Well! Sad but inevitable use of animals as symbols. The squirrel of course is cute and wonderful, and was at one time well-adapted and in balance with its native habitat. But c’mon – I’ve been keeping quiet and recording “just the facts” about the critters – and it wasn’t hard to find this unsurprising (lock)step:
from the blog, Nationalism in Our Times of Need
The author of this blog, code name Red Squirrel, writes,
I am proud to be a member of The British National Party. This photograph replaces the image of the Red Squirrel I used to conceal my identity from the disgusting hammer wielding fascist scum, that threaten to burn people alive! But I hide NO More!These people are reprobates, paid by the government and the Islamists to intimidate, silence or even kill freedom loving people who dare to raise their voices in protest. Please wake up Britain and vote For the only party able to halt this madness! We are descending into the horror of a repressive and totalitarian regime. I love my Nation. Do You? Our Civilisation once gone would be irreplaceable!
and this is quite a surprising profile photo (nice rainbow; is this mythic Britain?):
22,586 Grey Squirrels trapped since January 2007
(statistic from the RSSP)
+ + + +
This is a screen shot of the Northern Red Squirrels home page – a volunteer protection group:
http://www.northernredsquirrels.org.uk./
A link from their web site led me to an article in the Telegraph from April 2009, in which the Prince of Wales is quoted as follows:
The Prince will speak of his sadness at the decline of the “most utterly charming and irresistible of British native mammals” – the red squirrel – because of the spread of greys from North America.. He added: “I am incredibly fortunate to see red squirrels whenever I am in Scotland and I cannot bear the thought that one day they might disappear forever, driven out by the relentless march of the greys.” …”Our red squirrels are facing a battle for survival. It seems almost incomprehensible to me that we have allowed this situation to happen. The far bigger grey squirrels, which were only introduced into this country one hundred and thirty years ago are outcompeting the reds in every way, let alone infecting them with the appalling squirrel pox, to which they are immune, but to which the reds are particularly prone and die a lingering and agonising death.”
Sorry. I can’t stop myself. Here’s the best picture yet of a red squirrel. If ever there was a reason to protect the Reds, it’s their supersonic selfdom. Though this one looks wily enough to defeat the Pox.
In the manifold and often ugly ways people interrelate with animals, Bewick’s wood engravings portray the specifics of rural northern England at a time when conditions, politics and views toward the land and nature were changing (urbanization, privatization of land, and the disappearance of the commons). Bewick escapes nostalgia, although many of his tiny, delicate engravings are pastoral and sweet.
But at times Bewick makes an overt (and dear) statement of injustice. I found this image and decription on the Bewick Society web site :
Thomas Bewick, "Waiting for Death," 1828
This single sheet print (8 3/4 x 11 1/2 inches) was the last piece Bewick worked on before he died. It was part of his experimentation in larger sized prints and it was not finished when Bewick died. It was published by his son Robert Elliott Bewick in 1832. The subject matter was identical to a much earlier vignette-sized print based on one of his earliest known drawings
[From the descriptive text written by Bewick to accompany the print Waiting for Death. The full text is in Robert Robinson, Thomas Bewick: His Life and Times, p. 163-4.]
In the morning of his days he was handsome – sleek as a raven, sprightly and spirited, and was then much caressed and happy. […] It was once his hard lot to fall into the hands of Skinflint, a horse-keeper – an authorised wholesale and retail dealer in cruelty – who employed him alternately, but closely, as a hack, both in the chaise and for the saddle; for when the traces and trappings used in the former had peeled the skin from off his breast, shoulders, and sides, he was then, as his back was whole, thought fit for the latter […] He was always, late and early, made ready for action – he was never allowed to rest.[…] It is amazing to think upon the vicissitudes of his life. […] But his days and nights of misery are now drawing to an end; so that, after having faithfully dedicated the whole of his powers and his time to the service of unfeeling man, he is at last turned out, unsheltered and unprotected, to starve of hunger and of cold.
His tail-pieces – small vignettes made to fill space at the bottom of pages – form an anecdotal field guide to Northumberland life. His wry and tender view, and his sensitivity to relations – of species, of class, of the built and natural world – are fully apparent throughout his engravings. These are not great reproductions – the ones in Jenny Uglow’s biography, “Nature’s Engraver” are fantastic, and merit reading with a magnifying glass at the ready.
Iconically coloured, friends to farmers and gardeners alike, and named
after The Virgin Mary, Ladybirds are undoubtedly the most popular of all
the beetles…
Written by three hugely experienced ‘ladybirders’, the book provides
instructions of how, when and where to find different species of ladybird,
how to identify the adults, and facilitates involvement in current research
projects on ladybirds. Excitingly, the book sets out ways in which readers
can contribute to national surveys of ladybirds, initiated as a result of the
recent arrival of the invasive alien harlequin ladybird in 2004.
Ponies began to be used underground, often replacing child or female labour, as distances from pithead to coal face became greater. The first known recorded use in Britain was in the Durham coalfield in 1750. In later years, mechanical haulage was introduced on the main underground roads replacing the longer pony hauls (“driving”) and ponies tended to be confined to the shorter runs from coal face to main road (known in North East England as “putting”) which were more difficult to mechanise. As of 1984, 55 ponies were still at use with the National Coal Board in Britain, chiefly at the modern pit in Ellington, Northumberland. At the peak in 1913, there were 70,000 ponies underground in Britain.
Pit Pony stable underground.
From several of my superficial trawls, it is said that the ponies were well-looked after (better than the men), as they were a more difficult to replace capital commodity. In some cases, the stables even had electric lights, and they were given treats from the miner’s lunches, to coerce them to work harder. But in many cases, the ponies would remain underground for as long as a year.
The last surviving pit pony, Pip, died in February 2009 at the age of 35.
Pip, the retired pit pony
He worked at Blackburn Drift, Marley Hill Colliery, near Sunniside, Gateshead, and then at Sacriston Colliery, near Durham, and retired in 1985 when the mine closed. he spent his last 23 years at Beamish (open air museum). I bet he felt pretty happy and surprised about that turn of event. Telegraph, February 2009
