Denmark has certainly gone out of its way to proudly assert how forward-thinking they are about animal welfare and the preservation of bio-diversity. Giving another lesson on the world stage of progressive decision-making and impressive methodology for teaching the younger generation how to view the world of biology, and specifically the treatment of animals.

At one time in the not-distant-enough past, it was considered to be both entertainment and instruction to inform townspeople when a public execution was being planned, to enable all and sundry to come out and share in the festivities of free entertainment of great fascination to the many who, like modern cinema-attendees, often brought along their own edible treats to enhance the experience.

Copenhagan Zoo in their enlightened version of the same mind-process, informed parents of impressionable children that this planned event to treat Marius, an eighteen-month-old healthy male giraffe to an early departure from life, and the grand opportunity to be fed to hungry lions as a family spectacle, would add to children's appreciation of the natural world, and give them a heads-up on animal anatomy.

A healthy young giraffe named Marius lies on the ground after being shot dead at Copenhagen zoo on February 9, 2014 despite an online petition to save it (Scanpix Denmark/AFP, Kasper Palsnov)

And so, there they were, children knee-deep in observation as the young giraffe was killed with a bolt gun, all taking place on a stage, the giraffe dismembered, and its parts fed to lions. The Copenhagen Zoo was performing its obligation to destroy an animal insufficiently diversified genetically from those others already in their care; widening of the gene pool to ensure genetic vigour the goal.

Never did it occur to any of those dedicated animal lovers that castrating Marius rather than killing him would produce the same gene-diversity-protective goal.

The executive director of Canada's Accredited Zoos and Aquariums stated such an event is not something seen in Canada. Zoos, stated Massimo Bergamini, must carefully weigh the (purported) educational value of presenting such ongoings as a public event ... against the potential to shock. Not quite denouncing the decision to dispatch Marius, but questioning the value of the proceedings as a public event.

The Copenhagen Zoo made its decision despite a public outcry resulting in tens of thousands of signatures on a petition begging it not to proceed, despite an offer from an individual to pay over a half million dollars to take protective custody of Marius, despite offers from other zoos, including one in Great Britain, to absorb the young giraffe into their own animal care programs.

Shame on Denmark!

We noticed, about a month ago, that a rabbit appeared to have taken up residence in our backyard. There was ample evidence with rabbit droppings in abundance, and an obvious nestling curve in the richness of the snowpack under the bare-branched shrubs at the very back of the garden in front of the back fence separating our property from our neighbours' behind us.

We also noted that there were fresh, neat little cuts on the burning bush directly over those nesting spots and the plenitude of droppings nearby. A few times we set out small carrots, hoping they would sustain the rabbit's appetite. We also saw, over the succeeding weeks, that the rabbit's appetite extended to the smaller of our two magnolia trees, and to another few bushes whose constituent nutrients were obviously appealing to its palate.

Decades ago, one of several dwarf apple trees we had planted when we had recently moved into what was then our 'new house', had been denuded of its bark, in a perfect circle just above the snow line. The tree survived for many years despite that damage impacting on its ability to send sap up into its top regions, to our great surprise. Then one late summer when it was heavy with beautiful ripening apples, it suddenly toppled in a great windy rainstorm, right at the place where the rabbits had nibbled it to a slow death.

I don't really mind what this rabbit is doing to the shrubs; they're mature, and I figure they could lose a few twigs and slight branches here and there. Besides, the rabbit needs to survive the dearth of food available to it in a cold, harsh winter.

Last night, just before we went up to bed, the downward side of midnight, we glanced out at the front porch. Hardly expecting to see any of the squirrels and the variety of birds that visit us so regularly. And we didn't see any of them, of course.

On the other hand, we did see the rabbit, perched comfortably on the wide ledge that tops the porch banister, amid all the seeds and nuts. Nibbling at this and that. But indicating his true preference when he hopped off the porch, landing on the snowpack directly under the larger of our two magnolias. We watched as he stretched his not-inconsiderable length to reach a small overhanging twig, and swiftly incised it from its mother branch, to sit busily afterward, munching it to the rabbit's obvious satisfaction.

Ours too, grateful for the little bit of wildlife theatre we're exposed to. Pity it was too dark for any pictures. We felt we couldn't risk snapping on the porch light, to surprise and frighten the little creature away.

This was a first and it felt most unpleasant. The young woman holding the clipboard, with a sweet smile on her face obviously felt it was part of her job. When I said to her, afterward, that this was the first time I had ever encountered such a query, she laughed offhandedly, and said "it happens all the time". I was tired, and wanted to get out of the store, and didn't bother asking her to clarify precisely what it is that happens all the time.

That she confronts patrons intimating that she suspects they have or are in the process of attempting to spirit away grocery shopping items for which they have not paid? That it is extremely common for people to somehow overlook placing their food purchase items on the cash conveyor belt to enable the cashier to ring them through, adding them to the food bill? Deliberately preferring to leave them out of sight and perhaps to be overlooked by the sharp eyes of the cashier?

This was a store that I usually did all my food shopping at. I've seen a succession of long-term more mature women working in the store at the cash registers. I knew them all, and they knew me. We would exchange cordially brief greetings. Lately, they appear to have been replaced -- whether through retirement or a deliberate shift in hiring policy practised by this supermarket outlet, part of a large chain specializing in the 'basics' of food lines, so basic that shoppers must pack their own groceries, bring or purchase their own bags or receptacles, and do all the heavy lifting involved -- by a far younger contingent, all of whom are capable, bright and friendly.

It's been over two decades since this particular store, close to where we live, has been my destination of choice for weekly grocery shopping. I use three large black plastic receptacles that I had originally purchased from the store in its earlier incarnation as a much smaller one than it presents at the present time, to pack groceries into and place them in the shopping cart to wheel out to the parking lot where my husband waits for me, along with our little dog.

Once they had gone through the cash register, I had placed a 20-pound bag of flour on the undercarriage shelf of the shopping cart, and next to it a ten-pound bag of potatoes. Having filled all of the black plastic receptacles and placed them in the shopping cart, paid the freight and accepted the cash register receipt from the cashier, I was just about to depart, when a very attractive young woman exuding confidence stopped me to ask whether the potatoes situated under the main carrying body of the shopping cart had passed through the cash register.

The question seemed so absurd I had to ask her to repeat it. My disbelief must surely have been evident on my face, but nothing seemed to faze her, she repeated the question, one which clearly enough to me intimated that I was engaged in an act of stealthily appropriating goods unpaid for by me. I blinked, handed her the cash receipt, said she might like to peruse it, as I'd already put my eyeglasses into my handbag. She handed it back, having ascertained it was there on the receipt, and with not another word, but a parting smile, made to go.

Which was when I commented this episode represented a first for me. A decidedly most unpleasant one. I have since written to the store management. And if there is the remotest possibility that this kind of accusatory enquiry is to be repeated, it will be the last time I venture to shop at the store.

Yesterday, just as we pulled into our driveway, arriving home after doing the weekly supermarket shopping, we noticed one of our neighbours who lives six houses up the street from us, driving down the street in his van. About fifteen to twenty minutes later, his university-age son was knocking at our door to inform my husband that his father, who had driven out to pick up his wife arriving home from work and waiting for him at a bus station, had been side-swiped by an OC Transpo bus. That's the public transportation agency operated by the municipality.

We don't have too high an opinion of those bus drivers. When we were working and making use of the transit system, we can both recall, my husband and myself, how some of those bus drivers steered and operated those buses; we used to call them transit "cowboys". And lately, it has been reported in the news that the cost to the taxpayer to settle claims against OC Transpo because of accidents, has been rising, and represents a sizeable expense.

In the case of our neighbour, he was transiting a roundabout, when a passenger-empty bus swiped him, knocking the mirror off his passenger side. And then it smashed into his fender. Our neighbour was more than a little shocked. All the more so as the bus driver made no attempt to stop, but kept driving furiously on, obviously anxious to put the bus into the sheds, his afternoon shift concluded.

Our neighbour did his best to draw the attention of the bus driver, but he appeared completely oblivious, didn't stop, just kept racing ahead. At which point so did our neighbour pick up speed, driving ahead to keep the bus and its driver in view, until he was finally able to draw the driver's attention and bring him to a stop. At first the driver evinced innocence of any knowledge that his bus had come into contact with another vehicle. Then he admitted that he'd hit the van. And he suggested to our neighbour that the best course of action would be to accompany him to the transit office nearby where he could complete a claim. He did so, and at the office wanted to contact the police. He had forgotten his cellphone at home, and neither the station manager nor the driver would agree to having him use their phones to call police.

He left the transit office, somewhat insecure and wondering what his next step should be. In the meanwhile, my husband drove out with our neighbour's son to pick up the mother still waiting at the transit parking lot. The son asked my husband's advice, which was to go to the nearby police detachment and make a report. That was finally done, and the policewoman who took the details said they would be calling in the bus driver, who had finally admitted he had known he hit someone, but was in a hurry, and obviously didn't relish the thought of a blemish recorded on his driving record.

The incident couldn't be characterized as a hit-and-run, my neighbours were informed by the police, since our neighbour had succeeded in flagging down the bus driver eventually and speaking with him. His options? Not much; to pay the insurance deductible, have the van repaired, and submit the bill to OC Transpo to attempt to recover those unexpected costs.

As for the aggravation involved; tough luck.

Small, furry wild animals have had a long tradition in Europe of being captured and trained as pets for wealthy people who saw symbolism in their affiliation.



We would scarcely now think of squirrels, particularly red squirrels, the smallest and most skittish of the squirrel family, being suitable as housepets. There are, in fact, laws in Canada against the capture and maintenance of wild animals. It seems cruel to consign an animal, in any event, whose natural condition is to be at one with its environment, to being housebound, giving it physical parameters wholly at variance with what nature intended for it.

There are some who think of those ubiquitous curious, and often destructively raiding squirrels as bothersome rodent pests. And there are others, like me and my husband, who appreciate their presence and admire their indomitable resistance against succumbing to adverse conditions, learning to accommodate themselves to being urbanized, yet free. Their survival instinct is equal to that of any other of nature's creatures.

Unlike dogs and cats, whose human-animal connection has been cultivated over thousands of years, based on mutual usefulness which has long outlived its practical value, the emotional affection and mutual emotional dependency remains intact.

We love to feed the squirrels peanuts on our daily ravine walks, my husband and I, noting their actions and anticipation and their amazing antics in their natural environment. Although we were loathe to feed them closer to home because of the prevalence of predatory neighbourhood cats, we succumbed to the need to put out food for birds in this very cold and snowy winter, and the squirrels, seeing an advantage, have taken to visiting us as well.

It was interesting to note a small news item in today's paper that in Russia a kind of renaissance has taken place with squirrels becoming increasingly popular as personal pets, to the point that Moscow parks are becoming depleted of their squirrels by the actions of poachers whose websites offer these ill-gotten prospective pets for sale at 5,000 rubles ($159.50).

1765, "Boy With a Squirrel"

Last winter nature was kind enough to leave us with a less-than-normal-for-Ottawa snowpack. We did have what appeared to be the usual number of snow events, but they were unspectacular. Light enough so that it could easily be shovelled by hand, not requiring the use of the snowthrower, so it was mostly left to languish, unused, in the garden shed. This year, there's been a return to what is always called a 'normal' Ottawa winter, when we become buried under a sizeable snowpack.

Ottawa Sun

With winter storms that dump considerably more than 20 cm. of snow at a time. So this year, it quickly became established -- beginning in November, actually -- that Environment Canada's late autumn heads-up warning that we were in store for more snow, deeper cold than usual, soon morphed into reality. And the snowthrower, used far more frequently this year, has been parked inside the garage, in between and in back of the two vehicles that my husband drives, ready for use.

The municipality has found itself in a bit of a quandary, actually, with the realization that the annual snow budget has vastly surpassed itself, leaving the city with a $21.5-million deficit for snow removal activities. There was a three-day storm that blew in as the 2013 year was wrapping up, preparing to usher 2014 in, in royal style that cost $11.7 to clean up.

That single event had dumped over 41 cm. of snow, 18 mm of freezing rain and topped it all off with about 5mm of rain. Municipal workers were kept busy clearing the bus Transitway, arterial roads, collector roads and city sidewalks. They eventually made their way to residential streets. Somehow it always seems to the residents of the street we live on, that we somehow have offended the powers that be, to the point where they leave our street to the very last.

A sentiment no doubt lingering in the minds of quite a large number of other city residents living on other residential streets who resent having to slosh through the impassable morass of swampy dark snowpiles, trying to balance inside the ridges left by passing cars, themselves swerving and slipping down the unholy mess.

Complaints? None, why would there be any? This is winter, after all, in the second snowiest, coldest capital in the world. We have no wish whatever to urge Ulan Bator, Mongolia, to move over and leave the record of first-place to us.

Truth is, we've had far snowier winters than this one, although the cold temperatures could moderate with a sense of decency; their lingering effects haven't endeared this winter to people anxious to get out and make the most of winter recreation.

There's ample food for thought. The World Health Organization has issued an alarm over international cancer growth rates. Past time to take notice of a dread disease, with an onset largely related to avoidable lifestyle choices.

We're far too sedentary, and we're overweight, and we select energy-dense, but nutrition-deficient foods. This has largely been an accusation levelled at those living within first-world economies. But it is now being expanded to include people living in developing countries, where poor choices that are attractive to human nature become more prevalent.

Middle-age, sedentary and overweight is an acknowledged and well-publicized recipe for diabetes onset as well. And diabetes onset leads invariably to other, aligned health-malign problems like increased opportunities for heart-health and stroke impactions. Blindness, neuropathy, limb amputation all follow the life of a diabetic person struggling to keep blood sugar in check.

And increasingly there appears to be a link between sugar consumption and cancer, as well.  Dr. Gerald Krystal, professor of pathology and laboratory medicine at University of British Columbia has been studying that link. Cancer, it would appear, feeds on glucose-laden cells at a rate three times that of other cells. That rapid ingestion of glucose is what leads to lactic acid secretion, increasing in turn cellular pH, encouraging metastasis.

The body's circulating glucose in abundance comes from what is recognized as the standard Western diet. Dr. Krystal has set out through his research to determine whether it is possible to affect the growth of tumours, and even forestall tumour initiation by affecting blood glucose levels. It never occurred to me years ago when I read about diabetes that there is a lower incidence of cancer among people with diabetes than for that of the general, non-diabetic population. Control of blood sugar levels through the diabetes diet protocol at work.

The foods that people who love convenience and tongue-and-palate-tickling tastes of fat, salt and sugar happen to create an environment for cancer that is most hospitable. Calorie-rich, nutrient-compromised, we become what is called in scientific circles, immuno-incompetent. The quality and quantity of our food uptake is killing us.

Dr. Krystal's team of researchers are exploring diet-related tumour growth and initiation. In clinical trials with mice almost half fed the standard western diet developed mammary cancers by mid-age, while none of the mice on the low-carbohydrate, high-protein did.

One of the test mice lived a normal life span on the western diet; the rest died at an early age of deaths associated with cancer. And over 50% of the mice on the low-carbohydrate diet reached or lived beyond a normal life span - for a mouse.

Humans are not mice, but the results of research such as that cited above do tell us something we should be listening carefully to.