SCARF3

(Continued from SCARF2 mktyap@copyright)

The lonely penguin of Philip island

The parade starts early – about 5am. A curious march to the jumping off points. Hordes of penguins report to work in the open seas, doing what they must to feed themselves and their family. After work at sunset they waddle back – ungainly to their seaside-cove homes in droves. That is if they can find their homes, in the dark. It is a quandary for some. Take Pokko a penguin born the runt of the clutch. He’s always the last to head out in the morning as his legs are much smaller and his little flipper wings cannot elbow his way in front. Then in the evening back he’d lose his way. He’ll scramble from one burrow to another blindly hoping to find his real home. But often he’ll be repelled by someone already in the hole, quacking and squealing. Sometimes he ends up sleeping in someone else’s burrow for the night, only to be rejected by a late returnee in the morning. Nonetheless Pokko made do with the colony and survived to maturity. One tiring night, thinking that he had found an empty burrow to rest a stunning chick came to roost. She’s much bigger and stronger than him, but she didn’t mind him sharing the burrow. Also she seem to be the kindest of all, leading him out in the morning and showing the way back to her roost in the evening. Pokko was awestruck with respect and love for her intelligence and kindness. Especially when he felt so helpless and incompetent. Months passed and the couple were so happy together, Pokko thinking he had found the one in a million. Because of her he himself had felt more confident and more assertive despite his size. Before he met her he would hardly make it to a launching point which is a branch overlooking the surging waves. As other larger penguins jump off, Pokko sometimes got pushed over to the side, which meant he had to make his way up again to the launching height. In bad days he had to do this several times. With his stronger partner besides him he no longer needed to jostle with the rest – she’ll let him jump off with her and hunt fish together. Sometimes they lose each other – their little caves are over a hundred meters from the water’s edge and there are many different routes to take. But they’ll eventually be united at home. However they failed to start a family –  the eggs both helped to warm failed to hatch and had to be abandoned. One time Pokko had to chase off a gull about to steal the eggs, but still lost two of them. After several attempts they no longer felt a need to multiply – there were scores of new chicks emerging from other holes every season. Without any young Pokko and his mate would share their catch with the colony and they were well liked. As a colony of penguins the only thing that they don’t share is the upbringing of their young. But there are a host of predators where their defense depend on their size of numbers. So if a rogue raven or a sea-hawk comes into their chicks an alpha male will make a chase while the others crowd around to protect. Similarly their united stand against martens and dingos can be formidable. Pokko and his larger mate would always be at the forefront.  Unfortunately at sea their only defense is their speed under water. And so a fateful day Pokko lost his dearest. One early September she was so busy being the champion fish catcher that they did not notice a large shadow lurking in the deep. Before Pokko could do anything the leopard seal snatched her and tossed her into the air. Pokko could only cry plaintively, darting about underwater to save her by distraction. But the single bite was deep enough. When the seal came after him he had to flee as fast as his little flippers could carry, and escaped by a whisker.

So from that day on Pokko was alone again. He had come so far, overcoming his innate deficiencies by finding a perfect mate. The remainder of his life felt like he was thrown back into the sewers. Confused and deprived he became lost again each time he returned from the seas. Swaying and waddling clumsily back from the seas alone he could sometimes give a doleful cry. And if he was lucky enough to find an empty burrow, the next morning he would be invariably pushed off the launching point by the horde of eager divers. Since fairy penguins are monogamous and mate for life, one wonders if there’s a bachelor’s club or something for him, so that he doesn’t have to wander about, alone.

This cat sees ghosts

Unlike dogs cats generally are less obtrusive. They will often slink to a corner and glare at the scene before them. What goes on in their world? Are there things they know that humans don’t? There are scary stories that jumping black cats can resurrect a dead body and their disappearing acts forth-tell tragedies. Tabs is a tortoise-shell, barely a year old and dearly loved by his mistress, Tan. She’ll bring him everywhere, even on holidays, but always on wheels. So one time Tan had to visit her ancestors’ grave in Malaysia. She’d drive up to meet her outer family at the town of Perak and visit the graves of parents and grandparents together. This was the first for Tabs and her nephews and cousins were thrilled to be introduced to him. So after the events of the day were followed and completed to tradition, Tabs gathered for a group photo. Her mistress Tan was standing on the far left and they decided to put their arms over each other’s neck, even though their hands were soiled. They took shots with the graves in the background. Everything went as planned, although Tabs was noticed to give several meows and jumped off her arms when the photos were taken.

A week passed and Tan decided to send print copies of  the photos for her nieces. There was no email at that time and photographs were not digitized. Not looking much at it she got a call from her niece. She received the photos, but had a strange observation. A closer look at the photos showed a faint shadow standing next to Tan, with something that looked like an arm around her. An idea came to her – she still had not done the laundry after the visit. Retrieving the T-shirt she received a shock. Near where the right neck of the shirt were the soiled marks of her niece’s hands, as the niece was standing on her left. On the left of the neck were clear soiled marks of five fingers! Unconvinced she asked the nephew who was standing on the extreme right when the photo was taken. Sure enough there were soiled marks on his shirt on the right side, made by someone who were not there on his left. He said that somehow the stains remained even though the shirt was laundered. Tabs must have seen whoever was standing on both sides of the group. Shaken by this Tan decided to do an experiment.

During her Malay language class, she asked her teacher whether he believe in ghosts. Of course, as he was once the village vice-bomoh (a sort of medicine man) So she challenged him during class to show that ghosts do exist. The rest of her classmates had mixed reactions – some were clearly reluctant to challenge the idea. So Che’gu (malay for teacher) had a proposal. He will organize a grave visit for the class at 2 am in the morning. He had only one condition when the witching time arrives, at around 3 am – that nobody must make a sound, or move while seated around the fire.

Night came and the small group, some still giggling at the prospect gathered around the fire, at midnight, at the Malay cemetery. Tan had Tabs in her arms, as usual. So the Che’gu started burning incense and started a slow chant. For three hours nothing happened. Some had begun to feel restless and sleepy, wanting to give up and go home. Until 3.30 am. The incantation intensified. Then a breeze came and a chill descended on the group. Nobody moved as agreed, except Tabs, who suddenly jumped off Tan’s arms and ran off. Tan, now fully awake couldn’t see anything unusual. So around 6 am Che’gu quietly announced the event over, and requested everybody to wash their faces as a ritual of the experience, before going home. At the washbasin, Tan looked in the mirror and noticed her friend washing beside her pale and shuddering. What happened Tan asked. “You don’t know? I saw it. I was sitting opposite you and it was there right behind where you were sitting! A tall white figure, taller than the trees.” When? “Just at the time Tabs jumped off your arm,” came the reply.

The wolf who cried sheep

Wolves have a bad reputation. When a man is called a wolf it labels him as one who predates women sexually and takes selfish advantage of the weaker sex. The biblical reference to a wolf in sheep’s clothing warns of attack from apparently harmless or even helpful people whose motives are far more sinister. In modern times wolves were reported to kill far more sheep than the pack needs to eat. The implication is the canis species destroys rather than kills for sustenance. So from the usual human viewpoint wolves appear more destructive to its lower food-chain than locusts do to crops. However viewed from concepts like ecological balance and the sustainability of the food-chain in a resource-limited world such feral behavior may be dismissed as nature just taking its course. Some may even argue that their innate qualities are really good, seeing that dogs, which are domesticated from the lupus family are the world’s most loved pets today. Many birds of prey are demonstrably territorial. So are wolves. Our story begins with a pack headed by Red, the alpha female. She has a stripe of reddish fur round her neck. She may not be the biggest of the pack of five, but her temperament makes her the leader to be feared.  Her mate is actually bigger in size, marked by a dark striped fur around his neck. Black, as we will call him is actually a coward inside. He’ll always cower behind her when the pack is on the move. Whenever a potential conflict arise, such as approaching another wolf-pack in a territorial stand-off, Black would fall back behind Red, tail down between his hinds. At the end of each day, when the pack settles down, Red will give the ceremonial howl first, then Black would follow. The rest of the pack would howl in unison, by pecking order. And he is often given to complaining – when the leader wants Black to chase a field mouse for the pack, he’ll say, “Why me? The others can run too, why should I hunt for them!” So naturally, Black is always the last to volunteer. One hot summer, food was scarce. After wandering a while the pack chanced upon a farm. Red’s eyes narrowed on the chicken enclosure. As the chickens scattered with the first assault Black espied a group of livestock further away. “Sheep! Sheep look!”, he cried to Red. Leave alone! We have enough just feeding on chicken was the leader’s reply. But we won’t have enough, we need bigger meat, there’s five of us, Black moaned. “Shut up and feed, then leave”, came the reply. But Black was still salivating when the cows started to bellow and dogs began to bark. As he hesitated two shots of gunfire rang out. Boom! Boom! Bullets whizzed by their heads as the pack made a hasty retreat to the forest.  So being greedy, Black lost a meal and so Red had to go hungry too. The rest of the day they fed on insects and sparrows they managed to catch. But besides greed Black had to learn another lesson. One hot hungry day, the pack arrived at a stream. The leader Red looked across the water, sniffed the air and licked her tongue to sense whether there were game on the other side. Just then Black saw a rabbit jumped. Without waiting for the rest of the pack, he rushed across the stream and quickly found it beyond his depth. Gradually the flow pushed him toward a boulder in midstream. The rest of the pack started howling in excitement. After waiting for a while Black started to swim back to rejoin the pack. By this time all thoughts about crossing vanished as all possible prey had fled the commotion. However Red was more measured – she started trotting upstream on the side of the bank and found a narrower stretch of water. As the pack prepared to cross they even picked up some salmon who died after spawning. So Black learned patience that day to move with the rest of the pack and not to yield to instant gratification. Then one day came a real test of leadership.

The wolf pack was crossing a pasture when up ahead a pack of hyenas approached. This was their territory and trespassing is always an explosive situation. Outnumbered, Red decided instinctively to retreat. But not Black. He stood his ground while his comrades turned to run. For once he had decided to pluck up courage instead of slinking behind his mate. Before long he was surrounded by eight snapping jaws, with four more lurking behind the altercation. He fought furiously. But his bigger size over an average hyena was no match for eight of them. After several more skirmishes he was driven back to his pack, bruised all over. As he trotted back he had learned the lesson all gregarious animals know. Except for solitary hunters like jaguars and tigers,  others like lions, monkeys, wildebeest (and most humans) have strength in numbers – lose your tribe lose your life. But not after he had lost part of his tail.

So spring came that year as a time to bring new life. For wolves the top couple mates to produce offspring and the rest of the pack bonds with the new arrival. Red had been carrying the growing litter inside her for some time now and slowly giving up the leadership to Black. He now had to sniff out the grub for the pack, whither is the honey from which bush, which hole leads to the family of voles or where in a field of snow the insects are buried. Even when heavily pregnant, Red still gave a strong helping hand – she’s just born to do whatever is needful every time – that’s the stuff leaders are made of. It’s only after the pups were born that the burden started to have an overbearing toll on her. The milk tits always ran dry for the seven struggling, yelping furries and hunger was no help for production. So Black started to learn what hard work meant for surviving the pack. Nevertheless only the strongest will survive to snatch the milky tit from the rest and soon, only three growing pups were left. Red had then became her scrawny self, but still had to help to hunt. Came fall. One foggy day she collapsed – exhausted by responsible motherhood. The pack surrounded their leader, sniffing while her life slipped away. They stood in silence for a time that seemed like eternity. Then the howl.
One by one each pointed their snouts upwards to let out the doleful sound, reverberating through the star-less night. It is nothing like what humans cry out at funerals. Here there were no meaningful utterances – something haunting between a long drawn wail and a utterly sad whine. Beyond words, it was pure emotion that will pierce your soul. Indeed it was a baring of their souls.

For Black it was a fearful farewell cry as a new role fell on him to raise the pups, now learning to hunt, and leading the pack. No more falling behind his mate in blind dependence. No more crying sheep. Since then he never quite got over the grief of his capable mate. But something was hidden dormant while she was leader. All of a sudden his leadership potential fully burst forth at her passing. You see, wolves are among the few animal species who will choose only one mate for life.

This land is mine – hippo security patrol

If you say the lion is the king of land animals, then the hippo must be king of the river. Weighing above a ton on average an adult hippo’s anger against territorial intrusion can kill up to 3000 humans a year. They may not have as menacing jaws as the crocodiles that share the river with them yet their awesome strength is known to snap tree branches like matchsticks and overturn boats with ease. Being herbivore and amphibian many stories of their chivary toward other animals have been observed. Take the case of Zano, a zebra yearling. One hot dry summer the herd had to drink from the river whose extremely muddy banks had receded greatly from the lack of rain. Besides the shortage of life-giving water the hippo’s territory also seem to have shrunken. However that afternoon the group of hippos were visibly absent – they had gathered further downstream where the river bed was deeper providing underwater cooling comfort for the herd. Without threat from the hippos the zebras started wading deeper away from the bank for a fresher cooling quench. But danger always lurk under the surface of a sub Sahara river. When the normally cautious zebras were lulled into the comfort of a cooling stream, the mud suddenly exploded. A giant crocodile lounged and grabbed Zano’s rear leg. Bleating savagely Zano attempted to flee like the rest scattering towards the bank. The croc already had the advantage – the mud was so thick that Zano’s legs could hardly propel him to safety. With a swift trashing of its tail Zano was quickly pulled into the deep. Zano instinctively kicked water and mud in the struggle and wailed as loudly as his lungs held out. Just when he thought his life was over a strange sight appeared some distance down river. Dark blobs on the water surface were swimming upstream towards the commotion. Actually they were half running because hippos do not have webbed feet, and so they were partly running on the riverbed. Meanwhile Zano had remained still, exhausted from the struggle, with the croc’s jaws firmly clamped for the final drowning. As the hippos approached the leading alpha male’s ears could be seen flickering above the water – a sign of fury and anger. Then the loud snorts as six one ton bodies surrounded the croc, nostrils blowing loud hisses. The croc didn’t yield and that was enough for the alpha male. He submerged himself – an ominous sign that the hippo was about to strike. The next moment the 250kg reptile was gripped by the hippo’s cavernous jaws and thrown into the air. Then a curious thing happened. Punctured in the leg Zano was struggling to stand but failed, flopping back on the water. Two hippos approached and with their snouts gently nudged him to his feet, while the croc slipped away beleaguered. As if that’s not enough one of the hippos continued to nudge the stumbling zebra thru the deep mud until Zano reached firm ground. He stood there for some time, dazed and brown all over. The hippos re-grouped.

After Zano recovered, he slowly trotted to the savanna but his herd was nowhere in sight. For hours he searched aimlessly. No zebras – only moving herds of wildebeests, hyenas and deer. Once he mistakenly approached a herd of elephants. The matriarch chased him off, ears flapping wildly. Then in the distance he caught up with them grazing. Zano ran up happily to rejoin his family, expecting a welcome. Nothing of that happened. Instead the entire herd started running away from him. They could not recognize his stripes under the chocolate colored mud. So the next few weeks Zano followed his tribe from a distance, like an excommunicated miscreant. Until the summer rain came.

Months passed and Zano’s leg healed completely. In fact he was strong enough to lead his herd. Meanwhile at the river the hippos had multiplied. Several calves were starting to wean, hanging closely to their mothers. One day a mother and her young left the water to eat some young shoots at the bulrushes. Unknown to them a pride of lions were hiding nearby. Normally the lioness do not attack adult hippos for prey. But this time their interest was the calf, which was about the size of a pig. Soon enough the mother got wind of the danger. But she was on dangerous ground as her defenses are superior only in water. She’s after all only the queen in the river. And then she was outnumbered – this pride of three lionesses were working together for a kill. Just when the attackers were about to pounce on the hapless mother an amazing event occurred. On the horizon, not more than fifty meters away a troop of zebras emerged. Zano and his herd of two hundred just chanced upon the scene – like a line of cavalry suddenly surrounding a besieging group of red Indians. The attacking pride of lions were briefly distracted, long enough for mother and child to rush back to the safety of their herd in the river. Zano and his herd also ran – in the opposite direction. Zebras have this built-in instincts to run at the sight of lions. As Zano led his herd away one thought came to him about the hippos. Quid pro quo.

The eagle Intrepid

There are more than 70 species of eagles – a bird of prey related to raptors. Their keen eyes symbolized perspicacity, courage, strength and immortality. They are also considered “king of the skies” and messenger of the highest god, although the South American condor comes close to being the largest bird on earth. With these attributed qualities the eagle became a symbol of power and strength in Ancient Rome. Qualities of fierce independence and freedom to rule the skies as the top predator inspired the early American fathers to choose the bald eagle as the national bird. They also form the coat of arms of Austria and Germany as sovereign nations. Such noble qualities are the basis of our next story of a stellar sea eagle named Intrepid.

She already has a nest, up high on the Andean cliffs, with three flurry white eaglets to feed. So her work of finding food is cut out for her, almost the whole day, everyday. One day she could not find anything to feed her ravenous chicks, until noon. Then when she swooped down the cliff for the fiftieth time, she got lucky. On the snowy slope was a ptarmigan with her two chicks. There was no place to hide in the almost barren slopes. But she flew right over them. Why? Because Intrepid is no ordinary bird and live on certain principles. Her first principle is: never attack prey with offspring. Too many people in our society do not think beyond the call of duty – history is filled with those who blindly follow rules and political expediency. Many leaders failed to leave a legacy by not thinking about what should be done than what must be done. So this eagle believes in the future – that the young prey must be allowed to procreate to sustain the food-chain. Eventually she was able to snatch a female salmon about to die after spawning. On hauling this heavy fish to her nest, she did something extraordinary. Normally one or two eagle chicks will compete for food, with the stronger one always winning and eventually killing the younger. But Intrepid feeds them all in turn – tearing the booty with her talons and ensuring all three chicks get even portions. Her second principle: The eagle spirit is fierce, stalwart but fair.  As she set out again, her generosity gifted her the sight of a cluster of rabbits. She swooped down as they scattered each to their holes. Except one. It moved too slowly to the burrows. The eagle’s sharp eyes clearly saw this rabbit was lame. Intrepid soared off. Why miss a free lunch? Her third principle: Never make a bounty from the sick and the weak. You may think this as far fetched – any eagle would’ve starved to death by now. But again Intrepid is no ordinary bird. She’s doubly blessed – first with the generous spirit and second as the lord of the skies in the prolific coast, full of life-forms. Her favorite is snakes, as toxic as they come. There are extremely poisonous ones near the coast and somehow birds of prey are immune to the toxins. Intrepid takes pride in her elegant glide into the shallows and effortlessly lift a wriggling, sinewy form with one pendulum-like swing of her powerful talons. And because of their poison snakes are abundant. She has a principle to the challenges of taking on life to feed herself and her brood: The harder the goal the greater the challenge – never give up however foreboding the undertaking.

When pursuing a goal Intrepid holds on to an uncompromising standard of the relentless search to improve. When came for her chicks to leave the nest Intrepid was strict in their maiden flights. The two older chicks needed less push, but the youngest would quickly wobble into the eyrie with each wind gust. When the oldest took a tumble on her maiden flight, the mother led the fledgling out again and again to clear the cliffs, after each arduous task clambering back to the eyrie. When it comes to trying Intrepid insists on one principle: Never settle, aim high, then higher. But all these ambitions not without integrity. You could see it in her angry eyes.

One time she was chasing her prey – a swift swallow, one of the three flying together towards the sea. After a while she suddenly wheeled off from the chase allowing them to escape. Just as she did so, out of the sky another eagle appeared – a sea-eagle which immediately took up the chase of the swallows. Why? Principle number five: Respect the territory of others. This may appear obvious for birds of prey, but fights to the death have often occurred when the unwritten code is not respected. And humans have not fully assimilated this fact – countries today are still guilty of taking over land and violate the sovereignty of others. One might have thought that respecting the territory of another human being is just that – never intrude into the personal space and business of another. But it actually goes further – to acquire the possessions of another by theft or deception is intrusion of a heinous kind. Intrepid will not hesitate to intervene when one of her kind engages in robbery or any malfeasance.

It was a wintry day – food was scarce and competitors were aplenty. A dozen stellar eagles gathered on the frozen shores. Then there were scores of ravens, several seals and a couple of polar bears, each eyeing about to see which will become prey or predator. But most of the prey were swimming, hidden under the ice-cold water. Then a sudden splash as water sprayed from a threshing pike in the jaws of a fur seal. Soon the seal clambered on a floating ice to work on his meal. But before he could set his jaws again on it an eagle swooped down and deftly picked it off the seal’s paws. The thief landed on another floating ice, chased by the noisy ravens. The ravens could only make stealthy jabs at the droppings of the meal as the eagle tore at the morsel. But not for long. Intrepid landed next to the thief with a ferocious squawk. She rose high on her 5-foot frame and extended her wingspan to the maximum three meters. As if that’s not intimidating enough she turned around, livid, on the slinking thief with her blood-red and yellow neck feathers raised menacingly. You would have thought that conquerors always take the spoils of the vanquished. But not this Chief Justice of the skies. She picked up the half-eaten fish and dropped it near the seal that was watching the altercation. Nonsense you might say – what wild predator would work against the law of the jungle where might and strength rule the day. Not until you meet Intrepid – the messenger from the God of justice, truth and mercy.

And they will soar on wings like eagles, they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not grow faint (Isaiah 40:31)

But the two wings of the great eagle were given to the woman, so that she could fly into the wilderness to her place, where she was nourished for a time and times and half a time, from the presence of the serpent (Rev 12:14)

Who satisfies your years with good things, So that your youth is renewed like the eagle (Ps 103:5)

Welcome to my charming nasty goose bumps

Harry leads a very private life. Ever since his wife died he finds great consolation in nature. For hours, camera in hand, he’ll get close to birds, insects and other wild life. But his greatest love is in how the flora and fauna express themselves, as if talking to him in his loneliness. So fascinated was he that he bought a beautiful home in the most enchanted forest area of the Swiss alps. His study faces a charming waterfall, not more than 20 meters high, with myriads of colorful butterflies, moths and other insects flying around the crystal-like stones where the spring water laps. The surrounding flora on both sides of the fall, scintillating with the morning sunlight, defies description. In the morning Harry will be awoken by the melodious orchestra of the different bird species taking their first feed of the insects that rise with the sun. So when Harry first moved in he thought that he’ll at least enjoy a foretaste of heaven that he believes his wife is now enjoying. But there’s one problem.

The cottage is next to a public park. Each summer groups of tourists would descend on the forest paths that radiate from the parking area. Students, mothers with energetic children unleashed, barking dogs and other trekkers would laugh and chatter along their day long expedition through the charming forest. Harry’s house sits right next to the path which cuts through his land. At first he tolerated the peripheral intrusion of his reclusion, as an ancient law requires that one must provide public access to anyone if that is the only conveyance available. But soon the noise and sometimes litter started to jangle his nerves. What’s more people would linger around the path for hours to admire the waterfall panorama that he thought was his quiet privacy. All his protestations to the authorities fell on deaf ears, as the forest, including the waterfall is state land. After pondering for months an idea dawned on him. He roughened up the access area, creating small bumps here and there so that intruders would not hang around than just passing through. It is his land area after all and although he did not deny public access the law cannot dictate how to landscape it. But it didn’t work. People still ignore his “private property” signage. What to do?

So one day when he visited a friend’s farm it struck him. He bought a gaggle of geese. Using an electronically control gate, he would release them whenever people over stayed on his land. Hissing with heads low they would waddle, beaks opened menacingly towards the strangers and getting under their skin. Some girls even screamed in terror, but it was the prefect scare tactic. No one has ever suffered more than a mild nick on their heels and the geese never venture outside Harry’s land. However there’s someone that the geese love.

Claire is a chubby 6 year old. Like most children she loves animals. For a long time she’d asked for a pet-dog from her parents. As they live in a flat this had been out of the question – Switzerland has among the strictest codes in the world regarding noise and disturbance from pets in close living spaces. But their flat is close to Harry’s cottage. So one day when Claire and her sister were on the path in his house the geese happened to be on their nasty rounds. As the gaggle approached them hissing low, Claire’s older sister let out a short scream and ran off to safety. But not Claire. She squatted low and extended her loving arms. Surprised, the geese fell silent and calmed down. With a tranquil voice Claire encouraged the geese to approach. Harry who was watching from his French window was first taken aback, and then bemused. The four geese drooped their heads submissively and allowed Claire to embrace each one in love. She even proceeded to kiss their napes gently. Then something curious happened. The geese each extended their long necks and cradled Claire’s neck lovingly in turn, their short tails wiggled in joy. A loud applause erupted from a group of tourist watching in silence nearby, outside and away from harm’s way. They had been regular visitors and had grown skittish about the geese ever since they became Harry’s security guards. As from that day on, Claire had free access to come visit anytime and Harry even allow her to take them for short walks around. Today if you’re visiting Switzerland and happen to pass through Harry’s house you’ll see the sign saying:

“Private property – beware of Goose Bumps – children are allowed petting.” And then

“Trespassers will NOT be persecuted“

Hickory Dickory Frog

Want to know how many species of frogs and toads in the world? About 6000. Some are painted, some slimy and many are toxic. The humble frog or toad in your yard is ubiquitous – suddenly it may be on the side of the pond, or hanging by a branch, or crawling along the window-pane. Just like the proverbial mouse that ran up the clock, it is just there – maybe because there can be so many of them as they are prolific breeders. The poet Basho describes their incidental presence with his world famous haiku :

Furu ike ya
kawazu tobikomu
mizu no oto

There’s no English translation that will fully justify the spirit of the 3-5-3 verse. Like “An old pond – frog jumped – a plonk sound of water.”

Our frog in this episode is Hockeye. Living among the reeds of the reservoir he must hide assiduously because his enemies are many. The tawny eagle is the apex predator in the lake but fortunately it has many goldilocks choices. Then there’s the egret – still as a statute moments before it strikes. The toman is a fierce snakehead fish and luckily it’s favorite is smaller fish, although there are scenes of it eating a toad or a small turtle. With these enemies all around you need friends. Who’d want to befriend a frog? Certainly not the reptilian denizens of the lake – for the green snake and the monitor lizard frogs or toads are the haute cuisine. So Hockeye found friendship with Woody the mongoose. Woody occasionally goes to the water’s edge for a drink. At the same time he would rustle the reeds, dispersing the insects resting there. Then Hockeye would collect them with a flip of his long tongue, or spit. But where is the symbiosis between them? It’s a dangerous liaison. Hockeye would draw the snakes out and the mongoose has his meal. But it has to be just before the snakes have theirs. So they’ll wait near the clock tower around lunchtime and Hockeye would start to croak at the bulrushes while Woody crouched low. Sometimes a grass snake would show up as Hockeye started to sweat (yes, they also breathe through their skin). Then they would dart off for other more delectable meals like a loach lurking at the water’s edge. Hockeye will catch his breath before resuming his croaks.  There are times when Woody would be beaten to the snake by the eagle which circles the lake. And then they both have to flee, in case the eagle next turn on them. But when something like a cobra appears Hockeye will hop off before it strikes and Woody will confront his prey. Come the rainy season and frogs will start to mate and croak vociferously. Hockeye will have numerous females in the corner of his pond, which he’ll take turns to mount. He’ll get brushed off often but as if nonchalantly, he’ll get onto another nearby, sometimes mistakenly on another male. He has to compete vigorously with the pool of harem afforded him, noisily but often by sheer strength from his two hind legs. They have to be strong through these exercises – many a time his life depends on it. After a week tiny tadpoles will hatch from the numerous clusters of yellow-dotted translucent eggs. Of the millions of eggs in the pond only a tiny fraction (1%) eventually survive, fully-grown to breed the next generation. The eggs either become breakfast for fishes and seabirds, or lunches and dinners for lizards and snakes, much like what humans make of the billion chicken eggs a day world-wide. Therefore frogs and toads, unlike humans do not have the luxury to select true-love mates for life. Or is it the other way around? But for the Romeo Hockeye he doesn’t mind – life for him is a blast hopping off in time to escape the jaws of death and letting his friend eats his prey. Hockeye also has a human friend. Not a few hops away is the Reservoir Experimental Station. One time when he chanced to be there a researcher scooped him up and placed him among the experimental rice stalks. Hockeye started feeding on the harmful apids.  Sometimes the researcher would put him on tea stalks, or some citrus plants. Hockeye would feed on the psylligs and the researchers would make copious notes, as there is a current infestation of these bugs in Asian citrus plantations. So the researcher would use him occasionally but always let him return to his waterside home, after putting a little tag on his feet for his research contributions. But little does the researcher know that Hockeye would not return again the next summer and that in the animal kingdom no one respects tags.

It happened at the usual lunch hour at the clock tower. It was a beautiful sunny day and Hockeye was croaking merrily for his friend. The sky was deep blue without a bird in the sky. After a long time he would feel a vibration in the reeds like a slithering body approaching. As it approached Hockeye was getting ready to jump and Woody readied himself. But no – instead the cobra lunged at another frog nearby. Shocked, Woody let the snake slipped away and Hockeye lowered his guard. Not sooner than Hockeye was about to croak again, a slithering body darted out from the reeds and grabbed him in its toxic jaws.  There was not one but two snakes! Woody sprung into action nonetheless. He jumped on the cobra’s tail. But his bites failed to dislodge Hockeye, instead the snake had started to swallow. Woody recoiled and bit on its head, shaking it violently to rescue Hockeye. After a while the snake stopped. Then like any mongoose would do Woody proceeded to swallow the snake whole, bloated with his friend inside.

Hickory Dickory Dock
The frog began to crock
The clock struck one
Two snakes are done
Hickory Dickory Frog!

The dolphin that whistles back

Dolphins, like whales have lungs and blowholes are their nostrils. But more remarkable are their brains, larger than most fish relative to their size. Their performance in aquatic shows belie their intelligence. You’ll have thought that they learn from humans under training. But there’s more. Even in the wild dolphins have been observed to hunt intelligently in groups and their behavior follows logic absent in other fishes, like innovation. Above all these extremely social mammals have an inexplicable affinity for humans, even in the wild. Take the case of Davie, a bottle-nose adopted by the Marine naval research facility. He’s been taught to be a lifeguard at a secret location somewhere along the Californian coast. Discovered accidentally after he was lost by being separated from his pod at birth, Davie took to his human keeper like an infant to his mother. As he grew, the keeper found an abnormal birth defect – his blowhole does not seem to open completely like others. Fortunately Davie had adapted to it and it was considered not life-threatening. But it was a probable reason why he was unable to keep up with the pod at birth. So when he grew strong enough he started the lifeguard program, helping to recover disabled seamen and other operatives under water. One day something curious happened during his training.

Once for the whole day the keeper was shouting hoarse to Davie.  Then she decided to use a whistle to get his attention. Davie whistled back. It was not the usual dolphin whistle from air within its mouth but a human-like one. Startled the trainer blew twice to made sure that it was not an accident. The dolphin whistled twice through his blowhole. Then to make absolutely sure she whistled a rhythm like: -, – -, -, -. Davie could respond to the rhythm exactly. From that time on, Davie started to communicate with his trainer using different short-long blast sequences. So if she wanted to call Davie it would be a long sustained whistle. Davie would show up from underwater and acknowledge with a short note. Then when she wants him to fetch, two long whistles would send him dashing out to catch the ball. A long-short blast would mean “go” and two short blasts to “stop”. Jackie the trainer would have so much fun with Davie devising interesting aquatic performances. Sometimes she’d make a mistake and Davie would wrongly throw the rider overboard, much to laughter from the crowds. But Davie is part of the naval team and sideshows like this are just to supplement the cost of his upkeep. Now dolphin researchers will tell you that besides using sounds of clicks and whistles from its mouth to communicate, the essential use is in echolocation – sensing echoes to determine where its prey or predator is, besides navigation. In a real naval operation no humanly detectable sound must be made and hence Davie would be instructed with a different, inaudible frequency, outside the range of 20 to 20000 Hz. Still Davie enjoys whistling through his blowhole, a birth defect that he has turned into a fun activity. But what about underwater?  Davie would choke or even drown if he tries to whistle likewise there. So he whistles the normal way, like all dolphins do, thru his breathing apparatus underwater. Davie and Jackie worked 3 years and like all dolphins had to make way for younger ones at the project. But Jackie would not let her companion go to seed. She took a job as a lighthouse keeper so as to live close to him in a private cove out in the sea.

It was a worthwhile calling. Seamen caught in rough seas would take refuge in the cove and spend the night in her tavern until the storms pass. Sometimes ships would run aground on hurricanes and Jackie, assisted by her son as keepers had to run the logistics of recovery and providing shelter at the medical assisted center. Stragglers would be given food and board for a modest fee so Jackie could get by, while her son ran the cafeteria. And then there’s Davie – what a great help as we soon find out.

It was a day when the storms made it looked like night. The waves were huge enough to overpower a luxury yacht and it had to shelter in Jackie’s cove. On board were parents with their children, aged 15, 8 and 5. As the day drawn into night they had to radio for Jackie’s help. So in pitched-black darkness she set out in the motorized pontoon, guided only by the light of her lighthouse. After everyone was lifted off the yacht, Jackie ensured that each was properly life-jacketed. But no sooner when she headed toward the tavern the wind picked up. A monstrous wave flipped them overboard. All the adults screamed. However the children though terrified inside, managed to remain composed to take instructions from Jackie. “Everyone grab onto the pontoon!”, she shouted above the noise of wind and waves. So after everyone was accounted for, hanging to the ropes of the overturned craft, Jackie reminded them to stay calm, while she prayed inside her that Davie comes to help. For half an hour nothing happened when they floated in the darkness. She whistled and called out for Davie. But the waves and wind was louder. A pod of dolphins swam by. But it wasn’t Davie among them. The children had started to cry, shivering in the cold. Jackie herself was about to give up but she whistled anyway. Then from the darkness the familiar whistle. Jackie made a loop with a mooring rope, small enough to fit his bottle-nose. It was slow, but soon Davie pulled them to shore in the pitch darkness.

Once they were all safe, warmed and fed in the tavern, Jackie went out to the jetty to thank Davie with a bucket of fish. At her whistle, Davie showed up chattering with his happy clicks. The wind was still howling with the waves. After feeding him Jackie stroked his snout and asked, not expecting a reply from the dolphin, “How did you finally find us?” Davie clicked several times and whistled with his blowhole. Jackie immediately understood what he was trying to say – “That pod of dolphins that found you earlier – they told me.”

 

Cheeky, the bonobo face artiste

There are over 260 known species of monkeys. Of the hominoid simians we often hear of chimps, baboons, gorillas, orangutans and gibbons generally classified as apes. But there’s also other macaques (non-hominoid) like the mandrill, capuchin, colobus, marmoset, tarsiers and tamarin which are rarely heard of. Then there’s the endangered ape bonobo, a so-called pigmy chimpanzee which is a closest extant relative to humans. We meet one of them, appropriately given the name Cheeky.

Cheeky likes to make faces. Not just mimicry, which monkeys are known for. He’s also  able to sense the feelings of people and reflect in his face – one of joy, sadness, surprise, anger or puzzlement. Sometimes he’ll accompany with an appropriate monkey giggle or shriek but often the expression will last briefly for a second and he’ll saunter away. How did he learn these emotions? By watching videos – endlessly. His keeper tried this as an experiment after noticing his facial expressiveness. Sometimes Cheeky doesn’t seem to care about the endless stream of videos, but somehow things get through. So when a visitor comes to him, he’ll briefly gaze at the face and then reflect the mood as he thinks fit. So Cheeky was just an academic research interest at the national zoo, until a notorious theft occurred at a nearby cage. Two rare peregrine falcons disappeared. Investigations revealed that the theft occurred late morning after feeding time. The mystery was solved the very next day. The butcher shop was delivering meat to the lion’s keeper passing by the peregrine cages when Cheeky became very agitated. Did he see the thief? This happened a few times. So the zoo security decided to furtively follow the butcher truck. The falcons were found hence incriminating the delivery staff. Cheeky not only can read emotions – he can never forget a suspicious face. Where and when did he pick up this habit? Turns out that he became quite close to the young elephant calf in the next enclosure. The young is always taking in new sights and sounds from the new environment they’re born into. And Cheeky started to communicate with the baby elephant in an animal language that scientists still hardly know. So every time a visitor comes to the enclosure to interact with the pachyderms Cheeky would take it all in, observing how they smell and probe with their trunks. Hence he learned to always remember an individual.

So a new experiment started. Cheeky would be shown photographs of different people and he is able to pick one that matches the visitor. He could even match as well as the face recognition software developed for security systems. But a deeper question was posed – if he can read emotions,  wouldn’t Cheeky be able to pick up suspects? The research keeper scratched his head a while and the airport project was started.

Cheeky would be stationed at the arrival booth of a terminal to work with the sniffer dogs. But his job was with the customs officer to pick up suspects in contraband and passport fraudsters. So weeks of training began and Cheeky would learn to sense fearful and jittery people. After a while Cheeky’s success rate began to climb. He would be right in 6 out of 10 arrivals, jumping up and down everytime a suspect is led away. Then when a feature on him appeared in the news the airport somehow became a tourist attraction. That was when Cheeky the inspector began to fail. He became a celebrity  – and a spectacle. Children would run around him and shout “Gorilla! gorilla!” Others would hang around the entry point and regard the uniformed chimp with curiosity. It came to a point of him losing his job. In a last ditch effort the keeper decided to put Cheeky in a cage away from the inspectors, using a video screen to show the responses of each visitor expressions. It failed. Cheeky was bored to death, crouched in the corner of the cage, ignoring everything. He lacked the smell and sound that he learned from the elephants. Or is there something else that cognitive scientists has yet to discover on our “sixth sense”?

So Cheeky returned to the zoo cage. Today he occasionally appears on TV commercials flashing his famous facial expressions that people would coax out of him. But if you happen to visit him at the zoo, know for a fact that his expressions are real and that he understands exactly how you feel.

Sheepish is not stupid

It is said that you can lead a sheep or goat anywhere, even willingly to its death. The term “sacrificial lamb” is not coincidental – any shepherd can attest that sheep often need help to help themselves as if the animal is only bred to be killed in absolution. Each year the world consumes 2.2 million sheep and lamb as well as 1.5 million goats. If not for demand in mutton New Zealand, which has more sheep than human population, would have suffered in its top export commodity. Lamb and sheep sacrifices had its religious origins – King Solomon’s feast had 120 000 along with 30 000 oxen, lasting 14 days and the Islamic Eid al-Adha annual ritual of slaughtering sheep also had biblical origins from Abraham’s sacrifice of his son Isaac. But just like the pig can we find an exception? If you meet the baby lamb Alfa you’ll find it.

Alfa is unusual because he answers to his name. How often does a shepherd call his sheep by name? Alfa would lead the flock and one would know where he had led them from the bell he wears. He knows where the cliffs are and where to get water. Most of all Alfa would lead the flock back at dusk, avoiding places where you might expect a wolf or some predators lurking. So when he bleats on returning to the stalls the entire flock would bleat happy to be home. But sheep cannot count and so how does Alfa keep the flock? Because he has help from Beta, a doe no older than a year. She keeps so close to Alfa to copy every action of his, like a sidekick. And Beta has this habit of never entering the stall until all the others are back. How does she know? Perhaps sheep can sense each other. One day Alfa and the flock returned during sunset, but Beta refused to budge. The next morning the shepherd sensed something was wrong. A brief search found two sheep caught in the thicket of some bushes, bleating away in desperation.

So Alfa and Beta went on famously to help run the flock. Then August 10 approached and so came the Muslim festival of Eid Al-Adha – the festival of Sacrifice. Every year hundreds or thousands of sheep would be shipped out to countries that observe the event. It honors the willingness of the Biblical Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac and for his faithfulness was spared the agony when God provided a ram caught in the bush. All of a sudden Alfa watched as dozens of his ward were herded into trucks for export for the gruesome slaughter. As time went by it became clear that one day his turn would come, and so would Beta. What is there to do? Alfa would constantly turn to ask his companion Twig, a lorikeet that loves to perch on his right ear. And when Beta had reached the right age, she was gone too. Alone and getting on, Alfa would look up to Twig for solace. Grow more wool! Twig would seemed to shout into his ear. And so Alfa had been one of the most prolific in wool sheared from his back. But still with age there will come a time when it would be more economical to ship him off as mutton quality falls with age. Then what? And then one day it happened.

As usual Alfa was getting his usual shear. That morning Twig flew round his head with excited chirps. “Today is the day your life will be commuted!” Alfa walked into the stall as usual. Then as the shears clicked a shout came out of the shearer. “Hey mate look!” he cried to his fellow workers. They all dropped their shears and crowded around Alfa. There among the purest of white wool were bunches of golden ones. The gaped at the quality and luster of the golden wool. The master was called and they figured it must be a most marvelous product that will ever come out from the ranch.

So Alfa spend his evening years producing golden wool. And not only that, the master tried to sire him, hopefully to reproduce golden fleece from his offspring. Twig would fly around happily chirping away at Alfa’s fortune and pleasure – to enjoy old age with all the fuss and a harem to boot.

(Continue in SCARF4)