A n i m a l   W r i t e s © sm
                                        
The official ANIMAL RIGHTS ONLINE newsletter
  

   
Publisher   ~ EnglandGal@aol.com                                       Issue # 05/16/01
        Editor    ~ JJswans@aol.com
    Journalists ~ Park StRanger@aol.com
                     ~ MichelleRivera1@aol.com
                     ~
sbest1@elp.rr.com

    THE NINE ARTICLES IN THIS ISSUE ARE:
  
    1  ~ On Misanthropy  by Andrew Linzey
    2  ~
My Precious Father Lived Dangerously 
    3  ~
From the Beakly News  by MamaDuck1@aol.com
    4  ~
A Quilt For The Mill Dogs
    5  ~
Alert From PeTA
    6
  ~ When I Got My New Dog
    7  ~ Your Pet May Be Dying
    8  ~ A Place for the Animals  by Ann Ketzlick
   
9  ~ Memorable Quote
  

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On Misanthropy  
by Andrew Linzey
from The Animals' Agenda - January/February 2001

Here's a confession:  I find most people untrustworthy, and not a few downright treacherous.  As I get older, I find myself able to trust fewer and fewer people.  I don't even seek new friends, and whatever solace I find is invariably not in the company of fellow human beings.

Now I know that is a shocking confession, and people will be right to complain.  Here is a theologian -- and a priest to boot -- saying these dreadful things about his fellow humans.  He should be ashamed of himself.

Well, I'm not proud of these words.  But my conclusion arises not from some abstract principle but rather from my own experience.  I have found humans (including myself) to be deeply flawed, irreducibly mean, and, in truth, the only unlovable species.

I venture to be so bold with my feelings because I know that they are shared my many animal advocates.  If one looks unflinchingly and regularly at the enormity of the evil we inflict upon other sentient, it is very difficult not, to put it mildly, to have a sense of the moral ambiguity of the human race.

Indeed, I regularly hear talk from animal advocates that seems pretty close to despair -- despair about our seeming inability to see a moral problem about animals, despair about the cruelty we inflict, and especially despair about the human capacity for moral self-improvement.  Such despair often leads to an indifferent, even hateful, attitude toward other humans.

However understandable such feeling may be, it is absolutely vital that we do not give way to them.  Most especially, it is essential that we do not fall into the trap set for us by animal exploiters who are only too ready to write us off as "human haters."  Sadly, I have heard some animal advocates saying that we should experiment on prisoners rather than animals.  And I have heard some advocates calling exploiters "scum" and other hateful words.

I do not believe that these sentiments represent the best of our movement, and neither do I believe that 99 percent of animal advocates are genuine misanthropes.  But we must be careful (and here I preach especially to myself) not to let our genuine sense of disillusion with the moral record of our own species spill over into negative, even hostile, attitudes.

It is not for nothing that George Bernard Shaw once wrote, "I know many [blood] sportsmen and none of them are ferocious.  I know several humanitarians; and they are all ferocious."

Most especially, we must not base any animal rights strategy on anything remotely resembling misanthropy.  I mention no names, but there are some people in our movement who at least speak as if animal rights can be secured at the expense of human rights.  Rather than chiding or rebuking sensitivity to humans, we need to build upon it -- and help individuals to enlarge it still further in the direction of other creatures.

Whenever I find myself recoiling in disbelief and moral repugnance at my fellow humans, I picture in my mind other exploited human subjects such as children cruelly abused, families facing grinding poverty, and minorities denied basic rights.  I say to myself, "These too are victims along with the animals."  Humans like animals, also need liberation.

In one sense, animal advocates have to believe in humanity.  We have to believe that we can do better.  Our whole moral case depends upon humans recovering some lost humanity.  Of course it mustn't be a starry-eyed optimism, without a deep practical grasp of the human potential for depravity, but perhaps it can at lease be a qualified optimism.  Speaking for myself, I find despair not only understandable, but also far too easy.

The Rev. Professor Andrew Linzey is a member of the Faculty of Theology, university of Oxford, England.  The U.S. edition of his book "Animal Gospel" is published by Westminster/John Knox Press.

  “Reprinted with permission from The Animals’ Agenda, P.O. Box 25881,
   Baltimore, MD 21224; (410) 675-4566; www.animalsagenda.org.”
   Email: office@animalsagenda.org
  

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My Precious Father Lived Dangerously
from The Times of India - May 10, 2001
contributed by KarenDawn1@aol.com

INGRID NEWKIRK

My father has died. On my desk are his medals from World War II and a photograph of him as a boy, playing with one of the many dogs he rescued and loved. There is also the wedding announcement of his marriage to my mother in 1942, his memoirs from the years he spent exploring the Indian Ocean, trekking in the Kulu Valley, looking for oil in the Persian Gulf, and watching the antics of giant crabs in the weeks leading up to the Atomic bomb test on Easter Island. These artifacts of a life sit here as I work, but I really don't know what to do with them.

The last time I spent time with my father, he knew he was dying. I didn't realize that we would never sit together again and talk, face to face. All I knew was that I had a plane to catch and there was work piling up on my desk in a distant city. Despite worsening pain, he must have treasured each moment that last evening, asking me to stay and talk to him at the dining room table as the dinner dishes were cleared away. He was too weak to sustain the conversation well and, not unusually, I found the going tough.

I was a disappointing "son," a girl who can only turn on a television, not build one, as he did, from bits. I remember my mother giving us one of "those looks" when she found us sitting on the running board of the car, and kerchiefs tied over our heads to keep out the Delhi sun, my father teaching me the "right way" to spit cherry pits. We got that same look from my mother when Daddy took me clambering over the rocks in the south of England, teaching me to pick mussels, then showing me how to remove their poisonous beards and steam them in vinegar over a camping stove.  And I can still see her smiling when my father taught me to drive by digging out his books on how to repair a crank shaft or some such mystery car part.

On that last evening together, we adjourned to the sitting room. I watched him sink into a comfortable armchair, wanting him to do the thing he was struggling to avoid. Close his eyes and rest. I was doing a crossword puzzle when I heard my father struggle to speak. His face had turned purple and he gasped for air. As if in a cruel game of charades, my father was demonstrating for my mother and me exactly what "crushing" chest pain means.  This tough man with the "stiff upper lip" actually cried out loud to be allowed to die in peace. This man, who had been so strong he had rolled boulders out of Kashmir roads, waded through flood waters in Bangladesh, fought in France in the Black Watch: my father, who played the mandolin and recited Kipling to his wife, had been made helpless by heart disease.

I have not touched meat and dairy products in thirty years, around the time the plaques in my father's arterial walls were just forming. I didn't push the health advantages of the vegan diet. My father liked his food too much -- from steak and kidney pie to that cholesterol bomb, the boiled egg -- to be swayed by my stories of mother animals mourning the loss of their infants and tales of the fear you see in all animals' eyes at the slaughterhouse. It wasn't that my father was unkind. He was not. But, somehow, I never found the right words to lure him away from the addicting taste of chicken curry and ice cream.

When my father developed prostate trouble, then heart disease, I sent him articles on the link between heart disease, cancers and stroke and a meat and milk-based diet. My admonitions fell on deaf ears. My father believed in God.  He also believed that when he died, he would be reunited with his parents and grandparents and all the wonderful dogs he had loved over the years. If he is right, he will be looking down on me as I write this. If so, I want to say, "Daddy, why didn't you listen to your daughter. If you had, you, mummy, the dogs and I would still be traveling together, still watching the sunsets over Marine Drive, Crater Lake or Kensington Park."

Ingrid Newkirk is president, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA).

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From the Beakly News
by MamaDuck1@aol.com

Each spring and summer orphaned altricial birds are brought to me by their so-called rescuers ("kidnappers" is a more appropriate term, in many cases).  Frequently, young birds and mammals leave the nest before they are able to fly or fend for themselves and spend many dangerous hours --
sometimes days -- on the ground. During this time, the parents are watching out for their fledglings, feeding them and teaching them by example.  This is necessary time, when they learn the call, song and behavior of their species, and to find appropriate food.

One method to determine whether or not a fully-feathered youngster has left the nest on his own is to note the length of its tail feathers. This is a good indicator of the bird's age and maturity. If the tail feathers are 1/2" long or more, the bird should be treated as an adult -- leave it alone.  If a fledgling with this stub of tail is hopping on the ground and unable to fly, the best thing to do is to place it up on a tree branch or high in a shrub in the immediate area. The parents are watching and are ready to go to it as
soon as you leave. Don't worry about getting human scent on the fledgling -- songbirds have an under-developed sense of smell.

A tiny unfeathered bird should be placed back in its nest if at all possible.  If you don't know where the nest is, keep the bird warm and safe until you make arrangements with a licensed wildlife rehabilitator for its continued care.  Do not attempt to feed a tiny nestling. It is surprising to note the number of people who mash worms and attempt to feed baby birds. An unfeathered nestling's immediate need is warmth -- minimum of 90 to 100 degrees ambient temperature. The normal body temperature of a small bird is 106 to 109 degrees, and hypothermia is the biggest threat to survival, not starvation.  Dehydration is the second life threatening problem. Drops of Pedialite can be placed at the side of the beak with a toothpick only if the tiny bird is thoroughly warmed. These tiny drops offered every 5 to 10 minutes will help prevent dehydration.

It is illegal to keep a federally protected bird without the proper permit.  Introduced species such as the house sparrow, European starling and pigeon (rock dove) do not fall into this protected category. The feathers, nest and eggs are treated as the bird itself and are illegal to have in one's possession. If you find a baby bird that has truly been orphaned and is too young to fend for itself, placement with a licensed wildlife rehabilitator is the best course of action. A rehabber in your area may be found through this website.

http://www.tc.umn.edu/~devo0028/contact.htm

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A Quilt For The Mill Dogs
from Dogshelter@aol.com

The dogs in puppymills live their lives on wire.  The law used to require that they had a solid resting surface so they could get off the wire but both the United States Department of Agriculture and the PA Department of Agriculture recently removed that requirement at the request of the mills.

So now the dogs have no solid surface to rest. They constantly balance on wires with their feet often falling through.  Many dogs are maimed when their feet and legs fall through the wires and get ripped off as they struggle to pull them back through.  The dogs also never have a blanket or soft bed to snuggle in.  Most of them live in rabbit hutch cages outside in the coldest of weather with no heat.

In memory of the dogs who have suffered and who are suffering, we are creating a quilt.  The quilt will be displayed at the Second Paws March Against Puppymills next May 5, 2002.

Everyone is invited to send in a block for the quilt in memory of a dog from the mills that they have loved or who has touched them, or in honor of the dogs who are suffering.  We have volunteers who will sew all the blocks together into a quilt.  The blocks can be of various sizes.  They should not be smaller than 6 x 6 or larger than 24 x 24.

Please feel free to email me with questions or send your block to Hearts United for Animals Box 565 Westtown,  PA  19395.

Thank you for caring about the dogs,
Lee Wheeler
Hearts United for Animals
http://www.hua.org
The Sirius Shoppe
http://www.ihelppets.com
The only store where all the profits go to shut down puppymills.

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Alert From PeTA  
from SDurbin@tulsa.cc.ok.us

Recently we learned that some people concerned about animals have received questionnaires or surveys from a company identifying itself as Strategic One in which they are asked, among other things, to state whether they support PETA or other animal protection organizations by name and numerous other questions designed to identify the issues that are important to them. It is possible that such surveys are sponsored by organizations, such as the pet shop trade and the animal circus business, that are opposed to our efforts to help animals and that these polls are designed to extract information valuable to their continued use of animals.

If you receive such a questionnaire or survey, we suggest that you not respond and that you alert PETA. Thank you.

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When I Got My New Dog
Author Unknown

* I asked for strength that I might rear him perfectly;
    I was given weakness that I might feed him more treats.

* I asked for good health that I might rest easy;
    I was given a "special needs" dog that I might know nurturing.

* I asked for an obedient dog that I might feel proud;
    I was given stubbornness that I might feel humble.

* I asked for compliance that I might feel masterful;
    I was given a clown that I might laugh.

* I asked for a companion that I might not feel lonely;
    I was given a best friend that I would feel loved.

* I got nothing I asked for,
    But everything that I needed.

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YOUR PET MIGHT BE DYING!

We understand you meant to be kind in taking your pet with you today, but you could be risking his or her life. On hot -- or even warm -- sunny days, the inside of a car heats up very quickly. Dark colored cars can become very hot inside, even on days that don't seem too hot to take your dog along.  On an 85-degree day, for example, even with the windows slightly open, the temperature inside a car can climb to 102 degrees in 10 minutes, to 120 in 30 minutes. On warmer days it will go even higher. A dog's normal body temperature is 101.0 to 102.5 degrees Fahrenheit. A dog can withstand a body temperature of 107 to 108 degrees Fahrenheit for only a very short time before suffering irreparable brain damage -- or even death. The inside temperature of the car is too hot for anyone, especially your dog.  If your dog is overcome by heat exhaustion, immediately soak him or her down with water and take to a veterinarian as soon as possible. 

[Editor's Note: Enlarge the above, print, and keep with you in your car in case you see a dog being left in a hot car.  In an emergency, seek immediate help from police or other official, if a dog (or cat) is in distress in a hot car.]
submitted by LaZahn@aol.com

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A Place for the Animals
by Ann Ketzlick

Oh, Loving God
Who created them all,
From small creeping bugs
To giraffes to tall.

Who in our care
Has placed your creatures
I ask, "Why is cruelty
One of man's features?"

Forced to give us food
And pull our carts,
Have we no pity
For their broken hearts?

Science and Medicine
Are yet another tool,
For causing them pain
And being so cruel.

And when the circus
Comes to town,
Do we see their tears
When the curtain goes down?

Some people wear fur
As they stroll through the city,
I think it's so heartless
And not very pretty.

Deep in the woods,
A place some call their home,
They run in great fear
From the hunters that roam.

Their sad eyes show us
There's no understanding,
Why man is indifferent
And so very demanding!

They give up their lives,
They give us their best,
All they are asking
Is a place just to rest.

And so, My Dear Lord
I Pray unto You,
Save a place in Your Kingdom
For the animals too.

Copyright © 2000 by Ann Ketzlick. All Rights Reserved
May be used in unchanged form by avowed Animal Rightists if
accompanied by this copyright message.

Animal Rights Counterculture
http://www.animalsong.org

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   Memorable Quote

  "I am only one; but still I am one.  I cannot do everything, but still I can do something.  I will not refuse to do the something I can do."
                                                                                    ~ Helen Keller

 
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   Animal Rights Online
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The Animals' Agenda Magazine: WebEdition
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