[Note: This is the fortieth sample from my rough draft of a
far from finished new book, Wild, Free, & Happy. The Search field on the right side will find
words in the full contents of all rants and reviews. These samples are not freestanding
pieces. They will be easier to
understand if you start with sample 01, and follow the sequence listed HERE
— if you have some free time.]
SACRED
PREDATORS
Limits
to Growth
Garrett
Hardin revealed some fundamental concepts about growth and limits. These concepts are considered to be heresies
by our culture, which is tormented by toxic superstitions, like our fervent blind
faith in perpetual growth. Santa Claus
is real, and he’ll be back again tomorrow, and the next day, and forever — a
never-ending barrage of cool toys that we’ll fool around with for a while, and
then send away to the majestic Landfill Mountains. Hardin, like Malthus, was a naughty heretic
because he stated the obvious — all growth has limits. A campfire will die when it runs out of wood
to burn. A city will decompose when its grocery
stores shut down. An industrial
civilization will go belly up when its energy sources sputter.
Big Mama Nature is amazing.
She has created a sacred dance of growth and limits, eaters and eaten,
parasites and hosts. Hardin noted that every
species produces more offspring than is needed to merely replace mommy and
daddy. This surplus allows for expansion
when resources are abundant, or more habitat becomes available — until
expansion slams into limits. A swarm of
a billion locusts will feast on delicious wheat fields until there is nothing
left to eat, game over. In the realm of
our culture’s magical thinking, there simply are no limits, we can believe
whatever we wish. “Just think a happy
thought and you can fly!”
The cool thing here is that producing surplus offspring is a vital
component of the sacred dance, the secret of its success. Surplus critters provide essential
nourishment for the predators that depend on them. It’s an elegant balancing act. The prey cannot suffer from population outbursts,
because when their numbers surge, this leads their predators to increase in
number — more bunnies… more coyotes. Likewise,
the expansion of predators is limited by the availability of their prey.
The balancing act does not depend on predators alone. Limits to growth can also be set by
starvation, disease, violent conflict, climate juju, and sudden miracles of
mass enlightenment that inspire voluntary self-restraint (just kidding!). Unfortunately, in our culture, voluntary
self-restraint is not seen as a virtue, but rather as clear evidence of a
feeble mind, or an infestation of brain worms.
Hardin concluded that humans have cleverly (unfortunately)
bypassed numerous limits to growth by temporarily turbocharging food production
(instead of family planning), by continuous campaigns of predator eradication (both
man-eaters and livestock varmints), by a deep reduction in death rates via the
resource-guzzling technologies of modern medicine and public sanitation
(intensive death control without intensive birth control), by continuously
boosting our energy supply (wood, coal, oil, natural gas, nuclear, etc.), and
on and on.
We’re getting near to the bottom of the bag of magic tricks
for keeping the plague of perpetual growth on life support. Not every wish comes true. It won’t be long before humankind slams into limits
as mighty and immovable as the Himalayas.
Billions of radicalized believers in perpetual growth are tap-dancing into
an era of titanic surprises. Big Mama
Nature spits and hisses as she works, “So, y’all don’t believe in limits, eh? Well, hang on to yer arses! Limits don’t care what you believe.”
Predator
Eradication
In the good old days of our hunter-gatherer ancestors, the
entire family of life consisted of wild plants and animals, and wild humans
were just one of the gang. Back then, if
a wolf pack ripped up a young aurochs, nobody cared. Predation was perfectly normal and
healthy. When some cultures transitioned
into herding domesticated critters, the game changed. Those cattle and sheep had become my personal
property, and the wolves had no right to molest them. But, of course, they ate them anyway. Because of this, wild predators ceased being
relatives, and became intolerable enemies, noxious pests that had to be
exterminated.
Alfred
Crosby discussed the colonization of Australia. Grazing animals from Europe were introduced
into an exotic ecosystem, far away from the predators, parasites, and diseases
that had limited their growth in the old country. With access to lots of vegetation, they grew
to full size quicker than usual, and produced more offspring. Because there were zero wolves, a single
shepherd could oversee thousands of grazing animals. Wild dingoes did kill livestock, but far
fewer than Old World predators had.
Evolution did not genetically prepare hominins to be apex
predators. It was cleverness,
innovation, and spooky technology that enabled our ancestors to become peculiar
imitations of genuine, natural born, apex predators (lions, tigers, bears,
etc.). These abilities also enabled our
ancestors to better defend themselves against attacks from natural born large
carnivores. A mob of angry hominins with
spears was the last thing many predators saw in their final moments of life. This success reduced our losses to predation,
which weakened a traditional limit to growth, and disturbed an ancient
ecological balancing act. More hominins
could exist, grow up to be hunters, and kill more game and carnivores.
Over the passage of centuries, trends shifted. There were far fewer wild carnivores, and far
more livestock and humans. Bye-bye
predators. Hello human tsunami. It continues to this day. The U.S. has been heavily invested in
“predator control” for more than 100 years.
Today, we invest $100 million per year in Wildlife Services, a program
of the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA).
In just 2018, Wildlife Services killed 68,186 coyotes, 1,002 bobcats,
375 mountain lions (cougars), 338 bears, 357 wolves, and so on.
Today, the large carnivores of America have been sharply
reduced in number, and are primarily confined to isolated regions. In my long life, I once saw a flicker of
movement in a forest that may have been a cougar. I’m not sure.
Most folks are more likely to win the lottery than to have a life threatening
meeting with a large carnivore in the wild.
Out in the forests and fields, we now enjoy an unnatural sense of
safety, despite being large, juicy, slow moving meatballs. We’re something like children in a nursery,
where nothing can hurt us. The lions,
tigers, and bears in our infantile lives are soft fuzzy stuffed animals. We are so far from our original home in the
living world, and our ancestors’ time-proven way of celebrating life.
Kaibab
Deer
The Kaibab Plateau lies north of the Grand Canyon in
Arizona. Prior to 1905, it was home to
about 4,000 deer. President Theodore
Roosevelt loved the deer. After a
century of intense gun slinging craziness, the plateau was essentially the last
surviving remnant of America’s once abundant wildlife. In 1906, he created a national game preserve
to protect them. Most of the cattle,
horses, and sheep were then deported, because careless overgrazing had
rubbished the vegetation.
By the time the preserve was created, wolves had already been
heavily exterminated by ranching interests.
Now, deer hunting was banned, and the Forest Service declared war on the
remaining wild predators. Between 1907
and 1939, they killed 500 bobcats, 7,388 coyotes, 20 wolves, and 816 mountain
lions. As the deer herd grew, the
bureaucrats glowed with pride at their success.
By 1924, the deer herd had skyrocketed to about 100,000
animals. Vegetation was stripped off the
land, and animals began starving. By
1939, the land was seriously damaged, and only 10,000 remained. This tragedy fascinated Aldo
Leopold, who worked for the Forest Service.
He wrote that the deer live in fear of the wolves, but the mountain
lives in fear of the deer.
This is a classic example of a trophic cascade, an imbalance
that radiates through an ecosystem. With
primary predators eliminated, grazing animals exploded in number, stripped the vegetation
off the land, and then starved. This was
a top down cascade. There are also
bottom up cascades. For example, if
extended drought nukes the forage, the herbivores starve, and so do their
predators. If potato blight rots the
spuds, peasants experience a die-off, along with their lice and fleas.
The Bible’s Old Testament emerged in a Hebrew culture of
herders and farmers. In their mindset,
the livestock they owned were valuable property, and the wild predators that
killed them were monsters from Satan.
Behold their skills at magical thinking: “The wolf and the lamb shall
feed together, and the lion shall eat straw like the bullock: and dust shall be
the serpent’s meat. They shall not hurt
nor destroy in all my holy mountain, saith the LORD.” Wow!
That plan would be a death sentence for the holy mountain.
Predator
Restoration
William
Stolzenburg wrote about the benefits of wolves. American couch potatoes, ranchers, and
hunters really, really hate Bambi-killing wild predators, like big bad
wolves. In 1925, officials in
Yellowstone National Park succeeded in exterminating the last surviving wolf,
and a trophic cascade was launched. Naturally,
elk exploded in number, forcing park officials to scramble. Some were captured and moved, others were
exterminated. In 1995, shifting public
attitudes inspired the reintroduction of wolves into the park.
Wolves came to the rescue of damaged stream and wetland
habitats. During their 70 year absence,
red deer had substantially stripped away the vegetation along waterways. With fewer trees protecting the waters,
marine life was more vulnerable to predators.
With the return of wolves, more and more deer became Happy Meals, and
the surviving deer decided to migrate to less accessible locations. Before long, the willow people returned,
shade returned to streams, overheated waters cooled off, and the fish were
overjoyed by the great healing provided by the wolves.
Wolves came to the rescue of struggling forests. During their absence, forest regeneration
declined, because elk gobbled up too many seedlings and saplings. The youngest cottonwoods were 60 years
old. Wolves totally enjoy lunch dates
with tree-killing elk, much to the delight of the tree people and other forest
dwellers.
Wolves came to the rescue of antelope, who were in decline, because
coyotes ate too many young antelopes.
Wolves were delighted to dine on their coyote cousins. Within three years, half of the coyotes had
become Happy Meals. Consequently, far
fewer baby antelope were killed, which led to a recovery of their numbers. A reduction of coyotes was also a gift to
other animals, like rabbits, mice, foxes, weasels. Wolves also benefitted scavengers, like
bears, ravens, eagles, and others, who were happy to dine on partially consumed
carcasses. Predators are essential
components of every healthy wild ecosystem.
Stolzenburg noted that American housecats annually kill an
estimated one billion wild mammals and hundreds of millions of birds. I live in neighborhood with many lonely
humans who keep cats for companionship.
Here, birdsong is minimal. A mile
away, in a cat free riverside forest, the bird symphonies at sunset are
magnificent. Where coyotes have managed
to survive, they have become great cat lovers, much to the delight of the birds.
Delicious
Two-Legged Meatballs
Once upon a time, while wandering through a dusty musty 100
year old book, I came across the story of Cormac mac Airt (son of Art), a High
King of Ireland. His story comes from a
misty realm that blurs together legend and history. It’s full of bloody feuds, fairies, druids,
and wolves. Some say he maybe lived somewhere
between A.D. 150 and 366. When Cormac
was born, the druid Olc Aiche sang five spells over the boy, to protect him
from the five primary dangers in life: slaying, drowning, fire, sorcery, and
wolves.
It was striking to be reminded that there was a time when,
every day of your life, there was a decent chance that you might have an
unscheduled lunch date with a hungry wolf pack.
In Grimm’s
Fairy Tales, the word “wolf” appears 72 times. If the records in my family tree went back
10,000 years, many thousands of folks in the extended families of my ancestors
must have been killed and eaten by large carnivores — a perfectly normal,
natural, wholesome event.
Michael Bright wrote an entire book of stories about
man-eating carnivores — whole chapters on wolves, snakes, tigers, lions,
crocodiles, and others. Wolf packs in
Paris killed 40 in 1450. British sources
noted 624 humans killed by wolves in Banbirpur, India in 1878. In 1996-97, more than 50 children were killed
by wolves in Uttar Pradesh, India.
In 1769, 400 were killed by tigers in the area around
Bhiwapur, India. In 1922, tigers in
India killed 1,603 people. Sy
Montgomery wrote a book about the tigers that live in the mangrove swamps
of the Sundarbans region, near the border of India and Bangladesh. She wrote, “Here the tiger is feared but not
hated; here it is worshipped but not loved.
For the tiger is a sacred creature who rules an enchanted land.” During a six-year period in the late
nineteenth century, Sundarbans tigers ate 4,218 people. In the 1990s, they were still killing hundreds
every year.
In Tanzania, a pride of 17 lions in a game preserve by Lake
Nyasa killed 1,000 to 1,500 people over 15 years. John Gunther reported that five hundred
Africans were killed by lions near Ubena, Tanganyika in 1946 and 1947. Once upon a time, the original range of
modern lions was enormous — most of Africa, the Mediterranean basin, the Near
East, the Middle East, and much of India.
[MAP]
Today, in the twenty-first century, tool-using humans have been
the big animals for thousands of years, arrogantly gloating like New York
billionaires. Most humans now spend
their entire lives without ever once experiencing a real fear of being attacked
and eaten. A wildcat that innocently trots
past a school must die. Naturally,
becoming the dominant animal has done quite a head job on our perception of
reality. It has given birth to the
belief in human supremacy, which rubbishes our ancient intimate relationship
with the family of life — the relationship that nurtured the evolution of our
species, and made us who we are.
Because of this attitude, as long as industrial civilization
exists, I can’t imagine how humankind could ever be persuaded to demand the
abolition of predator eradication, and allow predators to fully recover, and
freely return to their sacred occupation, maintaining balance in the family of
life.
It is clear, with absolute certainty, that the explosive
growth of industrial civilization will smash into limits it can no longer sneak
around — limits of nonrenewable resources like fossil energy, mineral ores,
topsoil, ancient freshwater aquifers, effective antibiotics and vaccines, and
so on. There are folks alive today who
will witness that collision. Eventually,
humankind will run out of manufactured ammunition for their weapons, and other
defensive tools. At that point, mighty Superman
shrivels into a far more vulnerable primate meatball. Joyful large carnivores will celebrate the
dawn of a great revival, and a long overdue process of healing will begin.
Dinofelis
Long, long ago, our hominin ancestors were humble meatballs. Baz Edmeades
work introduced me to an interesting story about a large prehistoric cat that
apparently loved hominins so much that our ancestors may have been his favorite
lunch. In 1924, Raymond Dart discovered
the remains of Australopithecus africanus in South Africa. It appeared to be the missing link between
ape and man. European scholars soiled
their britches. Africa? A continent of primitive savages!?? This was profoundly embarrassing and
depressing.
White society traditionally assumed that our holy species had
originally evolved in a more dignified region, somewhere much closer to London,
probably. This was reinforced by Charles
Dawson’s gratifying discovery of the missing link between ape and man. Its skull was found near Piltdown village in
Sussex, England in 1912. It was a
hoax. White folks had a good cry.
Dart had lived through the horrific bloodbath of World War
One. Studying the bone collection in the
Swartkrans cave of South Africa, Dart observed that many skulls had been
damaged by powerful impacts. Based on
this evidence, and his wartime memories, he concluded that our early ancestors
were insanely violent, and probably cannibals too.
Years later, C. K. (“Bob”) Brain studied the same cave. He concluded that the ancestors had not
actually been killing each other.
Instead, they appeared to have been a favorite source of nourishment for
large cats and hyenas. Early hominins
were rather small, and probably not masters of self-defense. For large carnivores, Australopithecus
was a much easier prey than speedy antelopes.
Brain observed that numerous hominin bones were found in the
cave, but far fewer antelopes and other critters, which seemed weird. Who killed them? His primary suspect was the large feline
carnivore Dinofelis,
nicknamed the dirk-toothed cat. Brain
strongly suspected that it had specialized in hunting our hominin ancestors. He found some Paranthropus skulls with holes punched
in them that exactly matched the long upper canine teeth of the big cat.
Dinofelis had lived well for several million years, until
the emergence of Homo
erectus, the first hominin having human-like body proportions, and an
extra-large brain for its body size.
Erectus was a major turning point in our evolutionary saga. Erectus-like critters migrated from Africa
into Asia and Europe, and were big game hunters. The type found in Europe is called Homo heidelbergensis. They were killing woodland rhinos in
Boxgrove, England 500,000 years ago. Erectus
was likely a more challenging prey for Dinofelis. The dirk-toothed cats went extinct about 1.4
million years ago. Without this limit to
their growth, the hominin mobs continued to expand.
What would the world be like if Dinofelis had not
blinked out? What if they had prevented
the emergence of large-brained Erectus, and kept our hominin ancestors inside
Africa? Would the planet today be in
perfect health, home to billions of sabertooths, cave bears, woolly mammoths,
giant sloths, Irish elk, and on and on?
Would your soul be living a condor today, soaring above the mountains?
Circle
Dance of Nutrients
Derrick
Jensen, in his book on human supremacy, pointed out that every student in
our culture is taught the notion of a pyramid-shaped food chain. Apex predators (like humans) are placed at
the pinnacle of the pyramid, and at the bottom are the wee ones that can only
be seen with microscopes. It’s no
surprise that this hierarchy resembles the hierarchy of power in
civilizations. Jensen rejected this
model. He sees the family of life as a
process of cycles within cycles. The wee
ones are no less important than the large carnivores. “You eat and you will be eaten. That’s life.
Get over it.” A Cheyenne proverb
said it like this: “Let us all be meat, to nourish one another, so that we all
may grow.”
Paul Shepard
wrote that we spend our lives in a grand and mysterious drama called, “Now you
eat me.” Life lives on death. Evolution created a number of large carnivore
species that are larger, stronger, and faster than humans. Without tools and fire, we were helpless
sitting ducks. At birth, we are second-
or third-class predators. Without tools,
hominins would have likely gone extinct prior to the emergence of Erectus,
Neanderthal, or Sapiens. But we had
tools, and we persisted. Many large
carnivore species have been driven to extinction. Hominins played some role in this, by
directly killing the predators, or by depleting the game animals they depended
on.
Val
Plumwood was an Australian environmental philosopher. One fine day in 1985, she hopped in a canoe,
and paddled around in a lovely national park.
She was quite surprised when a large crocodile knocked her into the
water, and violently pulled her underwater.
It was a mind-blowing experience.
This can’t be happening! I am a
human being! She nearly died.
The crocodile’s sharp teeth gave her a sudden and memorable
lesson about an important fact of life.
All life is food. I am meat. In an ecosystem, “we live the other’s death,
die the other’s life.” Our bodies belong
to the ecosystem, not to ourselves.
Vegetarians believe that only animals have souls. We must dine on nothing but soulless
food. This builds a concrete wall across
the family of life, separating the haves from the have-nots. Plumwood says bullshit! “All our food is souls.” “Our bodies flow with the food chain… they do
not belong to us; they belong to all.”
She chose to be a vegetarian, not because eating meat was wrong, but
because factory farmed meat was a spiritual abomination. Domesticated animals are raised in jam-packed
concentration camps, isolated from the wild world, and raised solely to be
edible commodities — nothing but meat.
She believed that the monstrous process de-souled them.
Plumwood detested modern burial customs, which she saw as a
weird component of “heavenism,” the belief that our brief time on Earth is like
a stay in a cheap dirty motel. Our true
home is in a heavenly paradise, far from Earth.
We bury our dead in coffins, to better preserve their bodies, until angels
come to carry them away to their eternal home.
The objective is to prohibit the normal and natural recycling of the nutrients
within the corpse.
In our culture, we place grandpa’s well-dressed corpse in a
sturdy coffin, and bury him deep in the ground, well below the upper topsoil
where countless tiny living things work tirelessly to transform organic rubbish
into nutritious compost. Rich folks
sometimes entirely enclose the coffin in a concrete vault. God forbid that a mob of hungry worms should
have a magnificent banquet, celebrating grandpa’s life, and forwarding his
nutrients to the future generations of all species. The body you live in today is made of
nutrients recycled countless times, over millions of years, from the dawn of life.
The civilization we live in is manmade. We consume food mostly made from domesticated
plants and animals, mostly from elsewhere, that is processed, transported, and
sold by complex energy-guzzling industrial systems. We do not roam across the surrounding land,
hunting and foraging, singing and dancing.
Our lives are largely isolated from direct intimate contact with the local
ecosystem we sleep in. Civilization is
like a walled fortress we live within that keeps us isolated from nature. In a sense, it’s like a strong coffin.
Other cultures do a far better job of composting corpses. In sky burial, corpses are left on the ground
for the vultures to eat. This was done
by folks like the Tibetans, Western Algonquians, and Zoroastrian communities in
India. Similarly, Walter McClintock
wrote that the Blackfeet recycled their dead by placing their corpses on
scaffolds built in trees, called death lodges.
John Gunther wrote that the Bakutu people of the
Congo recycled corpses by laying them on termite hills.
Once upon a time,
even the prim and proper English recycled the dead. Barry Cunliffe wrote about excavations of
prehistoric sites in Wessex. For several
thousand years, until about 1000 B.C., corpses were exposed in special
locations, where hungry teams of wild scavengers and composters could feast on
them. Leftover bones were buried in pits
or ditches. The official word for this
custom of exposure was “excarnation.”
The Maasai are a tribe of African cattle herders who live primarily
on meat, milk, and blood. From their
perspective, tilling the soil is an enterprise that is totally beneath their
dignity. They won't even break the sod
to bury their loved ones. Paul Spencer
described how they recycled their dead.
The corpse was rubbed with animal fat.
Then it was taken outdoors, placed beneath a tree away from the village,
and left there for the hyenas and other scavengers. Usually it was gone by the next morning. Joseph Thomson added, “To bury a corpse
would, they think, be to poison the soil; it must be thrown to the wild beasts
without ceremony.” A side benefit was
that well-fed hyenas were less likely to molest their livestock.
Knud Rasmussen described the Inuit customs in Greenland. In an ecosystem where the ground was frozen
solid, graves could not be dug for the dead.
Corpses were buried under a pile of rocks, where they would eventually
decompose, and return to the ecosystem. Knud
met Merqusaq, an elderly native who told him about a cold dark winter long ago,
when their clan ran out of food, and hunger set in. People starved, some died, and were
eaten. “I saw them eat my father and my
mother. I was too young and could not
stop them.” When they ran out of
corpses, they decided to kill Merqusaq and eat him. He struggled to escape, and lost an eye in
the process. Cannibalism was sometimes a
necessary practice in this extremely harsh land, where the survival of the group’s
most essential people was job #1. Boys
too young to hunt were expendable.
Asteroid
Children
About 66 million years ago, the Chicxulub impactor (an
asteroid or other space object) slammed into the Yucatan Peninsula of
Mexico. It may have been up to 50 miles
(81 km) in diameter, and was moving at 12 miles (20 km) per second. It released billions of tons of sulfur which
acidified the oceans. Intense acid rain
probably nuked forests. Dust blocked out
the sun, altered the climate, and blindsided ecosystems. After enjoying 160 million years on Earth,
the dinosaurs went extinct, except for some of the winged ones who were the
ancestors of today’s birds.
Much of the Earth was tropical in the dinosaur era. Small mammals had existed throughout the epoch,
and some survived the sudden transition.
With the warmth-loving cold-blooded dinosaurs gone, a niche opened up
for large mammals, warm-blooded critters better able to survive in cooler
climates. If the Chicxulub catastrophe
had not happened, you and I might be happy lizards today. Peter
Ward wrote that “we are the children of the asteroid.”
Andrew
Bard Schmookler pointed out that in the big history of the Earth, the
colossal catastrophes have usually been caused by stuff like asteroids,
volcanoes, climate swings, and so on.
The catastrophe we’re living in today is called civilization, and it
emerged from within the family of life. The
mass extinction event we’re living in today is the largest since the asteroid
strike. It’s driven by a whirlwind of ambition,
innovation, ignorance, and illusions.
We are the only animal to cause a mass extinction, to
exterminate entire forests, to dam the flow of major rivers, to drill deep into
the Earth to extract sequestered carbon, to drain ancient aquifers, to fill the
atmosphere with so much crud that the climate is heating and glaciers are
melting. How smart is that?
Edward Abbey concluded, “Man is literally undoing the work of
organic evolution.” Human numbers are
growing explosively, while all other apes are in decline. As the populations of many wild animals are
falling, the number of domesticated critters is soaring. Selective breeding has fine-tuned them to
optimally serve human needs. Most of
them depend on humans for their survival, few would be able to survive for long
in the wild.
Man’s
Best Friend
In an earlier chapter, I mentioned Paul Shepard’s view that
the domestication of dogs was a daunting turning point in the human saga. Recently, that notion snapped into sharper
focus for me. I was reading about Knud
Rasmussen’s visit to Greenland in 1903–1904.
He met Maisanguaq, who told him a bear story. “Bears know everything and hear everything
that people say.” Sometimes they shape
shift into human form. An Inuit woman
once came upon a mysterious dwelling and went inside. She quickly hid when the bears returned
home. She listened to them talking about
humans. “We cannot stand against them,
for they bar the way for us with their dogs and they kill us with their
arrows.”
Indeed! When a bear is
surrounded by vicious snarling dogs, the advantage goes to the human
hunter. Without the dogs, the big strong
bear would be much safer, and the smaller weaker hunter would be in greater
danger. Louis
Liebenberg wrote about the San. It
was far easier for them to hunt gemsbok with dogs, because there was a point in
the chase where the tired prey stopped, faced off the mongrels, and the hunter
killed it (deer also eventually stop, face their attackers, and
surrender). Dogs were rewarded with the
guts and leftovers.
Humans are not as fast as many large game animals. Dogs will chase anything that moves, and they
can run quickly. They have a phenomenal
sense of smell, so they can easily follow prey that are not visible. During a high speed pursuit, they repeatedly
bark so the hunter knows where to go (wolves don’t constantly bark like dogs
do). Once dogs had treed a raccoon, it
was easy for the hunter to kill it. Dogs
could find the dens of hibernating bears buried under the snow. Sleepy bears were easy kills.
Bottom line: when working together, the dog-human team could
find, kill, and eat much more game. This
was far from a common scheme in the family of life, especially at such a large
scale.
¶ Tim Flannery wrote that we selectively bred domesticated
animals to better suit our needs. This
process created unusual new organisms that had little or no chance of surviving
in the wild, away from the human sphere.
By mastering the art of conjuring useful mutants, humans “became the
most powerful evolutionary force.” We no
longer had to spend lots of time wandering around in search of game. We could hold the livestock we owned in
confinement, and accumulate their offspring.
Animals having the most desirable traits were the most likely to be
retained as breeders.
The success of animal domestication greatly increased our
food resources, and swept aside a number of traditional limits to growth. Of course, our reckless joyride in breaking
the laws of nature was perfectly unsustainable, and we are deep in karmic debt. One way or another, Big Mama Nature will
guide what remains of the terribly bruised and beaten family of life onto a
much needed path of healing.
Wikipedia provides a lengthy scientific discussion on the
origin of the domestic dog, and it is a bewildering hell broth of conflicting
theories that will leave your head spinning.
You will find that dogs were domesticated somewhere between 15,000 and
40,000 years ago, at a location that few agree on, somewhere in temperate
Eurasia, between Western Europe and Siberia.
Keep these dates in mind as you read the following paragraph.
Humans began migrating into Eastern Europe around 36,000
years ago, and arrived in Portugal around 34,000 years ago. Wikipedia listed the extinct animals of
Europe. They include cave bear 27,500
B.C., cave hyena 11,000 B.C., cave lion 10,000 B.C., grass eating rhino 10,000
B.C., Irish elk 5000 B.C., scimitar-tooth cat 10,000 B.C., woolly mammoth 2000
B.C., and woolly rhino 10,000 B.C.
Humans and dogs entered the Americas around 13,000 years ago, at which
point an extreme spasm of megafauna extinctions followed. (Dogs had nothing to do with the extinctions
in dog-free Australasia.)
Certainly, no large animals were driven to extinction by dogs
alone, but it would seem very likely that they were willing accomplices in many
hunting adventures. Dogs were not
natural born apex predators, and neither were humans without weapons. But the combo of humans, weapons, and dogs
was effective at killing large game, a bit too effective. Over time, the combo grew even more powerful
with the addition of horses, and later guns.
Limits retreated.
¶ Herders had a serious hatred for the wolves who killed
their dimwitted livestock. Large strong
dogs were bred and trained to kill wolves.
By around the third century B.C., Irish wolfhounds were on duty. Much later, the Irish used them as war dogs, to
control the Norman terrorists. Two
wolfhounds could knock an armored Norman knight off his horse, down to where he
could be ethically euthanized.
War dogs were used by the Egyptians, Greeks, Persians, Alans,
Slavs, Britons, and many others. Romans
had platoons of war dogs with spiked collars and chain mail armor. Prior to battle, they were deliberately underfed,
and then they were released as the first wave of attack. Their Molossus war dogs were unbelievably
vicious, but they were wimpy compared to the broad-mouthed war dogs of the
Britons, whose mastiffs could grow up to 200 pounds (91 kg).
Columbus brought war dogs to the New World in 1493, to
terrorize the uppity natives. Gonzalo
Pizarro brought a thousand war dogs to Peru in 1541. Spaniards trained their dogs to disembowel
natives (rip out their intestines). In
the early U.S., Benjamin Franklin advocated the use of war dogs against the
Native Americans that sometimes hid behind every tree, and were not slightest
bit fond of white folks. Close your eyes
and imagine standing in front of five or six charging 200 pound war dogs
determined to rip you to bloody shreds.
¶ Tom Brown has
developed an extremely intimate relationship with wild nature. He gained fame for his knowledge of tracking,
survival, and nature awareness. He lives
in rural southern New Jersey, a region on the scruffy side. In 1977, garbage was sent to open dumps,
where it provided a food supply for dog packs, which were growing in number,
and becoming a serious annoyance. Unwanted litters of puppies were often abandoned
in the woods by buttheads. Some of the mutts
who ran with the packs were pets who slept in their master’s home at night.
The packs were killing horses, cattle, sheep, and house pets
— domesticated animals whose wild survival skills had been bred out of
them. They sometimes attacked people, a
baby in a carriage got mauled. They
would surround a farmhouse all night, waiting for someone to come out. From time to time, police took action, using
poison and traps, sometimes shooting them.
Tom was sometimes hired to help them find the packs.
During an especially intense episode, one pack hammered
farmers, killing large numbers of sheep, but only eating one or two. In a bloody frenzy, they simply killed for
thrills, like humans do. The chief of
police hired Tom to shoot the troublesome pack.
He did, without pleasure, there was no other option. Many of the dogs were starved, diseased, loaded
with ticks, covered with open sores.
¶ Wolves have never forgotten how to be wolves. Bears have never forgotten how to be
bears. The same is true for every wild
animal species. But all domesticated
animals, to some degree, have been severed from their wild ancestors, in mind
and body (genes). The two super freak
animals in the world are dogs (domesticated wolves) and humans living in
non-wild cultures (farmer, herder, urban).
In the last 12,000 years or so, both have mutated into a variety of unusual
forms, like a person with multiple personalities, or a sorcerer who can
deliberately shape-shift into a wolf, bear, frog, raven, and so on.
Originally, humans were hunters, foragers, and
scavengers. With the emergence of plant
and animal domestication, we became herders, farmers, millers, weavers,
traders, warriors, and so on. Then came
industrialization and globalization, which led to many thousands of new crafts,
professions, and freak shows — none of which resembled our archetypal wild
ancestors, folks who had never forgotten their natural identity. We’re like the bar scene in Star Wars,
an extremely diverse mob of mysterious aliens.
Originally, dogs served as garbage disposals, intruder alert
security systems and, most importantly, hunting partners. Later, some were bred to be wolfhounds, big
and strong enough to drive away livestock-eating wolves. Then war dogs, bred to terrorize enemies, and
preserve the lives of warriors. Then
sheepdogs that kept the herds together, guided them, and rounded up
strays.
Keith
Thomas noted that common working dogs were for the scruffy folks, but the
nobility developed something new: high class dogs — hunting hounds for the gentlemen,
and small lapdogs (mostly toy spaniels or pugs) for the ladies. Middle class folks striving for upward
mobility acquired dogs to demonstrate their elevated social status. Today, the pet population has
skyrocketed. Many are considered to be
“fur children,” members of our family, beloved companion animals. Thomas was a party pooper. “The fact that so many people feel it
necessary to maintain a dependent animal for the sake of emotional completeness
tells us something about the atomistic society in which we live.”
Glossy magazines are loaded with photos of glamorous
celebrities and their adorable dogs.
Super-trendy breeds have become must-have status symbols and fashion
accessories for ambitious go-getters eager to present the appearance of fame
and success. I recently looked in the
Seattle paper’s want ads to check current prices for yuppie puppies. English bulldog, $3,500. American Akita, $1,650. Bernedoodle, $2,900. French bulldog, $2,695.
Look what we’ve done to the wolf! Like Midas, everything we touch turns to
gold. What a curse! Look at what we’ve done to the wild human!
8 comments:
Thank you so much for continuing to share your important and meaningful scholarship with us!
Hi David! I'm glad it's useful for you. It's been fun (and a lot of work) to assemble and share many years of learning.
"Joyful large carnivores will celebrate the dawn of a great revival, and a long overdue process of healing will begin"
What happens if we kill them all?
Humans are the only apex predator in Australia and it's been that way since the marsupial lion went extinct forty thousand years ago. There was little in the way of disease in aboriginal Australia prior to invasion. That left starvation (drought), fighting and birth control as the main means of population management.
If we don't voluntarily control our numbers it's quite probable that we will eliminate all large land predators in the not too distant future. Then there will only be disease, starvation and war left.
Hi Perran! My sense is that humankind is zooming into a stormy era of immense change and pain. The path we’re on is largely out of our control, because of the power and momentum of the status quo — lifestyles, beliefs, ignorance, resources, world affairs, etc. Also, the most highly educated generation in human history is doing a terrible job of educating the kids — because we also got a crap education. Few seem to have a basic understanding of how we got into this mess. My calling is to do whatever I can to address this ignorance, despite the fact that things are moving too fast for my efforts to make much difference.
Large carnivores are not the only clan in the family of life that is in extreme danger. Their fate is largely out of control. Also out of control is the continuing (temporary) surge in human numbers. It’s really easy to recommend voluntary limits on reproduction. I’m 67, and I’ve reviewed population books by Ehrlich, Hardin, Stanton, Bartlett, and others. They presented genuine serious concerns, and their wisdom was largely ignored, and often ridiculed.
The Sierra Club once tried to push your recommendation, at which point many donors angrily slammed their checkbooks closed, and the stupid idea was immediately dropped forever. The One Child Policy in China really pissed off the people. In a number of nations, faith communities are still determined to abolish all forms of family planning.
In the coming chaos, will humankind use their up ammunition resources on killing each other, before all large carnivores are extinct? It will run out, as industrial civilization runs out of energy, and glides beneath the waves, in a Titanic plunge.
My next book might be Reese’s Fairy Tales, which will feature a super villain known as the Big Bad Dog Pack. The friendship between man and dog ends abruptly when dog no longer receives food rations, and his master suddenly looks indescribably delicious. Will hundreds of millions of pit bulls, German shepherds, Rottweiler’s, etc. eat up humankind? And then, will the super intelligent wolf and coyote survivors eventually devour all domesticated animals? Will the family of life once again be 100% wild, like it was 15,000 years ago? The future has yet to be written.
Australians had far fewer options than folks living in lands with better soils, and climates more suitable for reliable agriculture. In the New World and Old World, folks had more options. Family planning was not a pressing need. One way or another, all life stays within current limits, which will vary over time.
Here is a horror story:
Wood powered cars
You must have written this before I started reading your blog. A treeless planet? A world without large carnivores is horror enough. A world without trees beggars belief.
I grew up in Adelaide hills. Over 1 million people live on the plains. When the gas and coal run out and it's citizens have to burn wood to cook, let alone maintain industry, there won't be much to go around. Most of the trees got chopped down over 100 years ago when the population was a fraction of what it is today. I dare say it will be total carnage when over 1 million inhabitants start fighting over the scraps.
Some say that photosynthesis stops at 104°F / 40°C Look: HERE
If it stays that hot not just trees will die.
Impressive! Thanks for the post.lion fighting dog
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