My wife continuously makes fun of me (and we're married over 50 years) for reading that "pinko Commie rag." She gets that opinion of the paper from her father growing up in the 50s and 60s who, like many adults of that era, considered the paper to be connected to the Communist Party.
This stems from their notorious reporter, Walter Duranty, who in the 1930s filed glowing reports about life under Stalin. It became a big deal in journalism, and resulted in efforts to yank the Pulitzer that was awarded to Mr. Duranty. That never happened, however.
But enough about that, other than to establish that I've been reading the paper for many years, and don't care about my wife's opinion, or believe I'm reading propaganda from the Kremlin. If it's there, I dance around it.
Where else but in a Saturday edition can one read about Canadian beavers? And not just tucked away deep inside. Page 1. Saturdays are slow news days, especially during the summer when the movers and shakers have either not reported in on Friday, or have left early for the weekend.
I've noticed this Saturday trend for many years. Mondays, too. You can usually count on a story that is of human interest, or in this case, of animal interest.
You might expect a story about beavers to actually carry a picture of one. No. There is some sort of Page 1 aerial view of what is described as beaver built dams blocking water flow, and inside pictures of scientists who are tracking the little fellas with what else, drones. But no picture of a beaver. Were that they hard to find? The aerial shot looks like a very bad case of foot fungus.-----------------------------------------------------------
And its those damn dam builders that have the good folks in Umiujaq, Quebec, a seaside community 700 miles south of the Arctic Circle, hard by Hudson Bay, scratching their heads. The Arctic char, a fish that is a staple of the Inuit's diet, cannot leap over the beaver dams like a salmon can. Therefore, the char do not reach this tiny enclave, and the residents are experiencing "food insecurity." Yes, even Inuits can have "food insecurity."Despite the size of a char being nothing close to being a tadpole, it is not a pole vaulter. And those damn damming busy beavers have built dams as big as school buses that prevent the fish of getting to where the Inuits can fish for it.
Of course, Global Warming is behind the trend of the beavers seeking colder waters and swimming further north than they used to. Up to now, there is nothing that I found remarkable about the story. However, there on Page 1, leading off the 6th paragraph are the words I never expected to read: "The Furry Pyriform rodents..." A showstopper sentence.
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| Capybara |
Beaver pelts were once all the rage to make coats out of. John Jacob Astor made a fortune providing beaver pelts to the swells of the late 18th and early 19th-centuries in the Gilded Age.
I wonder how popular the pelts and fur pieces might have been if it were widely known that the beaver was a rodent. "That's a nice rodent you've got on today."
When the Interborough Rapid Transit (IRT) subway system was burrowing under 4th Avenue in Manhattan (Yes Virginia, there still is a 4th Avenue, below 14th Street.) into what is now the 4, 5, and 6 lines and it passed through Astor Place, there were mosaic designs placed along the station's wall to identify to the immigrant population that perhaps couldn't yet read, that they were going through Astor Place because of the beavers portrayed on the walls. Astor equaled beavers. Simple. If you know, you know.The mosaics are still there, as are the ones showing a locomotive for the 42nd Street Grand Central stop. There are others along the line. Subway lore.
I'd be remiss if I didn't include two stories about beavers from the 50s. The first is the obvious one: the 'Leave It to Beaver' 1950s TV-family of dad Walt; pearl-wearing mom, June; oldest son Wally with a varsity high school sweater, and of course the younger brother who the show is named after, Beaver.
All lessons in life come from this family. Dad is a briefcase toting office worker; Mom runs the house. Wally is always trying to explain things to Beaver, and Beaver is sometimes confused, but he's cute.
Beaver's birth name is Theodore, but when he was born, Wally was but a tyke himself, and he couldn't pronounce 'Theodore.' It came out 'Beaver.' Well, that's what they say.
The next beaver association is when I was in the back seat with Billy Gabler, in a car driven by his father, with my dad in the front passenger seat. (We didn't have a car.) For some reason, the game was to see who could be the first to see and call out on seeing a station wagon on the road and yell "beaver." I swear. I don't remember keeping score, which was almost as unusual as calling out "beaver."
We weren't the only car-trip tykes passing the time this way. This was a recognized game known to others. It is now after writing this that I'm wondering how did the word 'beaver' come to be associated with a station wagon sighting?Say what you will about AI, but ChatGPT offers a cogent explanation: station wagons of the 50s were often 'Woodies.' wood paneled cars. Since a beaver chomps wood, seeing a station wagon required acknowledging it with a yell of "beaver." We were not selective. Any station wagon counted as a beaver sighting to us. Our rules.
So, at 77, with the help of AI, there's a possible explanation for why "beaver" got called out when seeing a station wagon. I'd love to share this with Billy Gabler, but I can't find him.
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