Dog Friendly

My fabulous weekend at the Biltmore in Asheville, North Carolina proved that I really can find a "dog friendly" town. Three of my dearest friends and I spent four days charmed by this smokey mountain city. As one might suspect, friends of mine are usually animal lovers, and we were all particularly excited to see the number of dog lovers milling about everywhere we looked. Even on the Biltmore Estate grounds people were walking all variety of dogs through the gardens to enjoy the festival of flowers.

Apparently, one living in the area can purchase an annual pass for only slightly more than the day pass most visitors buy. Any and every pass holder is free to walk their dogs about on a leash, although I doubt they are allowed in the estate house itself. For the really adventurous annual pass holders, one can even bring their horse in to ride the trails. I live too many hours away to take advantage of this, but I would certainly be a regular dog walker there if I could.

The Biltmore isn't the only dog friendly establishment in town. Dogs were abundant everywhere, and many of the area hotels, even the nicer ones, advertised allowing pets. In the downtown area, people were out walking dogs all around the city. Dogs were in the stores shopping or hanging out with their companion shop keepers. They were in the cafe outdoor areas enjoying tea and crumpets. One was even sunning himself in a local shop window display. Nowhere did I see a muzzle, nor did I find people cringing when a Rottweiler or a German Shepherd walked by. There was none of the seeming reticence about certain breeds, and one's best friend seems free to accompany them out most everywhere for an afternoon on the town. It was everything I expected from my visit to Paris, but didn't get.

I have said for many years, particularly in times when politics in this country were not going my way (like the dark days we have recently, and finally, moved beyond), that some day I was going to move to Paris. Last May, not having been to that city, I decided it was time to be prepared for the worst the following November. Plus, I wanted to be sure Paris lived up to my romantic ideal. Well, let me tell you, it's a lovely city, and contrary to their undeserved reputation in our country, the people were also lovely. At first, I was sure it was the city for me. The art, the architecture, the night life, the culture, all things were fabulous, and I was so ready to pack my bags until...I saw a man walking a very timid Rottweiler with a muzzle. The dog was panting and seemed uncomfortable in the humidity, and I couldn't understand why this sweet thing needed to be subjected to a caged mouth. My friend Leon explained in his very French accent, not knowing the can of worms he was about to open, that "Rottweilers are dangerous, and it is law that they must be muzzled if they are taken out in the public." I'm sure his ears rang for several hours after. He knows me well, and still speaks to me regardless of my response that day.

Rottweilers, yes, have the potential to be dangerous. So too does every single dog breed of every single size and shape. And, if one wants to talk about the danger factor, I will take a dog of any size over a cat any day of the week. I've said it before, folks, and I'll say it again, animals of every kind have individuality, for which I have coined the term "animality". Just like humans, each individual has the potential to be dangerous. Often, in the case of animals, it is the humans and their abuse or neglect that create the danger.

My first Rottweiler, Isabeau, was heavily abused by a drunk man for the first six weeks of her life. This was before I rescued her. She was horribly afraid of strange men, particularly if they were in their cups. A professional dog trainer and friend taught me to work with her so she would not snap, snarl, or growl at every man she met. Through positive reinforcement training, she became able to socialize in public, although being a smart dog owner, I was always mindful to keep her under control and away from parties and drinking. She was not, however, a fear biter as one would suspect, and she never needed to be muzzled, not even with her male vet during painful procedures due to cancer.

My current Rottweiler, Mercy, will help you carry out the television if only you offer her a cookie. Good thing I don't publish my address here, I guess. Be warned, however, that my dingo dog (below), a little thirty pound mutt, will be glad to chew off your right leg and your face and feed them to you, should you care to try it. My mother's Shih Tzu will be there to help clean off your bones, as well. He does a mean imitation of a dobie.

If I had to choose which dog to muzzle in public, it certainly would not be my sweet Mercy. Yet, when people see us out, they make a beeline for the cute little dogs and cringe away from the loving bigger one. For me, this isn't any different than any other form of prejudice. You cannot, and should never judge others, be it by race or species, simply by their outer appearances. In the case of animals, I suggest you might want to take another look here at my previous blog, The Danger Disconnect. A chimp looks mighty cute and cuddly, particularly when it grins at you, but you are a foolish person to approach one, especially if it's smiling.

Having the good fortune to have worked as a veterinary technician back in my younger days, before one had to be certified to do so, my co-workers and I quickly learned which animals were most likely to bite when handled. The worst of all were not even dogs or cats, but our clients feathered friends, particularly the parrots. I've seen them flay the skin open to the bone. This particular gentleman carried his macaw around an Asheville music festival all day, where perfect strangers were perfectly willing to hand it food. If you ask me, they are lucky they walked away with their fingers. If I were one to judge simply on a breed, I might be willing to suggest a muzzle for all Macaws.

But, let's keep it among the dogs for a moment. My fellow vet techs were known to come near blows over whose turn it was to handle to next Chihuahua that came into our clinic. We were perfectly happy to help restrain the larger breeds of dogs. After more than twenty years of zoo, vet medicine, pet sitting, and animal rescue work, I have only ever been bitten by numerous species of birds, several nasty little Chihuahuas, and a half drugged out Cocker Spaniel, who woke up during surgery. So, where does one get off saying that a certain breed is more dangerous and needs to be muzzled?

Enough has been said about a certain sports jerk who got caught dog fighting. Since any press is supposed to be good press, I will not even use that _____'s name(insert really nasty word of your choice here). Yet, most of his confiscated Pit Bulls have been rehabilitated, even after all of the horrible abuse they lived through at the dog fights. We watched the documentaries on television and saw them being trained to get over their fears. Most have been placed in loving homes, some even with children and other pets. Unfortunately, many of those families will certainly now have trouble renting a new home or finding insurance to cover them simply because they chose to do a good deed and give a home to an abused dog.

It is not now, nor will it ever be, simply a matter of the breed or the size of the animal that makes it dangerous. Every animal has this potential. A mouse can deliver death in one bite because of its ability to transmit disease. Perhaps we should make a law that all mice must be muzzled in the city, and if one chooses to keep these dangerous creatures as pets, one should certainly NOT be allowed to rent a home nor purchase insurance!
I hope this never happens again, but, if I ever find myself disgusted with my country in the future, I will not be moving to Paris, nor, I am sad to say, anywhere in France for that matter, unless they rethink some animal laws. Instead, I'll be looking for a place more like Asheville, where I can take Mercy and Cinco for a stroll on the town without muzzles, where we can enjoy a latte at the corner and shop together to our heart's desires. No city will be perfect, but this should be close enough for us.

All pictures provided by Amanda C. Sandos.

A Poem for the Nenes

I have been remiss about posting. This is about to change. Up until now, posts have been limited to full-fledged essays, rather than any kind of regular chat or blog. This has lost its excitement for me and does not allow me the time to post with any kind of regularity. So, I figure it's time to start inserting more of me into the mix, although I plan to keep the essays coming for those who have been enjoying them. Thanks again to all who have been reading and sending me notes. It means so much to every writer, no matter how big or small, that someone is out there reading what they have to say. Anyway, it already feels like I will enjoy coming here and writing again now that I've allowed myself the freedom to be less structured, instead of imposing deadlines and making the whole thing into some kind of a job. Who wants to return to that? Life is sweeter when we can keep the feeling of work to a minimum and fan up the fun.

So in the interest of fun fanning, I have decided to share with you a little bit of my poetry today. Now, the subject matter is a bit sad, I admit, but it's poetry, the writing I do for fun. Poetry for me is that fabulous stuff I know will probably never make me the first dime, and I don't really care because I love doing it. Regardless of the tone of the work, the fun of this is in sharing it with you.


The poem I chose is a tribute to the Nene Goose, state bird of Hawaii, and one of the fabulous species I had the great honor to care for during my time at Keauhou Bird Conservation Center on the Big Island, just outside of Hawaii Volcano National Park. These highly endangered geese now make their home at the tops of the volcanos. On the Big Island they stay mostly on the open rocks and grassy fields near the national park. You've already guessed that the top of an active volcano isn't really the best place for a goose, but alas, it's the home they are stuck with and they are making a slow but steady come back. The park rangers and conservationists have had quite a time in the ongoing effort to protect them from the introduced species of the islands (humans included). Anyway, an entry in one of my guide books to the island inspired this poem...

Nene Goose (Branta sandvicensis)
Volcano National Park, Big Island, Hawaii

She builds their nest under sparse scrubs, lines bare rock
with down, guards her mate while he incubates, moos soft
warning calls. Together, they hatch three chicks; survive
mongoose, black rats, dogs, cats, tourists, scientists. Together,
they find ohelo berries or dry fruits on stiff
pukiawes, always feeding
their young first.

The guidebook says: “This endangered goose has evolved;
prefers land to water.” Such strength in this state
bird, frame stunted like a miniature Canada,
only partial webbing between short, black toes.
Today, she stands beneath her own silhouette
on the yellow sign,

here on barren lava flows, along Chain of Craters Road
under pioneers; woody shrubs that first emerge from porous,
black rocks. Here, beside rerouted drives rebuilt each time lava
seeps out of fissures, buries asphalt. Here, where rain collects
in crevices heated by liquid rock, steams to scalding clouds,
miles above the sea.

Today, she guards his silent remains, hissing
with her three chicks in the middle of the desolate
road, under the Nene Crossing sign, goose
silhouette above, “Drive Slow”
in black letters below.

A Disappearance of Wings

The art of Pam Longobardi has inspired me to return to my keyboard and write about Hawaii’s endangered birds. I borrowed the title from the above installation, which combines portraits of extinct birds, antique coffin handles, and projected images of wings. Viewing it left my chest aching when I noticed that most of the portraits were native Hawaiian birds. While working on the Big Island as an intern with the Keauhou Bird Conservation Center, I learned that Hawaii is the Endangered Species Capital of the World. Why? Because, ever since the first humans set foot on the islands in approximately 400 A.D., there has been a disappearance of wings.

From the time I first flew over, I was awed by the beauty of Hawaii. I remember stepping off the plane to the exotic sounds and smells in the humid air. In particular, I was lured by the melodic songs of little yellow birds flitting near the outdoor baggage claim and the small grass huts at the Hilo airport. When I excitedly pointed them out to my friend, an avian biologist I was meeting, she told me they were introduced Japanese White-Eyes. I noticed a bright red Cardinal fly into the bushes near her car, and a Scarlet Macaw flew overhead as we drove away. While we toured the sights of Hilo, I was bursting with excitement to see native wildlife, but almost every plant or bird I pointed to was introduced. We didn’t begin to see or hear native species until we had reached her home in Volcano, at the top of Kilauea just outside Hawaii Volcano National Park. On the ride up the mountain, I was astounded to learn that seventy-five percent of Hawaii’s native birds were already extinct or endangered.

When I finally got to the native forests during my internship, I had to wonder why anyone would change such beauty. Yes, the islands are lovely in the lowlands where introduced species reign, but that beauty does not begin to compare to the lush dark greens and vibrant colors of the native forests. Much of the pristine forests are no longer open to the public, as wildlife officials from numerous organizations fight what often seems like a hopeless battle to preserve them. These lovely islands became home to animals and plants which traveled unimaginable distances across the sea to evolve into distinct species found nowhere else on earth. Yet, most of those distinct species are already gone, and those hearty enough to survive the most destructive introduced species, the human, are continuing to die.

Since the first Polynesian Settlers arrived, the birds have been disappearing. No one could blame the settlers for staying. After traveling over 2000 miles from the nearest land, they found islands with fertile soil and easy targets to hunt. These settlers brought crops like sugar cane and breadfruit and began clearing forests. The Polynesians, who celebrate their connection to nature, began to incorporate birds into their cultural traditions. Not only did they hunt them for food, but their feathers were used for decorations and clothing in religious ceremonies. By the time Captain Cook brought the first English explorers in 1778, some species were already extinct.

With the arrival of the Europeans, the islands changed more in the following years than it had in the 1300 years since the Polynesians first made land. Boat loads of settlers began to arrive. Apart from humans, two of the most destructive pests stowed away on these ships, the black rat, and the mosquito. Whole ecosystems began to disappear as land was cleared for homes and large-scale farm operations and the islands changed into what they are today.

Now, wild goats, pigs, deer, cows, and sheep trample the forests not already cleared by humans, uprooting trees and turning lush green havens into baron rocks and mud wallows. The forestry service must employ numerous people to hunt and kill these free-ranging animals. Mosquitoes spread malaria, avian pox, and avian TB to birds and humans alike. Feral animals run rampant, as people introduce more cats, dogs, and other animals onto the islands.

Of course, those trying to save the islands are not entirely blameless either. Scientists have taken numerous species from the wild for the purposes of study. One might find any number of stuffed native birds in museums around the world, caught and killed for education. Then, there are the colossal mistakes scientists made in efforts to eradicate pests. Perhaps the worst was the introduction of the Mongoose. This species was initially introduced to control the rat population, but those in charge didn’t pay attention to the fact that rats are active at night and the mongoose hunts during the day. Also, someone forgot to tell the mongoose that he should not eat birds and their eggs. Now, the mongoose is one of the worst pest species, proving good intentions are not enough.

In the face of such hopelessness, there are amazing people continuing to work towards saving the last remaining native species. Many work long hours, tirelessly attempting to clean up the mess to keep small parts of the native ecosystems intact so future generations can experience the hypnotic and distinct beauty that was Hawaii. CSI types like my friend test blood from hearty birds immune to some diseases and attempt to create more effective vaccines. Educators speak out to tourists and residents about ways to help save what little remains of the natural environments. Wildlife officials work around the clock to eradicate pests like the mongoose. Park officials pull up pest plants like the ginger, which is choking native plants, the staple foods for specialized native birds. And around the world, people like Pam Longobardi inspire and teach others about the disappearance of wings. To be equally inspired visit the Maier Museum of Art in Lynchburg, Virginia from January 20th – August 8th, 2009 or visit her website at http://www.pamlongobardi.com/ . To find out how you can help save the native species of Hawaii, visit the Hawaii Conservation Alliance at http://hawaiiconservation.org/ .

Keen Eyes

On a crisp day last week, we ignored the tufts of clouds threatening possible afternoon rain and drove thirty minutes straight uphill to Harvey’s Knob on the Blue Ridge Parkway. This is not an unusual past-time for us, when we feel we want to get away from the hustle and bustle of city living, but for the next few weeks, Harvey’s Knob will not be as quiet. What is bringing out the crowds? Why, the hawk migration, of course, and it’s a regular bird watcher’s party.

When we arrived, the parking lot was filled with people in their camping chairs, dogs at their feet, telescopes and binoculars trained to the skies. Everyone waved, happy to greet us, and a quick hello got us all the hawk counting statistics we needed to know for the day and most of the facts on last year’s counts from Virginia to Mexico and back again.

People from all walks of life had left their daily grinds to cluster on this particular scenic overlook. Apparently, bird watchers on similar mountain ridges across this vast continent join in hawk counts from mid-August all the way through late November. One couple said they planned their annual vacation around the hawks. They come to Harvey’s Knob every year, leaving jobs as a fire fighter and a school teacher to help HMANA, Hawk Migration Association of America, with their annual count. This year, they will spend two weeks of October in Veracruz, Mexico where the fire fighting bird counter reports, eyes sparkling, that they can see five to six million hawks fly by in one day.

The excitement is contagious. Groups of school students, retired businessmen, a police officer, and several medical professionals spent an enjoyable afternoon with us trading bird watching stories and information on good locations to see Raptors from Alaska to Florida. I found myself teaching some of the students and my mother some tricks on finding the birds with the lenses of their binoculars. Other volunteers patiently described where we all could see the sixth Bald Eagle of the day in a distant break between two fronts of clouds. Everyone, no matter how old or how experienced, felt the thrill when they joined in counting the day’s largest kettle of three hundred Broad Wings as they silently circled over our heads. Imagine our surprise when the day’s count for this one species at this one overlook totaled 3,604.

These stout bodied, brown and beige hawks are one of the first Raptor species to go, leaving their summer breeding grounds in the forests of North America in late August to mid-September. The Broad Wings are not an easy species to observe during their summers here. You will rarely see more than a glimpse of one circling overhead looking for prey. But, they become much easier to spot when they congregate to begin migration. They travel in groups called “kettles” that can number up to thousands of birds, and the groups get larger as they draw closer to their winter habitats.

A recent study by Cornell University used satellite transmitters attached to Broad Wings’ backs to track their migrations. The study found they averaged 111 kilometers or 69 miles a day and traveled over 7000 kilometers to the tropical forests of Central and northern South America. But, once they arrived in their wintering grounds, they inhabited very small ranges staying in territories that averaged just one square mile.

So, if Cornell is tracking these birds, why do they encourage so many volunteers to assist HMANA with their hawk counts? Well, one reason is that birds can be used as indicator species. That is to say, one can study data about their population numbers to track environmental trends and find potential problem areas. With migratory birds, the data collection becomes increasingly difficult when their ranges span continents. But, so too does the importance of knowing their status increase, because knowing if these species' populations are healthy could help scientists identify and address potential environmental issues before they can effect human populations over the many countries where the birds live and migrate.

How does one go about helping with the HMANA Hawk Migration Count? Well, that part is easy. Go to http://www.hmana.org/ to locate a watch area near you. Bring binoculars if you have them, but often you’ll find people with an extra set who are willing to share. You’ll want sunglasses, sun screen, and a comfy folding chair. No prerequisites and no experience necessary, just bring yourselves, your willingness to learn, and your keen eyes.

Endangered Emeril

Emeril is not just the name of a famous gourmet chef, but also the name of a famous endangered Green Junglefowl, an Asian rainforest chicken. When we first laid eyes on this beautiful iridescent green and blue bird at the North Carolina Zoo, we all agreed he looked too fancy to remain nameless. Then, his bright pink and purple crest fell lopsided over one eye like a French cap and someone said, “Bang! It’s Emeril, the gourmet chicken.” The name suited, and he became our aviary emissary for teaching the public why it’s important to protect the rainforests. What really surprised me was how much that little guy taught me.

For instance, until I started to research Junglefowl, I had no idea that all of the domesticated poultry we use today originated in the rainforest with these birds. Not only poultry, but most domesticated livestock including beef cattle also originated there. Of course, I knew that most of the fruits we eat like bananas, mangos, pineapples, all came from the tropical forests, but I didn’t realize that so too do most of our staple foods like corn, wheat, potatoes, and rice.

And let’s not forget the greatest unofficial food group, that of caffeine. Coffee is still grown in the rainforest because the climate is the best for producing the most beans, and in fact, one who is interested in helping to stop some of the deforestation can easily purchase shade grown varieties from their local Starbucks or the grocery store. This means the plants are grown by companies who no longer clear cut the forest to plant their crops, but grow them under the canopy. Tea is also a rainforest product discovered in Asia. But, the greatest of this food group is the Cacao bean from Central and South America, the very one that makes all things chocolate. Interestingly, this bean is also the oldest recorded form of human currency, once used by the indigenous people to trade for gold and other valuables.

Speaking of gold, we come to one of the many reasons the forest is still disappearing at an alarming rate. Many of the gems, chemical compounds, and minerals we rely on today are mined in the rainforest, including gold, sliver, iron, diamonds, emeralds, and amethysts. The compounds found in abundance in these forests make every day items like plastics, computer chips, and cell phones. Rubber comes from the resin of a certain type of tree, as does chicle for making gum, copal for making varnish and printing ink, and dammar for making lacquer. I look around my office and I am astounded by how much I use from the rainforest every day, right down to the antique wooden desk where I sit, the aluminum can I drink from, and the computer I use to type this article. Even the Peace Lilly and the Christmas Cactus I have to brighten up the space are both rainforest plants.

It is perhaps the plants which are the most important reason for protecting these resourceful areas. The medical industry still relies heavily on plants from these forests to treat many of the worlds most deadly and aggressive diseases. For instance, the only effective treatment for Malaria comes from the Quinine plant. Although, several synthetic drugs have been created, all of these have lost their potency over time, and the industry has had to return to the plant time and time again to treat this disease. Ironically, mosquitoes originally lived only in the high canopies of the forest, and had we humans not cut the trees down, these Malaria infested pests may never have moved to our level, and we may never have needed the Quinine plant.

Regardless, Malaria is not the only disease doctors treat from rainforest plants. The National Cancer Institute says seventy percent of all plants used in cancer treatments come from the rainforest, and new plants with amazing properties are still discovered every year. The Aglaia leptantha of Malaysia has been found to effectively kill twenty types of cancer cells in laboratory tests, including those that cause breast cancer, brain cancer, and melanomas. The WWF says, in the last twenty years 422 new species of plants were discovered in Borneo alone, and most have yet to be tested for their medicinal properties.

Now, if these things don’t make us want to place a higher importance on protecting the rainforests, let’s look at some really important basics for the survival of the human race. The rainforest is home to fifty percent of the plants on earth. We all know that plants create the very Oxygen we need to breath. If the rainforests continue to disappear at the current reported rate of an area the size of a football field every second, or 31 million football fields a year, will there still be enough Oxygen to sustain us all? The rainforest also acts as the world’s thermostat by regulating its temperature and weather patterns. Perhaps all of the strange weather and catastrophic storms we have been witnessing have something to do with the clear cutting of huge areas of said thermostat.

But, things grow fast in the jungle, right? Won’t it all just grow back? Unfortunately, the soil is very thin in these areas and the amount of rain produced is astounding. For an example, one fifth of the fresh water of the world is found in the Amazon Basin alone, and that water comes from the rains. So, clear cut forest equals vulnerable soil that is washed away very quickly leaving nothing but barren rocks. It seems absolutely plausible that if we continue to destroy the rainforests without any thought for the future, we may just find ourselves on the same endangered list with Emeril and his Junglefowl family.

Animality

Wilma-Lou Teal has something like a complex personality. She is difficult to please and she is not shy about letting you know it. She expects things to be completed promptly to her specifications, and if they are not, she will complain loud and long until things suit her. She goes her own way, even if it differs from the norm. She is a believer in diversification, and the need to accept cross-cultural relationships. She is also a fierce protector of her spouse. All of this is not uncommon for a woman of today, but might come as a surprise from a duck. Wilma is a Chestnut Teal, who lives at the RJ Reynold’s Forest Aviary of the North Carolina Zoo. You may consider it anthropomorphic for me to assign these human characteristics to her. I respond by saying that I’m fairly sure you have not met Wilma-Lou Teal or you might find yourself unable to resist doing the same. Let me introduce you.

Wilma is a small brown bird, about half the size of a Mallard, and she expects her food to be delivered on time. She will not be satisfied with the average dry duck feed. She expects greens and live bugs at every meal. If any of these things are not served on the dot of nine in the morning, Wilma will have something to say about it. She will come out of the water to follow her keepers around the exhibit stretching her head forward and retracting it in a repeating motion while emitting sharp, raspy quacks, like the duck on those famous commercials. At first, I thought it was the staff’s uniform colors that tipped her off on where to direct her complaints, yet visiting staff in the same uniforms are not harassed, nor are any visitors wearing similar navy polo shirts and khaki pants. Only those who work the exhibit daily are singled out, sometimes while visiting in their street clothes.

Although there was a Chestnut Teal male in the exhibit, one with a beautiful iridescent plumage and a green head, Wilma chose as her mate the exhibit’s Rosybill Pochard, known affectionately as Rosy by the staff. Rosy is a dark, black and gray bird with a large rosy colored bill. This unlikely couple has become one of the most strongly bonded pair of ducks I’ve ever worked with, despite the fact that each looks very different from the opposite sex of their own species. Neither of them, according to their natural histories, are monogamous birds, yet neither has shown interest in breeding with any of the other birds in the exhibit.

One morning when I stepped into the aviary, Wilma was standing by the exit door making a long cry that sounded like an infant crying for its mother, a long "waaaaaaa" that she repeated over and over. It did not take long to realize that Rosy was missing, and the staff began to search for him. Since Wilma was so focused on the exit doors, we soon asked the other keepers around the zoo to help us search outside in case he had managed to escape. We also used flashlights to look into the huge tunnels of the air handling system running beneath the aviary to cool and moisten the air. We found no sign of Rosy anywhere. Wilma spent several days in the area of the exit door crying until we had to post guards to make sure she didn’t get stepped on.

We began to think we might only find Rosy's body. However, the exhibit houses over four thousand plants, and although it was unusual for a carcass the size of his to disappear, it had happened before when a sick bird crawled up inside a hollow plant. Some birds had vanished entirely, not surprising since the exhibit was always crawling with ants and other flesh eating insects that came in through the soil floors. We began to feel sure Rosy had passed away and Wilma was grieving, but after several days by the exit door, Wilma moved to another vent area closer to the central pool where she wailed for a few more days until finally, at the end of a long week of guarding her from the visitors, she returned to the pool. We began to get complaints from those visitors who thought we must be doing something terrible to that poor bird to make her wail so. Over and over, we explained that she was mourning the loss of her mate.

We could not have been more wrong. As it turns out, Rosy had fallen through a sink hole in the exhibit, a hole which filled back in with soil each day when staff watered the plants and was not found until after Rosy's disappearance. He was buried in the soil near the exit door for an unknown period of time until he was able to make his way to the area directly below where Wilma had been standing to wail for the first two days. He was able to locate a pocket in the fiberglass seam of a large tunnel in the air handling system where he squeezed through and landed on the floor below. The large tunnel was not accessible to the staff without climbing gear and ropes. He had fallen three stories down from the seam and he was pinioned, made flightless by his previous institution.

Next, Rosy had to run between the blades of a jet engine fan into another adjoining tunnel, which was closer to the pool. He must have made it through the fan on speed and sheer luck. The evidence found showed that he had spent several days in the second tunnel. He then followed Wilma's calls to a wall where he found the air filters, and he managed to dislodge a filter and climb through to a third tunnel, which ran underneath the central pool. Fortunately, the third tunnel was accessed by the staff every other day in order to backwash the pool filter system.

After a little over a week, Rosy was found standing by the pool filter waiting to be rescued. His only injuries were a couple of chopped looking tail feathers and a mild limp. Suddenly, Wilma's strange vigil from the exit to the pool made perfect sense. Upon Rosy’s return, Wilma spent days helping him preen his feathers and they often slept close enough to touch sides. She has never been heard making the baby wailing sound again, not even when Rosy has been separated from her for medical procedures or health checks.

Wilma and Rosy have changed the way I think about animals. I find it amazing that even a duck could be capable of such things. We are so often taught that animals are not like us, that they should be treated differently. We believe they need humans to care for them, to watch over them and keep them, to be stewards for them. Some even take this notion a step farther and believe animals are here to be used by us. Certainly, they cannot think and feel like humans. Wilma and Rosy taught me that animals of all kinds, even ducks, are more like us then I ever imagined. They can and do accomplish amazing things. They can understand more then I gave them credit for, and they each have a unique individuality similar to the personality of a human. Maybe it’s time to find a word for this phenomenon in the English language. I propose animality.