Octopus on Ice

You wanna know how to win a hockey game? Throw an octopus onto the ice. Or a catfish. Or a leopard shark. They have to be dead, too. And in some cases, already cooked. 

Not that I'm advocating winning hockey games this way. I'm just telling you what some people actually do.

And there's all kinds of rules about how you do it. It started in Detroit with the Redwings. Allegedly, Pete and Jerry Cusimano, who owned the Detroit's Eastern Market, threw the first octopus on the ice in 1952. Cusimano sounds like an Italian name (I know, I have one, too), and octopi figure in Italian cuisine. Greek cuisine, too. So maybe that inaugural octopus came right out of their refrigerator at the store.

There is some logic to it. The Redwings were in the playoffs, and they had to win 8 games to win the Stanley Cup. An octopus has 8 legs. So, 8...8...you see where I'm going?

The other animals are hockey fan copycats (no, not real cats). The catfish is thrown on the ice in an attempt to make the Nashville Predators lucky. And the leopard shark might show up at a San Jose Shark's game.

I know. It's sports. People go crazy for their teams. Superstitions are what really win games anyway...right? I've been known to throw a cupcake at the TV screen when the NY Jets are playing. (That's another story.)

But placed within the history of animal sacrifice, does the octopi of the Detroit Redwings really measure up? Is winning a hockey game equal to the prayer for plentiful crops, or a ban on tornadoes, or the end of a drought? Depends on your priorities.

What we haven't seen a lot of -- unless it goes under a different name and guise that only animals know about -- is people sacrificed for animal needs like for protection or grace from the gods. I don't mean animal attacks for yummy human food or self-defense, I mean a ritual with no intention of wanting something to eat. Like the octopi on the ice hockey rink.

Octopi (they say) have individual personalities. One might be reclusive, another friendly, another destructive. They live by themselves in crevices or under rocks, which they call home for a few weeks until they choose another crevice or rock. At night they roam around finding seafood to eat. They might walk on the seafloor with their super-sensitive legs, or dart through the water at 25 mph. And they're smart, too. Check the video under links on this page for an octopus getting through a tiny hole. 

They only live about 3-5 years. And they die soon after they mate. The male first. Then once the eggs are off and out into the sea, the female. So they lead a very focused existence. Hide from Predators. Get food. Mate. Die. No time for --what the octopi might consider silly -- games. No three-clamshell-monty. Or sea pebble badminton. 

We humans probably don't have to worry about reciprocal sacrifice. I guess that's lucky. For us.

A Brace of American Birds

Joel Achenbach of the Washington Post said in his January 16th "Auchenblog" that today's menu at the Inaugural Luncheon was a "brace of American birds." Notably pheasant and duck. 

You know, I never ate pheasant, but duck, yes, and duck is quite tasty (I know: poor Rosanna). 

Should the birds feel honored to be served at such a momentous occasion?

Well, let's look at this another way. When (and if) a Duck ever gets elected to the presidency here's what's likely to be on the menu (not a brace of American people):

a melange of seeds, shoots, and grass

aquatic vegetation three ways.

acorns with grain garnish

insect crudo

aquatic invertebrates misto

If this happened to be a female presidential duck and she was pregnant then she'd eat twice as much as any senator in the room. Including the First Man Duck.

As for pheasants. Somehow it's hard to picture a pheasant as president. 

BASH

That's what they call it. Bird Aircraft Strike Hazard. Or Bird Strike (without picket signs).  It's when an airborne animal hits an airborne man-made thing. Birds-Planes.

But what do they do to avoid this unwelcome meeting? Wikipedia says it so nicely: "The are three approaches to reduce the effect of bird strikes. The vehicle can be designed to be more bird resistant, the birds can be moved out of the way of the vehicle, or the vehicle can be moved out of the way of the birds." Now why didn't I think of that!

1. Engines will shut down if hit with a 4 pound bird.

2. Cockpit windows are strong enough to withstand a 4 pound bird.

3. BUT multiple birds (read: flock) can disable the engines (read: US Airways Flight 1549 yesterday)

Now to getting the birds out of the way of the vehicle: pull up trees and marshland, grasslands of attractive bird habitats near airports, install dogs to patrol airport borders for migrant bird intrusions (just keep the dogs away from the planes), use big sounds and explosions to scare them away (scarecrows don't work, you can thank the Wizard for that).

How about getting that vehicle out of the way? Well, they discourage taking off when a flock of birds are hanging around. And it sounds like they're extra careful during migratory season in planning flight routes. That's when EVERYONE needs the skies at the same time. Who would've thunk that the sky-- the GREAT BIG MOST-OF-THE-TIME BLUE sky would run out of room? I'll bet when you were a kid and asked, "Daddy, why is the sky blue?" (Has any kid ever really asked that question?) You would have been floored if he said: "You know, one day, that sky will be so crowded you won't even know what color it is." (Was that the answer?) (If you want to know why the sky is blue see link over to the left there under: Links)

Same goes for the big black sky in outer space. We've got so many radio waves and satellite paths and blabbing people and clicking fax machines and movies and football games flying around the magnetic field of air waves that even the radio telescopes on the lookout for attacking asteroids can't see a thing because of all our fooling-around static. I mean what's more important: Telephone gossip or finding new planets? (Hmmm...that's a toss-up.)

I wonder how many outer space animals we're intruding upon with all that blather?

Anyway, as for the plane-bird combination, it seems like the airplane business is on top of it as they can be. (Especially the pilot of US Airways Flight 1549) I hope they feel the same way at the next waterfowl town meeting.

where birds and airplanes meet

Right on the edge of humanity and zoo-manity a plane and a flock of birds tangoed and the only casualty (casualties) was/were the birds. The pilot got the plane to land on the Hudson River and all the passengers got out safely and were picked up by NYC/NJ ferries. 

The birds are in the engine somewhere, roasted not for dinner. This was LaGuardia Airport near the East River, Flushing Bay, and not far from Long Island Sound. Right near JFK Airport is the Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge. I once did a boat trip to see the feathered creatures who live there. New York City Audubon Society sponsored the trip. You pass a lot of industrial stuff along the way but eventually get to see Great Blue Herons and Great White Herons and Cormorants and Night Herons and Osprey and Oystercatchers and more more more.

You can't help but wonder, while cruising past their quaint grassy marshlands, what in the world they're thinking about us in the boat, about the rest of the huge heavyweight water traffic and about those giant birds of metal soaring above with a call that resembles a thunderstorm.

Like the Jets and the Sharks....two opposing teams on either side of the street looking at each other wondering who's going to start the rumble first.

But no one wants to start a rumble.

The airport tries to stay clear of birds. And the birds try to stay clear of airport.

More on this next time. Just what kind of staying clear is going on?