Vacationing in New York City–Part Two


We tried to pick a non-rainy day to go to the Bronx Zoo.  Yet, when we arrived, storm clouds swirled; it did not look good.  Luckily, the threat never materialized.  I had forgotten just how large it is. This June, the vegetation reminded me of a tropical jungle except the species of plants differ.

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This zoo is huge and old with elegant, classical style buildings.

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These photos were taken in the Madagascar building.

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Water flows everywhere, making for a very natural feeling environment for many of the animals.

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The okapi can really blend in with its forested environment.  This is one of my grandson’s favorites.

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The gorilla area is so large I was never able to discern its perimeters.  This seemed good to me; they have lots of room.

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If you do not want to spend much of your time walking from exhibit to exhibit, some of which are not close to each other or are very large in terms of acres, a shuttle circles the zoo regularly and you can get off and on at various stops.

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Another option is to ride the Monorail which goes all around the huge Asia exhibit.  The only downside is, due to the area in which the animals have to roam, you may not see many up close.  Can you find the tiger?

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This is an Asian rhino and we were told she especially likes hanging out in the water.

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Red pandas are not related to pandas at all.  Although they are a unique species, they are most closely related to raccoons and weasels.

Many people criticize zoos and would rather have animals roaming free.  Sadly, some animals are already extinct in the wild.  A number of animals at the zoo fit this category.  In some cases the zoo has a breeding program and are working on reintroduction programs which will reintroduce extinct species back into their original wild habitats.

No matter how you plan to get to the zoo, you are going to have to walk some distance unless you hire a car or taxi.  You can take the subway and walk about 1/2 mile or so, or you can take the bus but will have to walk to the correct bus stop to catch the express bus which stops near the zoo entrance.  We took the bus which allowed us to get a sort of “tour” of Uptown, Harlem, and the Bronx.  It was comfortable and not very crowded.  I took the following photo at 124th street.

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A small community garden.

 

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You, yes, you can make a difference


Many tell me or believe that one person, him or herself, cannot do much to change the world, to make a difference.  This short movie tells about a man in northeastern India who transformed a wasteland into a forest by planting one tree at a time over many years.  Now elephants, deer, and even tigers live there.  Take a look for yourself.  Look for the youtube video called “Forest Man”.  The web address is :

It won awards at several different film festivals including Cannes.

 

 

 

Another bill aims to take wolves off endangered list


For a number of years I have mulled over reasons why humans seem to hate wolves considerable more than other predators. I have my own “theories”. What are yours?

Wolf Is My Soul

January 10, 2017

A gray wolf moves through forested country in winter. Credit: MacNeil Lyons, National Park Service

The new Congress wasted little time in efforts to once again remove gray wolves from the federal endangered species list.

A bill introduced Tuesday by U.S. Reps. Collin Peterson, D-Minnesota; Sean Duffy, R-Wisconsin; and Liz Cheney, R-Wyoming, would overrule a federal court action and remove federal protections from wolves in the Great Lakes and mountain west.

That already happened once, but a judge’s decision in late 2014 restored federal protections after wolves spent about three years under state control.

The members of Congress, and the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, say wolves have recovered enough in those areas to remove protections. But wolf supporters say the wolf hasn’t recovered over enough of its original range to remove protections in the few states where it is thriving, like Minnesota and Wisconsin. Wolf supporters…

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Norway Plans To Kill Most Of Its Wolves


It has always puzzled me why wolves are hated more than other predators. Wolves are a lot like humans. Do we project our worse traits on them? They kill few livestock when compared to deaths due to disease, weather, etc. I am interested in feedback regarding this question.

Wolf Is My Soul

September 21, 2016 Source

There aren’t many wolves left in the Norwegian wilderness Just 68, in fact.

But Norway’s government has decided even that’s too many. Authorities announced plans this month to kill 47 wolves, or about two-thirds of the remaining population.

FLICKR/BJARNE LOHMANN MADSEN

The move has sparked both intense criticism and praise. Farmers welcome the cull, claiming wolves threaten their livestock, and therefore their livelihood. Conservationists, on the other hand, condemn the move as an attack on a species that’s already on unsteady ground.

“The wolf population is already very small and critically endangered,” Silje Lundberg, a prominent Norwegian environmentalist, told the U.K.’s Express. “To eradicate 70 percent of such a vulnerable species is shocking.”

FLICKR/~RANVEIG MARIE~

In Europe today, there are an estimated 12,000 wolves — a population that has surged in recent years. But only in Norway is the species listed as…

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Isabella–En Memorium


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The crematorium handed me the 6″ by 4 ” dark brown wooden box.  I knew it would be heavy; Isabella was an eighty pound wolf dog. I thought I was prepared.

Driving home, memories:

March 2006, daughter calls; two year old grandson wants a beta. I drive to PetSmart.  Daughter tells me I must see these unusual, incredible seven-week-old puppies.  Alert brown eyes look at me.  Too big, black ears wiggle.  The label says wolf, German Shepard, Blue Heeler.  The two remaining puppies look like light colored German Shepherds or Belgium Malinois.  I had not planned to get a dog, not yet.

Two years later I move into my new house:  canyon edge, horses, bobcats, coyotes, foxes, road runners, mockingbirds, rattlesnakes.  Isabella guards her property, sits on the patio where she can check for invaders.  She rarely barks, growls.  When she does, high alert–I check.  Neighbor dogs, coyotes, foxes, chased off–not bobcats.  She watches them.

I remember the day she dismembered a skunk, drug the carcass everywhere.  After eleven baths at PetSmart, the skunk smell remained.  The one day she growled, I shocked, investigated–a man walking down the arroyo toward the house.  Growls became increasingly loud.  Out on the patio, she stands, the man sees her, turns and runs.  I feel safe, Isabella guarding, telling me if something unusual occurs.  She’s mixed breed; I think she’ll live long.

Every morning, evening, she completes horse chores with me, chases bunnies, roadrunners.  Two months ago, I, mesmerized, watch her catch, gobble two half-grown bunnies in less than one minute–nothing left.  Mixed breed; I think she’ll live long.

Friday morning she helps me with chores, chases bunnies.  Friday afternoon she can hardly move.  At the vet, blood work like a four year old; x-ray shows a little something wrong.  They give her two shots, schedule an ultra-sound for Saturday morning at another vet’s.  Meds working, Saturday morning she’s her usual lively self, eager to travel in the truck, nose wet and cold.

Ultrasound vet tells me there’s little hope.  Shocked, I stand there.  “If she were your dog, what would you do?”

“Put her to sleep.  She’s not in pain.  She has a tumor the size of your small fist on her intestines–might be cancer, hard to operate.”

I look at the vet, frozen.

At 8:00 Wednesday evening, I open the box, take out the bag of Isabella’s steel grey ashes, walk out to her patio spot, the place where she guarded her kingdom, toss a handful of ashes into the wind, watch them float and scatter down into the canyon, tears tracking down my face.  I close the bag, walk to the place where our long yearling colt, Star, is buried, dig an eight inch hole, bury another handful of ashes.  I take the one tablespoon of ashes left back to the house, put them back in the black velvet bag and into the box with the card with her paw print, the crematorium certificate, the sympathy card signed by all the employees where they euthanized her, place it on top of a stack of old magazines in the Chinese cabinet.

At bedtime, I forget, go to call her in.  This morning I find her hairs–she shed so much, wolf undercoat.  Evidence of her presence permeates.

It will never end.

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