
There is so much very good literature about deer which is full of good science and proper citations that the idea of spotlighting a very bad book on the topic in a positive light in a national publication seems pointless and foolish. Such is the case with
the NY Times' review today of a book by Elizabeth Marshall Thomas entitled 'The Hidden Life of Deer.'
In the first place, Ms. Thomas unashamedly admits to putting out as much as
75 pounds of corn per day in her backyard for deer to eat during the winter. I suppose that a little bit on the scale of spillage from a bird feeder wouldn't be the worst thing to do, but anyone who knows even a little bit about deer biology knows what a terrible idea this. Deer do not normally congregate in a large group around a single, concentrated food source. When they do, saliva-borne diseases such as chronic wasting disease (a prion disease similar to mad cow disease) are easily transmitted. What would have been one sick animal becomes an epidemic. This becomes a threat not only to deer but also potentially to other animals, domestic and wild.
She utterly fails to understand even the most basic concepts of ecology or adaption. I'm just going to grab the very first thing in the book which betrays her lack of knowledge, and I'm going to probe her statement with ruthless detail in order to demonstrate the level of sophmorism at work.
Dig this bit she wrote
on the second page in defense of encouraging high populations of pigeons, which are a non-native and invasive species that does not belong in North America:
Today, of course, they number in the billions, as did their close relatives, the now-extinct passenger pigeons, before we exterminated them. Do we begrudge passenger pigeons their former large numbers? Far from it. How sublime, we think, to see a migration of passenger pigeons filling the sky from horizon to horizon! If only they had not gone extinct!
We have no such admiration for the birds we once called rock doves. They're here in real life, not just in Audubon's drawings, so to us they are pests. We are offended by animals who are too plentiful, and we rename them pejoratively, usually for rats, who also are considered to be too plentiful. Hence pigeons are called flying rats.
An honorable lament for the passenger pigeon. But Ms. Thomas is apparently unaware of the natural history of North America prior to European arrival. The passenger pigeon probably only formed those massive flocks in the billions for a few centuries. Our idea of the pre-Columbian era is shaped by reports from early European explorers telling of a vast wilderness full of wildlife that teemed beyond anything imaginable. But what those explorers were really encountering was the wake of a massive series of plagues that killed off the great majority of native Americans. North America had been under intensive agricultural use for over a thousand years. The
American human population, prior to the voyage of Columbus, has been estimated by credible scientists to be as high as 112,000,000 people.
The Aztec empire alone, in what is now Mexico, had about 25,000,000 souls in 1492. By 1600 there were only about 1,000,000 in all of Mexico. The cause was mostly diseases introduced by white explorers, conquerors and settlers. Diseases that Europeans had developed relative immunity to during past plagues, but which native Americans had no natural resistance to.
These diseases swept across North America in multiple waves from various directions. They came both from the Spanish presence in the south and along the Atlantic coast following visits from mostly English, West Country fishermen, who were fishing the Grand Banks for years before colonization, but needed to stop on land to salt their fish in order to prevent the catch from rotting before they got home. When the pilgrims met the famous Squanto on their arrival in Massachusetts in 1620, he already spoke English. His own
tribe had already been wiped out by European diseases before the Pilgrims even landed. In fact, most of the native peoples of New England had already suffered the same fate.
The reports from early colonists and explorers of an unspoiled wilderness are probably akin to walking through a vacant lot city lot a year after a building had been torn down and declaring the crab grass, roaches and rats to be a paradise of nature. If you'd never seen crab grass or cockroaches before, I suppose that it would look pretty cool. That doesn't make it a stable ecosystem.
This was the state of affairs that soon unfolded all over the continent. With entire civilizations collapsing, huge areas of land reverted to a wild state. Only it wasn't even remotely the wild state that had existed before the Indians had arrived, on account of
most of the megafauna and the vast majority of the native predators having died out for unexplained reasons roughly 15,000 years earlier.
The passenger pigeon, in flocks of teeming billions, was a momentary phenomenon that would not have been sustained even if every human being, Europeans included, had vanished from the face of the Earth. Massive areas of habitat opened up with the deaths of so many humans and competition with humans for food briefly dropped to near zero. The population ballooned, creating a totally unstable situation. It is very much plausible that the birds quickly got lazy in their behavior as a species, depending on
predator satiation to allow their sloppy nesting habits to succeed. Then even more suddenly their numbers dropped too low for those sloppy habits of group colonies of nests close to the ground to continue to be viable.
You can be lazy about defending your young when there are 5,000,000 other nests in the area with eggs only a few feet from the ground. The odds of the local predators getting around to your chicks before they are fledged are pretty low. That doesn't work when you are in a nesting colony of only a few dozen birds.
So sorry, Mrs. Thomas. You are quite wrong -- we
should begrudge the passenger pigeon its flocks of billions of birds that blacked out the sky. Nothing can be that numerous in a sustainable way, and it only happened for the blink of an eye because of human diseases accidentally spread by Europeans. In such numbers, the passenger pigeon was every bit a product of environmental disruption as the rock dove, or common pigeon, is today. Not to say that either bird deserves to go extinct, but in both cases one finds a situation begging for a reduction in numbers.
Its fun to seize on one thing like this and shake it to death, but I think you could honestly do this with almost the entire book. Her science is utter crap and it is horrifying to think that people are going to buy this book and read it and then think that they have actually learned useful information about nature.
Ms. Thomas is also very rude to deer hunters, which would be fine if she had any idea what she was talking about. But clearly she does not [this, I quote from the NYT review, rather than directly quoted out of her book]:
She isn’t opposed to deer hunting, although she deplores the doltish spectacle it has become. She writes, caustically: “We fill the woods with invasive primates camouflaged to look like piles of leaves who sneak around, sprinkling estrus doe urine and manipulating gadgets that sound like antlers clashing.” She likens using these kinds of gizmos to “something like fishing with dynamite” and describes it as “not a measure of skill.”
Gadgets that sound like antlers clashing? Yes, those 'gadgets' are most typically a pair of antlers from a buck previously killed. If you don't have a pair of antlers, you might buy a pair of plastic ones from a store until you manage to get your own buck or find some sheds. Rattling a pair of old antlers together, or using urine from a doe that was killed while in estrus, or camouflaging ones self are all tactics that could have been and probably were used by neolithic hunters thousands of years ago.
I must wonder whether she finds the same tactics as 'doltish' when used by other predators. Like the Australian death adder, which wiggles the tip of its tail to attract prey in a tactic similar to rattling antlers. Or the bolas spider,
known for its ability to attract prey by producing pheromones that mimic mating signals used by moths. And those damned doltish Bengal tigers with their unfair stripes to camouflage them while hunting! Fishing with dynamite, those tigers are. Such buffoons. We could spend all day talking about the legions of predators that use precisely the hunting tactics which Thomas alleges are "not a measure of skill."
Ms. Thomas appears to suffer from the all-too-common malady of believing that hunting by any means other than biting the animal to death is both a form of cheating and an entirely modern development. I believe that I pretty thoroughly
eviscerated this idiocy in a previous blog entry last June which reviewed some of the common neolithic North American hunting techniques which have been proven by bones and artifacts at the sites of large kills. Our ancient ancestors killed dozens or even hundreds of animals at a time by driving them off of cliffs or into corrals where they were slaughtered by spears and arrows from behind a fence.
If she wants to talk about 'fishing with dynamite,' she should take it up with every every single primitive hunting culture in the world. Techniques of camouflage and subterfuge have always been used and will always be used by humans for ambush predation. Hunting is not a game. The point is not to earn touchdowns and shake hands on the field before heading off to the showers. The point is to obtain food from the wild. Humans do not have claws and our canines are no longer large enough to break a windpipe in a single crunch. We hunt mostly with our brains, not with our bodies. That is our nature.
I do not begrudge the author the sentimentalism of her approach to her subject. Only the stubborn ignorance.
People who know next to nothing about deer, or ecology, or hunting, would do best to abstain from publishing books on those topics. For their part, the New York Times should kindly have reviews of books on such topics be assigned to people with expertise in the field and an ability to judge the merit of the content.