

I didn’t know sharks got that big in the Bay…

Categories
Insects

Spiders

Ha! Shannon and I have a co-fearer of spiders. Kath details her terror at an encounter with a monster spider in Florida.

My favorite generator of terror? The Tegenaria gigantea. Don’t let its harmless common name of House Spider fool you — this arachnid can reach sizes of 18mm for the male. And if you live in the UK, yup it’s the same spider.

Yes, I know that these spiders control pests, are shy, don’t harm people, don’t bite, don’t sting, don’t make noise, and don’t poop on the carpet. Doesn’t matter. Put one in the same room with me, and I’ll pass out after first shattering your ear drums with my screams.

Guaranteed.

Update I did a little more research and found this article on spiders in Seattle. It is the giant house spider that can get up to four inches. And I also found out that all spiders do bite and all are venemous, but most spider bites have no impact on humans. And the harmful spider in Seattle is the Hobo spider, not the Brown Recluse. Sorry, I get my spiders mixed up.

BTW — do I redeem myself in all of your eyes by telling you that I like snakes and lizards, and once owned an Iguana named Heratio, and a Chameleon named Godzilla?

Categories
Critters

Speaking of animals

Speaking of cat loving Australian men and other animals, I found a web site that lists some of the more interesting Australian Animals, including creatures such as the Kookaburra and the Bandicoot.

And the Tasmanian Devil isn’t just a Bugs Bunny cartoon character. Want to hear what they sound like? Make sure your cats are out of the room, first.

Categories
Critters Just Shelley

The Yellow and Black Skunk

When I was a young’un, I lived on a farm several miles outside of Kettle Falls, in Washington state. Below the farm was an undeveloped field with a dirt road running through it that connected several homes. And below the road and the field was Lake Roosevelt. Surrounding all of this was bits and pieces of the Colville National Forest.

Back in those more innocent days, my mother let me go down to the field by myself as long as I didn’t go down to the water.

I loved this field of tall golden weeds. Since I was only about five at the time, the weeds would come up to my chest and I could look out on a sea of waving fronds and imagine I was on a ship in the ocean.

I loved the dust of the dirt road and would walk it slowly, sucking on the end of a grass blade pulled from the side of the road, occasionally chasing after a grasshopper or butterfly. Every once in a while I would see another critter such as a deer or a skunk, always trying to entice the former towards me, always giving considerable room to the latter.

Imagine a soft, warm summer afternoon, blue sky, glimmer of light reflection off of the water in the distance, the sound of insects and birds the only noise. And absolutely nothing to do but walk along the road and think thoughts of faraway places and strange new doings, such as my cousin coming for a visit and my Uncle giving my brother a rifle and not me because I was a girl. I got a stupid china tea set. You know the kind of thoughts — a child’s thoughts.

One day, there was a movement in the field towards my left. I stopped and looked, hand over eyes to shade the sun, squinting my eyes al-most tight (sign of glasses to come the following year), trying to see what was causing the motion.

Up a head pops and then down it goes.

What?

Up a head pops and then down it goes again.

What is that?

Again, the head appears and I have a better view. It’s golden and kind of flat and has black markings.

That’s not a deer. Too small for a deer.

Up the head pops and then down it goes again.

That’s not a bunny. It’s too big.

Up and down.

That’s not a skunk though it does have markings like a skunk.

I watched this strange creature for some time. I wasn’t frightened. If anything I thought this new experience was a huge treat considering the usual activity associated with a warm sunny afternoon, such as standing in the middle of a road of dust, listening to the insects rub wings and legs.

Up the head would pop, down it would go, each jump moving it farther away until with a last rustle, it disappeared into the woods.

I ran home and opened the door and there was my mother, washing something in the sink, the smell of good things to eat hanging in the late afternoon air. I remembered running up to her, excited, telling her in the jumbled child manner about this creature in the field that had these black markings and it jumped up and down and up and down and up…

“That’s a skunk, honey, You just saw a skunk is all.”

A yellow and black skunk? Well, okay. If you say so, Mama.

So I went for the just the longest, longest time, with this memory in my head of my warm, sunny afternoon and the field of gold and the dusty road, and my yellow and black skunk.

Until the day when I was looking at a new picture book and realized that my skunk was a bobcat.