Spotted Owl Economics

Last week the news reported the latest plans to protect the threatened Northern Spotted Owl.  The spotted owl is famous in the Pacific Northwest because of the decades-long battle between conservationists and industry with respect to the scope and cost of the owl’s protection.  The latest government report indicated that the population of spotted owls has dropped by 40% in the last 25 years, in spite of the government setting aside millions of acres to preserve its habitat, and greatly restricting the use of millions more acres of private and federal lands.  Now it seems that the problem is the Barred Owl.  The Barred Owl is simply moving into the protected territory and is a much more successful, albeit unprotected, owl.  The Bard Owl has no special privileges, but seems to thrive wherever it goes. The Spotted Owl has received special treatment by way of habitat preservation, criminal penalties for harm of the owl, and millions and millions of dollars in preservation, yet it cannot survive in nature, even with these Herculean efforts.  The latest government response is to announce an “open season” on the Barred Owl – yes, actually shooting lots and lots and lots of these owls – and further tinkering with forest management.

This sounds strangely like the economic policies we have observed over the last few years where the government has made its business to pick winners (“green” energy companies, pharmaceutical companies, Spotted Owls, GM, GE) at the expense of losers (coal, oil industries, non-GM carmakers, Barred Owls, everybody else) in the wild we know as “business”. The government gives its protection to the winners in the form of government loan guarantees, grants, easy regulatory approvals, seats at the grown-ups table when discussing industry policy, and outright beneficial legislation.  The losers,  in the meantime, are shut out from policy discussion, are faced with intense IRS scrutiny, regulatory hurdles, and vilification by the White House at every opportunity.

When the government picks winners in the wild or in business, it is interfering with natural and capitalistic survival forces.  No creature or business can evolve better survival traits until their survival is actually threatened – ask any small business owner you know.  Resources in nature or business are finite; we are all fighting for a spot at nature’s/banker’s table.  The poor Spotted Owl will fail to evolve because we won’t allow it to.  Similarly, coddled “green-energy”, or other favored companies will not evolve to become better financial survivors unless we shut off the spigot of state favoritism. Many have proven that the state spigot does not guarantee success:  Solyndra, Beacon Power, Evergreen Energy, A123 Systems, Fisker Automotive, etc. If these were such great, innovative, successful companies, how come they couldn’t get private funding?  How many healthy Barred Owls have had their tickets punched because they didn’t donate to the correct political cause?

At the end of the day, the Spotted Owls of the world cannot survive on their own in the wild, and the government response is to shoot great quantities of their competitors.  The government has picked a winner, and won’t change its mind or methods, and now there are a select group of people cashing in on these picks.  I’m not so sure that Spotted Owsl are all that threatened; I read about similar creatures in the news almost every day.  Barred Owl brethren beware:  you are firmly in the crosshairs.

How was your vacation, kids?….MOM BARFED!!!

The beauty and majesty of North Atlantic whales. NOT.

If you ask my children how our trip to Bar Harbor, Maine was, the first thing they will start yapping about is how “Mom barfed”. Sadly, they are not lying.
The day started innocently enough: buffet breakfast at our hotel, some wandering around downtown Bar Harbor, a great lunch at Geddy’s. As we were leaving lunch, the Whale Watch pier was right across the street. “If we hurry we can make the 1pm whale watch” I stupidly said. Cranky Daddy ran down to where passengers board the enormous boat and asked if we could still get on. “Sure thing” said the friendly people there. We rushed upstairs to buy tickets while they held the boat for us. I informed the folks there that we weren’t Kennedys, and that this was so nice, and they were all “it’s no big deal”. Indeed. So we hustled onto the boat and the man at the ramp told us that there are 3 to 5 foot swells out there, to which I answered, “Well it’s no fun if there aren’t 5 foot swells!” How prophetic. We got some seats in the cabin of the second deck, and the boat started hauling out to where the whales supposedly feed. It was a very rough ride. The plan was to ride out about an hour, since the feeding grounds were about thirty miles outside the harbor. About 20 minutes in, people in the cabin started moaning and groaning and clinging to their “Sic-Sac” bags. (I looked it up and “Sic Sac” is still a widely available brand of leak-proof sickness bags that look like they were made in 1952). I wasn’t loving being indoors, so I stumbled my way outside for some air. Cranky Daddy and Cranky Son #1 wandered around, and Cranky Son #2 wasn’t going to leave his seat at any time. I went downstairs to buy some chocolate to make our tummies feel better, and the boys ate all of it. Now the temperature in the cabin had gone up about twenty degrees. I had my choice of freezing cold and wet outdoors or very nauseous hot and miserable indoors. At this time, people in the cabin were vomiting everywhere, and the heat plus the smell was horrific. Cranky Son #2 wasn’t budging, so I was spending only a minute at a time inside the cabin.

Finally we arrived at the mythical whale feeding grounds. The fog was very thick, and there was no way in hell we were going to see any whales. The naturalists use all their tricks (except sonar???) to spot some whales, but they couldn’t find any. I now understand that whales are expert at not being seen. Next course of action: relocate by traveling really fast again in choppy seas. Yay! I remained outside fighting the sea spray which was better than the alternative spray indoors. Stop numbers two and three did not yield any better results for watching whales, so the crew determined that it was time to go, after viewing zero whales for almost two hours on choppy seas. Don’t worry, though – they guarantee whale sightings or you get a voucher for another trip - for free! I’m almost 42 years old an I’ve never been seasick, but as we started the relatively smooth ride home, every bit of my digestive tract registered its displeasure. I asked the Cranky Daddy to get me a bag. What? “GET. ME. A. BAG.” In retrospect it was about as calm as the “Bring me a bucket” line from Monty Python fame. I puked my brains out with my sons on either side of me. During the wretched affair, one son rubbed my back and said “let it all out – you’ll feel much better” while the other son held my hand and let me know that I would “probably want to brush those teeth, or maybe rinse your mouth out”. It’s really funny to hear your own words come back at you in such a circumstance – I’ll never say those things again.  They were very annoying and unhelpful. The four of us enjoyed the rest of the ride back to the harbor on the outside deck, where a man erupted in a spray of vomit two chairs down from us. He almost got it over the side. I like to think I  just took care of business discreetly and moved on, as opposed to the poor folks who were moaning and retching and making lots of noise like BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAH - HOOOOWAHHAHH and ROWWWWWFFFFF. Seriously dramatic.

It took two full days for the world to stop moving when I shut my eyes. Good times. I’m sure this event will make the “What is did this summer” essays that are perennially required during the first week of school. If we’re lucky, Cranky son #2 won’t illustrate it.

Atop Mount Gorham, Acadia National Park

Here are the Cranky Boys at the summit of Mount Gorham (elevation 525 feet).  They didn’t complain at all on this hike, even after the tougher climb to the South Bubble (elevation 766 feet) on the previous day.

A Rainy Day Haiku

Ducks on holiday
Wet sneakers stink up my house
Moss grows ‘tween my toes

ORCA Advocacy Group Denounces Sea World Violence

The Organization of Really Caring Animals (ORCA), a worldwide group of killer whales, has released the following statement about the violent attack of a human trainer at Florida’s Sea World theme park:

Yesterday, a terribly violent attack on a human was perpetrated by Tilikum, a mature male “killer whale”, the largest in residence at Sea World.  Our hearts go out to the trainer’s family, and we express deep sadness about the incident.  Tilikum was a rogue, antisocial creature, with numerous mental and financial problems.  We do not in any way condone the behavior of Tilikum, and we feel that he does not represent our species,  as we are a peace-loving group of mammals. 

We would also like to set the record straight:  first of all, we are not whales.  We are the largest variety of dolphin, and we are technically called Orcinus Orca, as opposed to the slur “killer whale”.  We happen to like to eat whales, and the implication is that we are uncivilized cannibals.  This is simply not true. Our kind has been around for almost 11 million years, and has had very little direct interaction with humans until the advent of captive Orcas, and your theme parks.  Since the 1970′s, there have been only two dozen Orca attacks, and three of them involved poor, misguided, defective Tilikum. These incidents are clearly exceptions to our otherwise peaceful lives.

We look forward to continuing to educate the public about Orcas, and encourage an ongoing dialogue to address any concerns as they arise.

Re-designed, kid-safe hot dog looks suspiciously like bologna

 

The new hot dog kids CAN'T choke on

The American Academy of Pediatrics called for a redesign of the hot dog, the food item that most commonly causes asphyxiation in children under six years old. Dozens of children each year choke to death on hot dogs, and the AAP has warned that “America needs a wake-up call on this issue”. The AAP has come up with a new anti-choke design, that looks suspiciously like sliced bologna. The group suggests that young children could eat the redesigned product in lieu of the existing one, though it is admittedly tough to cook on the grill at your next family bar-b-que.  Alternately, the AAP has recommended that strong warnings and labeling be added to all hot dog (and possibly sausage) packaging, warning parents of the risk of food asphyxiation when eating these products. The AAP is targeting baby carrots and grapes in its press conference scheduled for the end of next month.

Beware the Beagles

New York certainly has its share of problems: crime, economic hardship, Yankees fans, and a nanny-state government.  But now there’s something serious to worry about – packs of wild beagles running amok! It seems that the beagle population is out of control, and after rabbit-hunting season, these poor dogs are simply released into the wilds of Long Island.  This news report caught up with a woman who was terrorized by this band of unruly, yet cuddly cute beagles:

New York can be grateful that they have packs of beagles, and not gangs of raccoons, as they do in Florida.  There was an effort underway to catch the wayward raccoons that attacked a 74-year-old woman, but the sheriff was quoted as saying “Even if we capture a lot of raccoons we can’t be sure they are our suspect raccoons”.  I hope we don’t arrest any terrorists in Florida any time soon, and that the New Yorkers make sure they capture the right pack of beagles.  Here’s the footage (Sheriff Grady Rudd’s comment about the ‘suspect raccoons’ is not on the video):

 

Snow Day

 

How to get kids to eat carrots...

I know it’s Groundhog Day, and Punxsutawney Phil has joined the fight against Al Gore and climate change jiggery pokery, so I’m showing off the cool snowman we built over a week ago. Six more weeks!

Racial Profiling in the Suburbs?

Does it really matter what color the bear was?

A Tewksbury resident called the police and reported that a bear was in her back yard.  Over the next few days, more and more residents had called in and reported what looked like a black bear near their homes.  People familiar with the situation said that the callers said ‘bear’, not ’black bear’, and it seems that assumptions were made as to what color the bear or bears were.   Do you think people can really tell the difference, I mean, if there’s a bear in your yard, do you care what kind it is?  If you ran across a Grizzly in your back yard, would you say, “oh, this isn’t the black bear they were warning me about, it’s probably OK to harass this one”.  Police are reviewing all calls received about the bear to determine if any kind of objectionable profiling occurred. A reverse 911 call urged residents not to bother the bear, who is over six feet tall, weighing over 200 pounds, and can rip you apart like a newspaper left in the rain for a week.

The trees are so pretty this time of year…

..just don’t dump your stinking leaves in MY yard, butthead! A Randolph man put a bullet in his neighbor’s belly after doing just that. A trial by a jury of his peers will have him out defending his turf in no time.  The Randolph man could have justifiably stabbed the obnoxious neighbor if he lad let a dog crap on his lawn. That’s just how we roll in the suburbs.