gun-fucious
Member
Good looks help swans, hurt bay
Candus Thomson -- On the Outdoors
Originally published September 14, 2003
http://www.sunspot.net/sports/bal-sp.thomson14sep14,0,6689248.story
"Beauty," said philosopher and junk man Fred Sanford, "is only skin deep. But ugly is to the bone."
Ugly to the bone is exactly what mute swans are, and don't let any bunny hugger tell you otherwise.
Mute swans are not good citizens. They elbow (beak?) aside native birds, eat vast quantities of aquatic grasses vital to the Chesapeake Bay's health, poop and make more swans. That's their curriculum vitae.
They were let loose by folks who didn't know any better, and the number of birds here has grown from five in 1962 to 3,624. At the present rate, the population doubles every eight years.
Well-financed animal rights groups are standing in the way of a federally approved plan to cut the number of swans by half over 10 years. The state is wasting tons of time and energy fending off legal challenges when it should be out on the bay thinning the herd, so to speak.
On Tuesday, a federal judge issued a temporary injunction barring the state Department of Natural Resources from killing any adult swans pending the outcome of a lawsuit. Another hearing is scheduled for Wednesday.
Anglers, who already are dealing with algae blooms and dead spots on the bay, should be outraged.
"Every fisherman ought to know that if they lose the submerged aquatic vegetation, they lose the bay," says Jonathan McKnight, DNR's mute swan point man.
"They're going to have a ditch to fish in, and every year we'll be left hoping that some bluefish come into the bay. But there will be no reason for the blues to come here. There will be nothing for them to eat."
Now consider the fates of two other invasive species in Maryland.
Remember just a year ago, when northern snakeheads ruled a scummy little pond in Crofton?
The snakehead resume: Discarded in 2000 by someone who didn't know any better. Breeds prolifically. Threatens native fish.
State biologists poured enough poison into the water to make the old biddies in Arsenic and Old Lace envious. And except for a tongue-in-cheek protest by a couple of listeners of a rock station, no one raised a stink.
Over on the Eastern Shore, the problem beast is an orange-toothed rat called the nutria. Resume: Dumped here in the 1940s. Breeds prolifically. Eats marsh vegetation at a rate of 500 to 1,000 acres annually.
Maryland has a scorched-earth nutria policy. Shoot them, strangle them, bite their heads off like a circus geek - the state won't stop you. And don't worry about any fussing from the Humane Society or the Fund for Animals or PETA.
What gives? No protests by people in nutria suits. No lawyers whining in court for the snakehead. No hair-brained schemes to relocate either of the critters.
The difference?
Skin-deep beauty vs. bone ugly.
The difference in attention didn't escape the attention of Steve Christian, a board member of the Maryland Sportsmen's Association.
Christian says there's a reason groups such as the Fund for Animals squawk sometimes and, well, duck other times. The slimy snakehead and its rodent counterpart don't make nice posters and coffee mugs, don't look good in commercials and don't attract sympathy. In other words, you can't make a dime off them.
The majestic swan, on the other hand, is the Jerry Lewis of animal rights fund raising.
Repeat after me: Millions for mutes; nickels for nutria; squat for snakeheads.
The second part of the animal rights' strategy involves diverting money from your adversary, Christian says.
"Money for the operation of wildlife agencies is provided by various sources. Chief among them are Pittman-Robertson [Act] federal dollars and the money hunters provide through the purchase of hunting licenses, fees and stamps.
"By siphoning off these funds to respond to frivolous lawsuits, animal funds groups are hindering efforts to enhance ... hunting and trapping," he says.
Christian notes another discrepancy in the animal rights argument: "In the case of the mutes and other waterfowl species, animal groups claim that egg addling is non-lethal. This is not true. The suffocation or complete destruction of the egg's embryo is lethal, so they are killing a developing life."
You have to admit there is a certain bizarre quality to a line of reasoning that concludes it's OK to shake swans to death in their shells but barbaric to shoot them or give them a lethal injection once they're flapping around.
One final thing: Each time there's a proposal to increase deer-hunting opportunities or open a black bear season, the animal rights folks propose "non-lethal" programs. But when it comes time to pay the bill, where are they?
Take, for example, Maryland's $5 Black Bear Conservation Stamp, which was supposed to help compensate farmers for damage to crops caused by bruins.
Great idea, except for one tiny detail. The stamps proved as popular as a hair in a punch bowl. The amount of money raised wouldn't pay for a family crab feast at Gunnings.
And, as a matter of fact, the Black Bear Task Force appointed by the Glendening administration recommended eliminating the stamp because: "The present investment in this program [time, energy, manpower and materials] is greater than the revenue generated."
Pro-swan factions say there are bigger offenders on the bay than the birds. Development and farm runoff do far more damage to bay creatures.
That's true. But when it comes to protecting the bay, we have to grab what we can get. Dealing with planning deficiencies and pollution are long-term battles. Swans are low-hanging fruit we can deal with right now.
The state doesn't want to kill all the swans. It wants to get the flock under control. That's called management, and it is what DNR is supposed to do.
It's time to stop this silly legal shuffle. The orchestra is tuning up to play a swan song. Let's all sing along.
Candus Thomson -- On the Outdoors
Originally published September 14, 2003
http://www.sunspot.net/sports/bal-sp.thomson14sep14,0,6689248.story
"Beauty," said philosopher and junk man Fred Sanford, "is only skin deep. But ugly is to the bone."
Ugly to the bone is exactly what mute swans are, and don't let any bunny hugger tell you otherwise.
Mute swans are not good citizens. They elbow (beak?) aside native birds, eat vast quantities of aquatic grasses vital to the Chesapeake Bay's health, poop and make more swans. That's their curriculum vitae.
They were let loose by folks who didn't know any better, and the number of birds here has grown from five in 1962 to 3,624. At the present rate, the population doubles every eight years.
Well-financed animal rights groups are standing in the way of a federally approved plan to cut the number of swans by half over 10 years. The state is wasting tons of time and energy fending off legal challenges when it should be out on the bay thinning the herd, so to speak.
On Tuesday, a federal judge issued a temporary injunction barring the state Department of Natural Resources from killing any adult swans pending the outcome of a lawsuit. Another hearing is scheduled for Wednesday.
Anglers, who already are dealing with algae blooms and dead spots on the bay, should be outraged.
"Every fisherman ought to know that if they lose the submerged aquatic vegetation, they lose the bay," says Jonathan McKnight, DNR's mute swan point man.
"They're going to have a ditch to fish in, and every year we'll be left hoping that some bluefish come into the bay. But there will be no reason for the blues to come here. There will be nothing for them to eat."
Now consider the fates of two other invasive species in Maryland.
Remember just a year ago, when northern snakeheads ruled a scummy little pond in Crofton?
The snakehead resume: Discarded in 2000 by someone who didn't know any better. Breeds prolifically. Threatens native fish.
State biologists poured enough poison into the water to make the old biddies in Arsenic and Old Lace envious. And except for a tongue-in-cheek protest by a couple of listeners of a rock station, no one raised a stink.
Over on the Eastern Shore, the problem beast is an orange-toothed rat called the nutria. Resume: Dumped here in the 1940s. Breeds prolifically. Eats marsh vegetation at a rate of 500 to 1,000 acres annually.
Maryland has a scorched-earth nutria policy. Shoot them, strangle them, bite their heads off like a circus geek - the state won't stop you. And don't worry about any fussing from the Humane Society or the Fund for Animals or PETA.
What gives? No protests by people in nutria suits. No lawyers whining in court for the snakehead. No hair-brained schemes to relocate either of the critters.
The difference?
Skin-deep beauty vs. bone ugly.
The difference in attention didn't escape the attention of Steve Christian, a board member of the Maryland Sportsmen's Association.
Christian says there's a reason groups such as the Fund for Animals squawk sometimes and, well, duck other times. The slimy snakehead and its rodent counterpart don't make nice posters and coffee mugs, don't look good in commercials and don't attract sympathy. In other words, you can't make a dime off them.
The majestic swan, on the other hand, is the Jerry Lewis of animal rights fund raising.
Repeat after me: Millions for mutes; nickels for nutria; squat for snakeheads.
The second part of the animal rights' strategy involves diverting money from your adversary, Christian says.
"Money for the operation of wildlife agencies is provided by various sources. Chief among them are Pittman-Robertson [Act] federal dollars and the money hunters provide through the purchase of hunting licenses, fees and stamps.
"By siphoning off these funds to respond to frivolous lawsuits, animal funds groups are hindering efforts to enhance ... hunting and trapping," he says.
Christian notes another discrepancy in the animal rights argument: "In the case of the mutes and other waterfowl species, animal groups claim that egg addling is non-lethal. This is not true. The suffocation or complete destruction of the egg's embryo is lethal, so they are killing a developing life."
You have to admit there is a certain bizarre quality to a line of reasoning that concludes it's OK to shake swans to death in their shells but barbaric to shoot them or give them a lethal injection once they're flapping around.
One final thing: Each time there's a proposal to increase deer-hunting opportunities or open a black bear season, the animal rights folks propose "non-lethal" programs. But when it comes time to pay the bill, where are they?
Take, for example, Maryland's $5 Black Bear Conservation Stamp, which was supposed to help compensate farmers for damage to crops caused by bruins.
Great idea, except for one tiny detail. The stamps proved as popular as a hair in a punch bowl. The amount of money raised wouldn't pay for a family crab feast at Gunnings.
And, as a matter of fact, the Black Bear Task Force appointed by the Glendening administration recommended eliminating the stamp because: "The present investment in this program [time, energy, manpower and materials] is greater than the revenue generated."
Pro-swan factions say there are bigger offenders on the bay than the birds. Development and farm runoff do far more damage to bay creatures.
That's true. But when it comes to protecting the bay, we have to grab what we can get. Dealing with planning deficiencies and pollution are long-term battles. Swans are low-hanging fruit we can deal with right now.
The state doesn't want to kill all the swans. It wants to get the flock under control. That's called management, and it is what DNR is supposed to do.
It's time to stop this silly legal shuffle. The orchestra is tuning up to play a swan song. Let's all sing along.