DAILY QUICK READ - AUGUST 9, 2016

Do Humpbacked Whales Show Altruism?

Certainly they appear to behave better than humans.

In May 2012, researchers observed a pod of killer whales attacking a gray whale and its calf in Monterey Bay, California. After a struggle, the calf was killed. What happened next defies easy explanation.

Two humpback whales were already on the scene as the killer whales, or orcas, attacked the grays. But after the calf had been killed, around 14 more humpbacks arrived—seemingly to prevent the orcas from eating the calf.

For six and a half hours, the humpbacks slashed at the killer whales with their flippers and tails. And despite thick swarms of krill spotted nearby—a favorite food for humpbacks—the giants did not abandon their vigil.

It’s not clear why the humpbacks would risk injury and waste so much energy protecting an entirely different species. What is clear is that this was not an isolated incident. In the last 62 years, there have been 115 interactions recorded between humpback whales and killer whales, according to a study published this July in the journal Marine Mammal Science.

Wolf Pack Wiped Out

Humans in Alaska appear to have wiped out the longest studied wolf pack in the world.  Aggressive hunting has put an end to the East Fork pack.  I hope that someday, God will hold humans to account for what we have done to the planet and the wild creatures that He placed here.  (Even if you don’t believe in God, believe that there will be an accounting for humans.)

The world’s longest-studied wolf pack may have been wiped out, wildlife officials fear amid an escalating battle between federal and state authorities in Alaska over the aggressive hunting of predators such as wolves and bears.

The East Fork wolf pack, found near Denali, North America’s tallest mountain, was first researched in the 1930s and provided the first detailed accounts of wolf behavior and ecology. But years of hunting, trapping and habitat disturbance reduced numbers to just one known female, a male and two pups earlier this year. It’s now believed all may have perished.

Three of the four pack members fitted with tracking collars have now been killed by hunters in the past year. The possible demise of the entire pack, which was once a common sight for visitors entering Denali, also America’s largest national park, is likely to heighten criticism of Alaska’s intensive hunting of its largest predators.

Recycling Disaster

As commodities prices decline, recycling becomes much less viable economically.  So, where will all this trash go? 

The streets in California may not be paved with gold, but the trash cans that line them are full of money. Industrious scavengers can redeem aluminum cans, plastic containers, and glass bottles for hard cash (5 or 10 cents apiece), thanks to the state’s 30-year-old container deposit program.

Canners are a common sight in the city with one of the highest rates of inequality in the country. Elderly Chinese men and women sort through trash cans in downtown San Francisco, wearing aprons, gloves, and protective sleeves to keep their arms clean, pulling neatly sorted carts behind them.

But the income that many Californians rely on from canning is imperiled by a crisis for recycling centers.

We Can Recycle the Environment

If we work at it, we can turn wastelands into forests filled with wildlife and hope.

Twenty-five years ago, the Midlands villages of Moira, Donisthorpe and Overseal overlooked a gruesome landscape. The communities were surrounded by opencast mines, old clay quarries, spoil heaps, derelict coal workings, polluted waterways and all the other ecological wreckage of heavy industry.

The air smelt and tasted unpleasant and the land was poisoned. There were next to no trees, not many jobs and little wildlife. Following the closure of the pits, people were deserting the area for Midlands cities such as Birmingham, Derby and Leicester. The future looked bleak.

Today, a pastoral renaissance is taking place. Around dozens of former mining and industrial communities, in what was the broken heart of the old Midlands coalfield, a vast, splendid forest of native oak, ash and birch trees is emerging, attracting cyclists, walkers, birdwatchers, canoeists, campers and horse-riders.