The Most Dangerous Animal in the U.S.

MUIR WOODS--Went on a great hike here among the old-growth redwoods, led by Tom Martell of "Tom's Tours." We even had a close encounter with the most dangerous animal in the U.S. (See my earlier post, "Crikey!") I took several pictures, which I may be able to add in here. Not only that, but it was a young male in the mating season. Tom explained that when these animals are in rut, the male will scrape a hole in the ground and urinate, as a scent marking for the female. Well, this wreaks havoc with other animals' territories, so soon you see animal feces and urine all over the place. Things only go back to normal at the end of the mating season. "Men," one of my fellow hikers murmured. "Always messing things up." What do you think? I could use some comments on my blog...

What's the biggest danger to the redwoods themselves? These trees can withstand moisture, and a goodly supply of tannin give them that beautiful color and render them relatively impervious to fungus and insects. Tom explained how their lack of a deep taproot and top-heavy outstretched branches help them survive the famous earthquakes of the region. But these same qualities that help the trees last to a healthy old age make their long-lasting lightweight lumber extremely valuable. I once toured a lumbermill near Eureka, California. The mill displayed a cross-section of a tree over 2000 years old. It had survived the time of Christ and all the wars, storms, and climate cycles since then, but it hadn't survived my generation.

We have met the most dangerous animal in the U.S., and he is Us. Still, like any dangerous animal, we can act docile given the right habitat and enough food and water. Our home is Mother Earth, and we have been given plenty of trees to regulate the water cycle. It would be our own fault if we lose sight of the value of the forest for the dollar signs in the lumber of ancient trees.

Back in California

SAN FRANCISCO--
After jet-lagging nights of sirens and shouts
and songless mornings of pigeons only--
concrete cliff-dwellers swirling in urban canyons
like plastic bags--
I am stunned to stumble on Alamo Square,
that tiny oasis
where a hummingbird beats his wings on his morning flower routine;
American Robins bathe in an accidental puddle.
New World birds bring back an old familiar world,
suddenly,
like the slap of a cold wave on the side of that sailboat
slicing the bay beneath a world-famous bridge.

A new morning takes me there again--
sharp halcyon sky of summers past,
charcoal cypresses etched against it,
yellow dots of mustard blossoms highlighting the foreground.
Then that scent of eucalyptus fills the brain--
naturalized California tree, like me:
ancestral roots from another continent, shallow;
ill-suited to the local fire cycle
as my skin is to the reigning sun,
but a friend to butterflies and hummingbirds.

Now I realize how I've missed you.

Crikey! Look at the Tail on this girl!

SINGAPORE--I took one last trip to MacRitchie Reservoir but failed to see a crocodile. If I had, I was supposed to call and report it. What would happen if I called up? "Umm.. I just wanted to report a 6-foot croc sort of lurking around the fishing pier." Would a voice suddenly bellow from the earpiece: "Isn't she a beauty!!"?

What would they do with one if I reported it anyway? Well, this wandering naturalist is not above doing a little research. Turns out 3 crocs were spotted in a 30-day period from August to September last year, compared to only 1 crocodile all year in 2002. All three of last year's string were rounded up and turned over to the Singapore Zoo. (Maybe Steve Irwin, the Australian "Crocodile Hunter" I quoted, does make guest appearances.) I breathe easy in my hiking sneakers (too hot here for boots).

Horrible thought--to be eaten by a wild animal. Judging by recent movies, Open Water and Anacondas, the idea still thrills.

So what's the most dangerous predator? Well, in 25 years, crocodiles have killed 13 people in Australia, while sharks killed 31 in Australian waters* The Wyndham Crocodile Farm in Australia holds 3000 crocodiles, bred for their skins. (Crocs 13, people 3000. Hmmm...) Singapore also breeds crocodiles for their skins at the Crocodile Farm on Upper Serangoon Rd., and the Singapore Crocodilarium on East Coast Parkway has over 1000 crocodiles and a "reptile products shop."

As to sharks, well, there were about 54 worldwide attacks annually in the 1990s. Not fatalities, mind you, just attacks. Type the words "shark fishing" into an Internet search engine and you will find more than 54 companies willing to help You kill Them.

What animal is directly responsible for the most deaths every year in the U.S.? Big Bad Wolves? Bears? Snakes? Nope. There have been only 45 fatal bear attacks since 1900 in North America. Venomous snakes kill about 15 people a year in the U.S. Constrictors (anacondas!) about .4 people a year. (Maybe that's the size of a dead victim. Har.) Mountain lions? 7 fatalities in all of the 1990s. Spiders? There have been 15 deaths in Texas since 1980. Killer bees? Only 6 deaths in the U.S. so far. Dogs? Their bites account for 18 deaths in the U.S. per year. Our own croc relative? Florida recorded 9 fatalities from alligator attacks from the years 1948 - 1999.

Give up yet? It's Bambi! Yep, the white-tailed deer is nature's equivalent of a suicide bomber: more than 130 human deaths in the U.S. per year due to that frozen-in-the-headlights action. Too bad we're short on Big Bad Wolves, huh?

Now, what animal is Indirectly responsible for the most human deaths? That would be the mosquito, since it's good at transmitting malaria, West Nile virus, neat stuff like that.

Makes crocodiles a little less fearsome, doesn't it? Who is the "animal" responsible for the most human deaths? Humans, of course! The homicide rate in the U.S. in 1996 was 19,645 people, or 7.4 in every 100,000 people. Violence kills more than 1.6 million people worldwide every year, according to the World Health Organization. "Violence" means homicide/suicide/armed conflict. It is the leading cause of death in the world for those between the ages of 15 and 44. Then add in all the motor vehicle accidents (average from the late '80's in the U.S. was 48,411) and firearms accidents (1464, same time, same place) and you will come to the same conclusion I have:

If you want a safer world, stop making babies and start raising wolves and crocodiles.

If you insist on rearing humans, however, at least raise them to share Steve Irwin's respect for our elders, the crocs that have been around as a species for 2 million years.

Isn't she gorgeous!!

*References: Greg Milner Perth at http://www.finetravel.com/asiaaustralia/crocs.htm
CNN article at http://www.cnn.com/2003/US/06/19/other.attacks/
http://www.bees.ucr.edu
http://www.mindspring.com/~bbsnews/neth-us1.htm

BLACK ADDER! BLACK ADDER!

SINGAPORE--I must apologize to Rowan Atkinson for stealing the title of his TV series. I have no right to it. It was only a big non-venomous snake.

Went jogging in the cemetery again today. Another beautiful kingfisher, a squirrel, and, suddenly, a frog! Hopped practically underfoot. I only realized the method in its madness when the black snake uncoiled onto the path after it. I stopped to watch the snake and the snake stopped to watch me. So smart the frog. The snake "rewound" into the grass.
Around the corner an unchained dog barked and chased me off its territory, the HDB site development office.

The frog got away this time. "Go forth and multiply! Make babies!" I want to tell it, to echo the voice of the Singaporean government to its citizens. After all, amphibians are suffering a sudden inexplicable decline worldwide. And as the frog goes, so go the snake and the kingfisher. But what's the use? The frog, the snake, the kingfisher--they represent the past. Just around the corner, the dog, the HDB office, the signboard announcing "Yan Seng, Exhumation Services"--they represent the future.

Elegy for Bidadari

SINGAPORE--I come here to the cemetery not to mourn. I jog! Only on the weekends can I jog in peace; only then can the residents rest in peace. For it's exhumation time, time to raise up new HDB (Housing Development Board) flats. Everything must go!

I am not the only one here today. I gasp at the bright blue back of a kingfisher in flight, the red head of a lizard that, I swear, rose up on its hind legs to run across the road, the fluffy yellow underbelly of a squirrel flicking its tail in one of the many trees shading the monuments.

They have no voice, these Singaporeans--the ones in the grave, the ones with wings or leaves or tails. And what's worse, like Singaporean retirees, they have no obvious economic benefit. So they must make way for young humans heeding the urgency of the ageing population "crisis" declared by the country's leaders. If you build it, they will come. Everything else must go.

I fly out of Singapore in three days. When I return, I will no longer come to this place to jog. I will mourn.

Sunspots

SINGAPORE--Went to my husband's family doctor because I had a raised mole that sprang up in just a couple weeks, on my arm. He took a look at it and asked, "Got any Irish ancestry?" I admitted to some. "Blue-eyed, lots of pigmentation..." He said it was sun damage and he cauterized that one and another one. Said I must use sunscreen and the best sunscreen is a long-sleeved shirt. If I sweat, it should be black. Good thing we're leaving Singapore soon. If I wear a black long-sleeved shirt here, I will die of heatstroke long before skin cancer becomes an issue. Luckily I was covering my sunburned neck with a scarf or I really would have got a scolding. (New short haircut.)

Went to a spa last month for a back treatment (still got acne problems, probably due to troubled skin--again the sun). They thought I was Chinese because of my name, so they gave me a Chinese therapist who didn't speak much English. Most Singaporean women don't take their husbands' names and my first name actually seems to be more common here than in the States. So you can see why they thought I'd be able to speak Hokkien or at least Mandarin. Now, the most common Chinese last name here is Tan. But that's my whole problem--I am not Tan! The therapist said, "Got a lot of pigmentation." I said, "I got a lot of sun growing up in California." She said, "Oh. How many son?"

Oldies but Goodies

SINGAPORE--Never thought I'd find inspiration as a naturalist at a watch convention, least of all at TEMPUS, produced by luxury watch seller The Hour Glass. How wrong I was.

An independent Swiss watchmaker, Philippe Dufour, told this story: The history of Swiss watchmaking is like a thick volume missing many pages. Whenever a watchmaker retires, another page is ripped out. Nowadays managers of watch factories are financial types, good at managing the bottom line, maximizing profits. When a watchmaker gets ready to retire, they feel relieved. He was the slowest on the assembly line, the most expensive with his six weeks of vacation. They don't realize how priceless his experience and knowledge were, his care and workmanship, and they probably will not realize until he is gone.

I feel the same about ancient trees. How priceless, inspiring, taken for granted like the air we breathe, the water we drink. How financially "worthless" they are as long as they live. Thank God for a few good national parks and for those who know how to find value in such things.