Wildlife Edition
Ginny, now famous as the Dog who Rescues Cats, may look small but she has a heart big enough to encompass all of felinedom and a sizable portion of the human species, too. When she'd managed to fill her human partner, Philip Gonzalez's apartment with abandoned and injured cats, she pulled his loyal friend, Sheila, into the rescue operation.
Literally hundreds of homeless and abused cats owe at least one of their 9 lives to Ginny and her human crew. Amazingly, even the wildest of the street cats seem to intuitively trust Ginny. They often emerged from their hiding places when she made her rounds and followed her down the street as she sought out the wounded and helped Philip and Sheila feed the starving. No biological mother has ever watched over her children with more tender, loving care than Ginny.
Koko, the famous "talking" gorilla - the first non-human primate to learn human sign language - recently made history again as the first English-speaking gorilla to go on-line in a live Internet chat group. But Koko is also well-known for her fondness for kittens who she takes care of in much the same way as a mother gorilla cares for her babies. Gorilla mothers are characteristically patient, affectionate, and playful with their offspring.
When her first kitten, All Ball, was killed by a car, Koko cried and mourned her loss for months. But eventually she requested another kitten. The companion she chose looked remarkably like All Ball, a small tail-less gray cat.
Today, according to her on-line interview, one of the things Koko enjoys most is playing with her current feline companion, Smoke.
Father Goose. In the movie version (Fly Away Home) it was his daughter who led the orphaned geese on their first migratory flight from Canada to Virginia. But in real life, sculptor and amateur flyer Bill Lishman, better known to many as "Father Goose," guided his adopted flock to their winter home in his Easy Riser. His original gaggle of 18 geese returned to Lishman's farm the next summer with a few friends.
Lishman was the first to show that, with care, migratory birds who had lost their natural instincts to migrate could be taught what they needed to know to survive - that they could learn from a human surrogate how to be wild bird.
His imaginative techniques have given thousands of migratory birds like the endangered whooping crane and trumpeter swan new wings and a fighting chance to make a comeback from near extinction.
Papa, the nurturing goose. Papa, a male goose with a highly developed maternal instinct, had lost his own ability to fly but never hesitated to take an orphaned or injured duck, geese, or chicken under his broken wing.
His human colleagues at the Aark wildlife rehabilitation center in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, were grateful for the dedicated surrogate dad, who taught his adopted flocks all the life skills they needed to return to their natural world that he would never see himself. Even when he was so feeble he could barely waddle between the fowl pen and pond, and was clearly losing his memory and sight, Papa pushed on with his self-appointed maternal duties.
Over his long and selfless career at the Aark he nurtured and tutored `several generations of orphaned fowl, sending each precious student back out into the wild with pride.
You've probably often asked yourself, What kind of parents do insects make? Much like the rest of us, as it turns out. They range from indifferent to devoted.
The average housefly, for example, may well consider her parental duties over once she's deposited a litter of maggots in a suitable spot. Ant and bee mom's, at the other extreme, exist only to lay eggs whose needs are tended to day and night by a huge staff of "nanny" drones.
Infant lace bugs and a fair number of hymenoptera enjoy full-time maternal protection and care. And a few rare bug dads aren't too macho to tackle the child-, or larvae-rearing chores on their own.
The more emotionally evolved insects, of course, share their child care duties. Crytocercus roach couples, for example, mate for life. The young nymphs may take up to 5 years to mature, during which time the dedicated parents feed them a special diet supplemented with "parental hindgut fluids and fecal pellets." Yum!
For the ancient Greeks, nothing said love like a rabbit. Their classical art is filled with images of amorous men offering the objects of their affection rabbits - the ultimate gift of love.
Medieval and Renaissance artists used rabbits, usually white, to symbolize purity, chastity, and unquestioning faith. Other, more secular art of the time incorporated rabbits as symbols of enviable fertility.
Closer to home, many Native American tribes of North America celebrated the prolific bunny in traditional "rabbit dances." By dancing around with rabbit-like movements, they hoped to increase their own fertility.
So, wouldn't a Valentine's Bunny, handing out heart-shaped boxes of chocolates, really make more sense than an egg-peddling Easter Bunny? What do these frolicking furballs have to do with Easter?
Maybe it's more of a spring thing. Often the first creatures to give birth in springtime, the rabbit naturally became linked to rebirth and renewal. Some Eastern cultures believe the hare lives to a ripe old age and knows a thing or two about immortality. Some even believe they the care-free hoppers are immortal. According to Chinese legend, the hare was actually created from the covering of "the pill of immortality." The Algonquin Indians believed the rabbit god, Manabozho, was the incarnation of all life-giving energy - kind of like the Energizer bunny who just keeps going, and going and going . . .
The Easter Bunny may have sprung up from Bavaria, where, according to an old folk tale, a poor woman once painted eggs as Easter gifts for her children, then hid them in the woods. The children spotted a rabbit as they were playing and followed it into the woods where the basket of eggs was hidden. Finding the basket, they assumed the rabbit had left it for them, and the rest,as they say, is history.
The egg connection may have been bolstered by the English tradition of catching rabbits in an Easter contest. Whoever brought a rabbit to the church before 10 a.m. on Easter received 100 eggs for breakfast.
Whatever the origin, the Easter Bunny legend has caught the public's imagination. But he does have some competition.
In Australia, where non-native rabbits have wreaked havoc on the local vegetation, the Easter Bunny isn't as well-received as he is in the Western world. In fact, there's been a grassroots movement to overthrow him and replace the little pest with a less destructive representative of rebirth - the Easter bilby!
The bilby is a small, long-earred mammal who has been nearly eaten out of house and habitat by the rival bunnies. The bilbly movement, however, is unlikely to gain much acceptance beyond the Australian borders, particularly since the bilby is currently struggling for survival Down Under and exists nowhere else in the world.
In Europe, the Easter Bunny has several competitors. Not buying the concept of an egg-laying bunny, the ever-practical Swiss instead put their faith in the cuckoo to deliver their Easter eggs, and Czech children await an early morning visit from the Easter lark. Fortunate German children have an array of Easter creatures including gift-giving roosters, storks, and foxes as well as the traditional bunnies.
The Easter Bunny probably won't have to start worrying for a while about unemployment, though. So far, Cadbury's has no plans to begin production on chocolate Easter foxes.
El-ahrairah, as everybunny knows, is a great lapine hero and trickster. His many exploits and adventures, recorded in the classics Watership Down and its new sequel, Tales from Watership Down (see book review), have been passed down from generation to generation of bunnies.
Father and protector of all rabbits, El-ahrairah ("prince with a thousand enemies") risked his life to bring his people the sense of smell they needed to escape their enemies. But long before that, when all creatures were equal and lived together in peace, El-ahrairah let his people multiply out of control, causing the other creatures to complain to Firth, the sun god who created all life.
According to rabbit legend, Firth handled the problem by giving all other creatures - cats, dogs, foxes, weasels - an overwhelming desire to hunt and kill all rabbits. But he loved El-ahrairah for his humor and defiant spirit, so he gave him the gifts of powerful hind legs to run fast from his enemies and thump the alarm to his save people. The thousand enemies would always be there to hunt and kill rabbits. But first they had to catch them. As he gave El-ahrairah his gift, Firth promised the rabbit that if he would "be cunning and full of tricks . . . your people shall never be destroyed."
Even human legends acknowledge the great tradition of lapine trickery. Tales of the infamous Bre'r Rabbit, who tricked his way out of more than one sticky situation, were rooted in African legends of wily rabbit tricksters.
Medieval European rabbits and hares put their magic to more sinister uses by turning into witches from time to time, especially when the moon was full. But Eastern hares were apparently more benign. One compassionate hare said to have sacrificed his life for the Buddha was rewarded by being sent to the moon, and Hindu legends tell of a rabbit sitting in the lap of the moon god.
In the Chinese Zodiac, the Hare is a most fortunate sign, symbolizing long life and the powers of the moon. Though tricky, the hare is peace-loving and not born to be a fighter. But when threatened, he protects his home and family at all cost.
A thousand powerful enemies hunt the clever rabbit, but El-ahairah's people continue to prosper. As Firth promised, first they have to catch them.
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It was like a scene from "Night of the Living Dead."
The terrified couple spent the night, trapped in their home frantically
blocking up every possible opening. In a state of hysteria they
contacted Merlin Tuttle at the crack of dawn, desperate for help.
The evening before they had been attacked by a horde of demonic
bats, lurking on the front lawn.
A few judicious questions from bat expert Tuttle revealed the
devilish invaders to be a harmless group of migrating monarch
butterflies, resting peacefully in the couple's yard. The mere
idea of bats had caused the couple's terror. Silent, mysterious
creatures of the night, bats lurk in musty caves, swarming out
in the darkness to attack humans, spread disease, and suck the
blood of helpless victims.
Well, not exactly. The bat's ancestors filled the skies some 50
million years ago, and today's bat hasn't changed much, though
their numbers have dwindled. Still, nearly one quarter of all
mammals are bats - almost 1000 species in all. They live in every
kind of environment except the extreme deserts and polar regions,
but they no longer fill the night skies because we've invaded
and destroyed their habitats. Species vary from the tiny bumblebee
bat of Thailand, lighter than a penny, to Old World flying foxes
with wingspans up to 6 feet. Some have beautiful long angoralike
fur or coats of bright red, yellow, jet black and white. The butterfly
bat even sports a brightly patterned decorative coat. Ears come
in an astonishing variety of sizes and shapes, and facial features
range from the appealing flying fox to quite bizarre leaf nosed
and ghost faced bats.
Though bats can navigate in total darkness by "echolocation"
- their sophisticated radar system - they also have keen vision.
Contrary to myth, they never fly blindly into people's hair. Only
three species (all in Latin America) are bloodsuckers. But the
infamous vampire bat actually has a disappointingly bourgeois
life-style. They are known to engage in "reciprocal altruistic"
sharing of food and adopt orphan bats, and the monogamous couples
share hunting and childrearing duties. Most bats not don't suck
anyone's blood, they aren't even carnivorous. About 70 varieties
eat insects and some feed only on fruit and nectar.
Bats also rarely spread diseases. Rabies is rare among bats, and
unlike most infected mammals, rabid bats aren't aggressive. Healthy
bats normally never attack humans unless they feel threatened.
In fact, bats are very beneficial to us, especially in controlling
mosquitoes. One bat can eat up to 600 mosquitoes an hour. Some
species also help pollinate and disperse seeds of valuable tropical
crops, and they are vital to the reforestation of the tropical
rainforests.
America's Neighborhood Bats. Merlin D. Tuttle, 1988, University
of
Texas Press.
Bats of America. Roger W. Barbour & Wayne H. Davis, 1969.
University Press of Kentucky
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We've just read about a GREAT squirrely support group - The Squirrel Lovers Club.
Some of our fans, Gregg & Kathy Bassett (318 W. Fremont Ave.,
Elmhurst, IL 60126) started the club in August 1995, and now they've
got over 1200 human members. You can join the club for a mere
$16 annual fee or $36 for a 3-year membership and get a bimonthly
newsletter full of great stuff about US!! (and a squirrel lover's
t-shirt, too for just $14.95 - What a bargain!)
Squirreltown USA My backyard squirrels have been acting uppity ever since they overheard a news report on the amazing albino squirrels of Marionville, Missouri. The townsfolks are so proud of their colony of snowy white squirrels they've built them special squirrel houses, hand feed them regularly, and promote them as the town's main tourist attraction. Albinos rarely survive, but this hardy colony has thrived and driven the ordinary gray variety out of the township. Next I suppose my squirrels will be demanding gourmet nuts.
But apparently Marionville isn't the only community cultivating unusual squirrels. The Squirrel Lovers' Club newsletter recently reported on the pampered black squirrels of Marysville, Kansas. The town is so proud of their acrobatic citizens the town council made them the town's official mascots and guaranteed the little critters the pick of the black walnut crop . . . in addition to the gourmet feasts provided by the townfolks. The same newsletter announced the recent recognition of Hinsdale, Illinois' imported squirrel population with an annual Squirrel Day (April 6). The date commemorates the day in 1903 when then town president, Deming Preston, inspected Evanston's recently imported squirrels and decided they were just what Hinsdale needed to liven things up. Several dozen gray squirrels from Colorado and fox squirrels from Texas soon arrived by train, and . . . well, the rest is history.
Alien Invasion - Squirrel-style The embattled British
red squirrel has gained a powerful ally in its century-long struggle
against the tyranny of the bigger and bolder American grays who
invaded in the 19th century.
The tricky grays cleverly conned some unsuspecting Victorian Brits
into thinking they would be a harmless and pleasant addition to
the British countryside. But once safely established, the colonial
upstarts merrily multiplied, grabbing up all the tastiest nuts
and seeds as well as most of the native reds' territory.
With an estimated 2.5 million grays to a mere 160,000 or so reds,
the future looked grim for the British rodents. That is, until
the Joint Nature Conservation Committee entered the fray in defense
of the indigenous population. Using special feeders designed to
trap the heavier grays while the lightweight reds can snack and
run and contraceptive-laced nuts, and even shooting or poisoning
the troublesome grays, the Committee has launched an all-out offensive
campaign to free the British countryside from the paws of the
Yankee invaders.
Though the tide may have finally turned for the red army, the
grays aren't giving up without a struggle. Even now a pro-gray
group, the League Against Cruel Sports, has engaged the enemy
with a surprise attack on the validity of the reds' claim to pure
British ancestry. A spokeshuman for the group has accused the
so-called British squirrels of having Continental roots, and therefore
being no more deserving of British citizenship than the American
immigrants. The outcome of the raging squirrel wars remains uncertain.
Long ago, in the days before the People came, Gluskabe (the great Storyteller and helper of the Creator) gathered all the Animal People together to ask them how they felt about the arrival of the new ones. Great Bear was the first to come forward, and he didn't take the news very well. In fact, he reared up on his hind legs and roared in anger, vowing to tear the human beings apart and swallow them whole.
Back then, the bear was even bigger than today, and Gluskabe feared for the humans. He stroked Great Bear, making him smaller and smaller with each stroke. Great Bear ran into the forest. When it came time for Great Squirrel to come forward, he was even more fierce and angry than the others. He swore to chew up the humans and throw whole trees down to crush them.
Gluskabe wasn't happy! Again, he stroked Great Squirrel making him smaller and smaller, until he was only big enough to throw small twigs. But Squirrel was still very angry and very fierce. To this day, he tries to crush the humans as they walk under his trees, but Squirrel can only chatter in anger and toss small branches.
[Based on a Abenaki Indian legend, from Dog People. Native Dog Stories, Joseph Bruchac. Fulcrum Kids, Golden, CO, 1995]
They're destructive, quarrelsome, bad-tempered little backyard
bullies. They nest in your attic and chimneys, gnaw holes in your
roof, and swipe all the food you put out for the birds. Squirrels!
Who can resist their charms?
I admit, I'm hooked on the little rascals. I only invest in "squirrel-proof"
bird feeders to see how long it takes them to outwit the devices
- it's rarely more than a few minutes. Nature's most ingenious
acrobats, they have no trouble leaping over baffles or dining
while dangling upside down by their toenails. Squirrel watching
hasn't yet become a popular national pastime like birdwatching.
As far as I know, we squirrel fanciers haven't formed any clubs,
international networks, slick magazines and newsletters or enough
paraphernalia to support an industry. I've heard of no squirrel-watching
trips or expeditions. And it's true, the scruffy little tree rodents
aren't as colorful and exotic as many birds. They do have many
advantages, though. They're easy to spot and reasonably plentiful.
You don't need to spend hours pouring through field guides to
identify them - basically, a squirrel is a squirrel is a squirrel.
And their high-octane energy and gravity-defying antics make them
endlessly entertaining.
Squirrels have a versatile vocabulary, consisting of barks, chucking
sounds, squeals, scolding and tail flicking (which generally means
trouble for some other hapless squirrel). In my experience, a
loudly barking squirrel in my backyard generally means the birdfeeder
is empty. They get their messages across quite effectively. During
a recent spell of bad weather, when my backdoor was frozen shut
for a few days, my squirrels were so annoyed at the sight of the
empty feeder they ripped the whole thing off the tree and tossed
it on my back steps.
Their athletic skills are legendary. Squirrel expert Bill Adler,
in his manual on Outwitting Critters, says, "The squirrel
. . . can run, climb, and jump among branches and twigs of the
loftiest trees, employing risky arboreal acrobatics. . . . Squirrels
will travel from pole to pole along electrical and telephone wires,
occasionally on trees and houses, for city blocks without setting
foot on the ground." Unfortunately, in their rooftop travels,
they sometimes find a house that looks suitable for homesteading.
I believe I now have two squirrel families who've found the crawl
space under my roof very much to their liking, though the various
family members don't always enjoy each other's company entirely
acceptable. Recently, I've heard the suspicious gnawing sounds
of possible home renovations. As much as I love these wild and
wacky rodents, they do lose a lot of their natural charm when
they move indoors.
Tenant pauses to
register complaint about the overcrowded dining facilities. 
"I have come away from following the Ninemile wolves
convinced that to diminish their lives would be wicked; that
it would involve a diminishing of a significant force in the
world; that it would slow the earth's potential and cripple our
own species' ability to live with force; that without the Ninemile
wolves, and other wolves in the Rockies . . . the bright lights
of potential - of strength in the world - would grow dimmer."
[Ninemile Wolves]
The lights began to go out for wolves, in North America, when
the white man decimated the thundering herds of buffalo they
depended on. Cattle and sheep soon took over the land, and a
full-scale war was launched against the wolf. They were killed
by the thousands, by trapping, shooting, and poisoning until
the few survivors retreated over the Canadian border to wait
for better times.
Today, two species of wolves survive, the gray wolf and the red
wolf, but both are endangered throughout North America, Europe,
the Middle East and Asia. The red wolf, who once ranged the entire
eastern United States, has all but vanished, confined to refuges
on the North Carolina and Tennessee coast, under the protection
of the Red Wolf Recovery Plan.
Though wolves are now a protected species, they were extinct
in the U.S. for 40 years before they were declared endangered,
in 1973. Programs like the Yellowstone Park reintroduction project
have been plagued by delays and resistance from politicians,
some local farmers, and hunters, who see the wolves as competitors
for the deer and elk. But despite their bloodthirsty reputation,
no case of a wild healthy wolf killing a human has ever been
documented in America, and wolves are not a major threat to livestock.
Rick Bass talks about a "search image," a kind of seek-and-destroy
mindset in the pack's collective mind that guides them to a specific
target. A pack with a search image for moose may pass by a vulnerable
flock of sheep, unwary deer, and countless easier prey on their
quest for the one that matches their mental image. The pack apparently
teaches the new pups what is "food," and adults rarely
"experiment" with new diets.
Wolves are supreme hunters, with their powerful jaws and teeth
that can rip through thick fur and flesh and crush heavy bones.
They leave virtually nothing behind. But hunting is very dangerous.
Wolves can easily be mortally injured by the prey animals, which
are usually much larger than their attackers. The pack needs
to selects its prey carefully and work together like a precision
team.
The pack is everything to the wolf. In a way, a lone wolf is
only half a wolf. It may travel hundreds of miles in search of
another wolf, for companionship or to mate. With the possible
exception of humans, wolves are the most social of animals. The
pack hunts as a unit.
More About Wolves
All-American Wildlife The bald eagle has hogged all the glory of being our national emblem for over 200 years, now. It's about time he shared that honor with a few other deserving representatives. Paw Prints Post is proud to present our favorite contenders for the coveted title of All-American Animal Ambassadors.
BOBCAT
Ranging from Nova Scotia to the Yucatan, and from East to West Coast, th feisty bobcat has stood his ground while bigger, fiercer species have lost theirs.
Physically, he might be mistaken for a very large house cat - at least from a distance - but the 25-pound wildcat is ready to defend what's his with all the spitting ferocity of the jungle king.
One secret of this survivor's success is his ability to live in any habitat, from Florida's swamps to California's deserts or the mountains of Montana. One startled naturalist even reported a bobcat encounter 40 feet up a hemlock tree, when a hissing, lunging ball of feline fury greeted him as he peered over the edge of a large nest. And Bob is no finicky feline gourmet, either. He's ready to chow down on whatever the local "menu" has to offer.
But don't expect to run into one of the estimated 700,000 bobcats living in the United States today on your evening stroll. These smart little cats didn't get where they are today by advertising their presence. They prefer keeping a very low profile.PRAIRIE DOG
Bigger, louder, flashier denizens of the Midwestern plains may have gotten most of the press, but it was the gregarious, industrious little underground engineer of the prairies who really won the West for civilization - prairie dog civilization, that is.
Doglike in their love of good company and good times, the playful critters are actually architecturally sophisticated rodents who once constructed elaborate dog towns housing several thousand of the sociable beasties. Unfortunate clashes with ranchers, who failed to appreciate the impressive constructions on their grazing land, have severely reduced their numbers. But prairie dogs haven't retreated with their tails between their legs, and that's very good news for the many creatures of the prairie who depend on them.
Keeping the grass around their towns closely cropped, they encourage a variety of shrubs and other plant species to grow. About three times as many animals and twice as many species of wildlife inhabit their colonized habitats than dog-free zones. One major fan of the prairie dog is the endangered blackfooted ferret, who lives only in the dog's burrows and depends on strong, healthy doggie communities for its very existence, according to ferret expert Dean Biggins.
Prairie dogs - so much more than just a pretty face.
BEAVER
While the prairie dog is heavily into urban planning, the beaver is more of an aquatic specialist. World-renowned for their formidable dams and sturdy, water-proof floating lodges, the skillful rodents have a dramatic impact on their environments wherever they settle in.
The personification of purposeful industriousness and perseverance, the hard-working little homebodies are also symbolic of gentleness and wisdom in many cultures. Cheyenne legend revered the beaver as father of all animals. Already serving as an important symbol of Canada and the emblem of the state of Oregon, the unassuming beaver could capably take on the extra duties of U.S. animal Ambassador, without dropping a twig in the process.COYOTE
Wile E. Coyote, Road Runner's hopelessly inept archenemy, is not a good representative of his cunning kind. As the Trickster of many Native American myths, Coyote's achievements include stealing fire and the daylight; bringing pain, death, and evil into the world; teaching the animals arts and crafts; and creating the Milky Way.
Coyote has been called God's dog, Medicine dog, Brother, and Little Wolf. Chinook Indians believed the different tribes came from feathers woven together by Coyote. With his magical powers, Coyote taught man about hunting and useful plants, filled the rivers with salmon for man to catch, and made the buffalo nearsighted so hunters could get close enough to spear them.
It's not so far-fetched to imagine this clever canine has magical skills. Ranchers have used traps, poison, dynamite, helicopter hunts, and a full-scale government-sanctioned campaign to exterminate them, but Coyote prevailed. When their canine cousin, the Wolf, was sent packing to Canada, Coyote remained and thrived in the West.
In the East, coyotes have been spotted in New York City, Philadelphia's suburbs, and many other unlikely spots. Pushing south from Canada and possibly mixing with wolves, the Eastern coyote is bigger and stronger, but just as elusive as his Western relatives. As a Pennsylvania trapper, who recently encountered one just outside Philadelphia, put it, "You will never get rid of the coyote. Man is simply going to have to learn to live with them, because coyotes are here to stay."
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Papa was a great teacher. Eternally patient and gentle, he
took each new batch of fledglings under his broad wings and shared
his hard-won wisdom. In the spring, we watched proudly as his
class took wing, well armed with the skills they'd need to fly
high and raise their own brood some day.
When he was first carried into the Aark, a Bucks County wildlife
rehab center run by Mary Jane Stretch, the large Toulouse goose
had been rescued from a multi-vehicle pileup on I-95 with two
badly broken wings. Once his wings had healed, Papa became a permanent
resident, and before long he found himself drawn to the cages
of orphaned baby geese and ducks being cared for at the center.
They gaggled at each other through the mesh cages until the chicks
were old enough to be let out. When they stepped out, Papa was
waiting for them, ready to escort them to all the best ponds,
show them how to waddle up and down the ramps, leading them around
the grounds in an orderly line by day and helping the volunteers
round them up and return them to their safe quarters every night.
In the spring and fall, many of the youngsters would join a flock
of migrating geese heading north or south, and Papa would waddle
along the ground following them as far as he could. It was a sad
time for him, but a new batch of babies was always coming along.
Papa nurtured and tutored his surrogate families for more than
16 years, though in his final spring his class was considerably
smaller, and his unsteady gait made it hard to catch up to his
wandering brood.
With dignity and grace to the end, Papa finally went to his rest,
but his memory and his legacy remain behind in the hearts of the
human volunteers he worked beside for so many years. He was the
best teacher the Aark ever had.
Papa was an exceptional parent by any standard, but many animal
dad's play important roles in raising the kids. Male members of
the canine family are frequently doting parents. The birth of
a litter in a typical wolf pack is a time of great joy for the
whole community. The proud pop can often waits outside the den
and celebrates the arrival with excited, enthusiastic howling.
Like their domestic canine counterparts, fox fathers love to play
with the kids. Researchers have observed many a fox father and
pups engaged in lively games. But dad also tirelessly hunts and
carries home food to his mate who has to keep the newborn pups
warm and safe in the den. And, of course, he takes a firm paw
in teaching the youngsters all the foxly skills they'll need to
survive in the world.
The hardworking beaver father pitches in with preparations for
the new arrivals along with everyone else in the family. Days
before the delivery, everyone helps fix up the lodge, and the
father and one of the yearlings form a triangle with the mother,
most likely to protect the kits as they're born. After the big
event, dad makes endless trips to forage extra food and bedding
for the newborns, clipping tall grass and carrying it back to
the lodge. Once the kits emerge from the lodge, father initiates
them into the family business of aquatic engineering and construction,
accompanying them to the worksite and demonstrating their highly
skilled gnawing and building techniques.
Orphaned male songbirds, according to some researchers, may be
at a distinct disadvantage in the mating game if dad isn't around
to teach them an impressive repertoire of vocalizations. A study
of Chaffinches concluded that nestlings raised in isolation never
achieved the song proficiency of those who grew up surrounded
by the sounds of cheerful Chaffinch melodies. And an inarticulate
songbird is likely to remain a solitary songbird.
Bringing up baby is hard work for any species, but with dad pulling
his weight, it can be a lot easier.
Lily Pond. Four Years with a Family of Beavers, Hope Ryden,
Morrow.
For the Love of Wild Things, Mary Jane Stretch and Phyllis Hobe,
Stackpole Books
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With two porcine box office hits in 1995, the Chinese Year
of the Pig was quite a success for pigs and their many human fans.
Babe - rapidly becoming the most famous porker or all time - is
still hoging the limelight, grabbing up Golden Globes and Oscar
nominations left and right.
The pigs will be a tough act to follow, but rodent lovers are
confident that the resourceful rat is more than equal to the task
as the Year of the Rat gets underway. I was born in the Year of
the Rat, myself, which no doubt explains my fondness for the lovable
rascals. In general, though human-rodent relations have been somewhat
rocky. We've spared no expense in our no-holds-barred, centuries-long
war on our diminutive opponents, but our best efforts have failed
to stem the tide of rodent incursions into our domain. In fact,
nothing seems to inspire these wily fur balls more than a good
challenge.
Rat history predates the Ice Age. The crafty critters can probably
trace roots back to Southeast and Central Asia, but their natural
curiosity and adventurers' spirit have carried them all over the
planet - with a little help from human travelers and traders who
frequently, if unintentionally, provided free transportation.
Wild rats today come in two basic varieties: Rattus rattus
and Rattus norvegicus. Our domesticated companions are
descendants of the latter group.
Despite its undeserved bad rep, the rat has a lot to recommend
it as an urban pet. Unlike their wild relatives, rats are usually
accepted as tenants by most landlords, as long as they come equipped
with a cage. Rats don't annoy neighbors by barking all day, constantly
demand to be let out then back in, or require walks on dark and
stormy nights. They're seldom finicky about their diet. They can
be easily and cheaply provided with a stimulating environment
in even the smallest apartment and are quite capable of entertaining
themselves in their quarters without demolishing the furniture
while you're at work or school. With good care, a healthy rat
can be expected to live for 2 to 5 years, and the little companions
are clean, intelligent, friendly, and highly entertaining. we
wish them all happiness and success in their special year.
Rat Resources
American Fancy Rat and Mouse Assoc., 9230 64th St., Riverside,
CA 92509.
Northeast Rat and Mouse Club International, 20 Oak Lane, Sterling,
VA 20165.
Rat Web sites: Go to Favorite Websites.
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