Pangur Bán: An indoor cat made immortal by writer's block

This Old Irish poem was found at the bottom of a manuscript in the Benedictine Abbey of Reichenau, situated on an island in the lake bordering Austria and Germany. It seems to have been written by an Irish monk--possibly Sedulius Scotus--sometime in the ninth century. 

Messe ocus Pangur Bán, cechtar nathar fria ṡaindan
bíth a menmasam fri seilgg, mu menma céin im ṡaincheirdd.

Caraimse fos, ferr cach clú, oc mu lebran leir ingnu
ni foirmtech frimm Pangur Bán – caraid cesin a maccdán.

O rubiam (scél cen scís) innar tegdais ar n-oendís
taithiunn (dichrichide clius) ni fristarddam ar n-áthius.

Gnáth huaraib ar gressaib gal glenaid luch inna línsam
os mé dufuit im lín chéin dliged ndoraid cu ndronchéill.

Fuachaidsem fri frega fál a rosc a nglése comlán
fuachimm chein fri fegi fis mu rosc reil cesu imdis.

Faelidsem cu ndene dul hi nglen luch inna gerchrub
hi tucu cheist ndoraid ndil os me chene am faelid.

Cia beimmi amin nach ré, ni derban cách a chele
maith la cechtar nár a dán, subaigthius a óenurán.

He fesin as choimsid dáu in muid dungní cach oenláu
du thabairt doraid du glé for mu mud cein am messe.

There are several different translations of this poem. I give them in order of quality, the most literal first:

I and Pangur Bán, each of us two at his special art:
his mind at hunting (mice), my own mind is in my special craft.

I love to rest—better than any fame—at my booklet with diligent science:
not envious of me is Pangur Bán: he himself loves his childish art.

When we are—tale without tedium—in our house, we two alone,
we have—unlimited (is) feat-sport—something to which to apply our acuteness.

It is customary at times by feat of valour, that a mouse sticks in his net,
and for me there falls into my net a difficult dictum with hard meaning.

His eye, this glancing full one, he points against the wall-fence:
I myself against the keenness of science point my clear eye, though it is very feeble.

He is joyous with speedy going where a mouse sticks in his sharp-claw:
I too am joyous, where I understand a difficult dear question.

Though we are thus always, neither hinders the other:
each of us two likes his art, amuses himself alone.

He himself is the master of the work which he does every day:
while I am at my own work, (which is) to bring difficulty to clearness.
- by Whitley Stokes & John Strachan

Now for one that actually sounds like a poem:

Myself and Pangur, cat and sage
Go each about our business;
I harass my beloved page,
He his mouse.
Fame comes second to the peace
Of study, a still day
Unenvying, Pangur's choice
Is child's play.
Neither bored, both hone
At home a separate skill.
Moving after hours alone to the kill.
When at last his net wraps
After a sly fight
Around a mouse; mine traps
Sudden insight.
On my cell wall here,
His sight fixes, burning,
Searching; my old eyes peer
At new learning,
And his delight when his claws
Close on his prey
Equals mine when sudden clues
Light my way.
So we find by degrees
Peace in solitude,
Both of us, solitaries,
Have each the trade He loves:
Pangur, never idle
Day or night Hunts mice;
I hunt each riddle
From dark to light.
- by Eavan Boland

And one that scans like one:

Each of us pursues his trade,
I and Pangur my comrade,
His whole fancy on the hunt,
And mine for learning ardent.
More than fame I love to be
Among my books and study,
Pangur does not grudge me it,
Content with his own merit.
When ­ a heavenly time! ­ we are
In our small room together
Each of us has his own sport
And asks no greater comfort.
While he sets his round sharp eye
On the wall of my study
I turn mine, though lost its edge,
On the great wall of knowledge.
Now a mouse drops in his net
After some mighty onset
While into my bag I cram
Some difficult darksome problem.
When a mouse comes to the kill
Pangur exults, a marvel!
I have when some secret's won
My hour of exultation.
Though we work for days and years
Neither the other hinders;
Each is competent and hence
Enjoys his skill in silence.
Master of the death of mice,
He keeps in daily practice,
I too, making dark things clear,
Am of my trade a master.
- by Frank O'Connor

But this is the best one:  

I and Pangur Bán, my cat
'Tis a like task we are at;
Hunting mice is his delight
Hunting words I sit all night.
Better far than praise of men
'Tis to sit with book and pen;
Pangur bears me no ill will,
He too plies his simple skill.
'Tis a merry thing to see
At our tasks how glad are we,
When at home we sit and find
Entertainment to our mind.
Oftentimes a mouse will stray
In the hero Pangur's way:
Oftentimes my keen thought set
Takes a meaning in its net.
'Gainst the wall he sets his eye
Full and fierce and sharp and sly;
'Gainst the wall of knowledge I
All my little wisdom try.
When a mouse darts from its den,
O how glad is Pangur then!
O what gladness do I prove
When I solve the doubts I love!
So in peace our tasks we ply,
Pangur Bán, my cat, and I;
In our arts we find our bliss,
I have mine and he has his.
Practice every day has made
Pangur perfect in his trade;
I get wisdom day and night
Turning darkness into light.
- by Robin Flower

The wolf-child phenomenon: a modern view

Anyone familiar with Mowgli of Kipling's Jungle Book has heard of such a thing as a wolf-child. The idea of a child being raised by wolves runs deep in human experience, dating back to the founding of Rome. But on more of an historical note, I recently came across this tidbit in a 1930 book by E. Stanley Jones, an incarnational missionary to British India:

A wolf-child, captured near where I live in India, had lived with wolves from the age of two to the age of eleven. It ran on all fours. Its knee joints were stiff and enlarged from running in this fashion. It would eat only raw meat, and when it was put on a more civilized diet, it took dysentery and died.

Now, Jones never said that he himself witnessed any of this, so we are forced to first examine this story for apparent veracity. Let's begin by listing the alleged facts:

1) Nine years previous to a given date, a two-year-old child had disappeared from society.
2) Shortly before the given date, a being was captured in the wild who met the description of a wolf-child.
3) This creature was identified as being the lost child, now age eleven.
4) The child was then brought back into society, whereupon it died of dysentery.

Now, notice the inferences made from these facts:
1) The child had lived among wolves for nine years.
2) The child had eaten nothing but raw meat for nine years.
3) The child could only walk on all fours, due to its being raised by wolves.
4) The child could only tolerate a diet of raw meat, due to being raised by wolves.

Well, these may or may not be true. All humans start out without the ability to walk upright, and some never attain it; others lose it quite early. Without studying a wolf-child in its natural habitat--something that has never been done by a scientist--it's impossible to say for sure which of these were true. In researching the subject of wolf-children, I found that one universal characteristic is that they lack human language--so Mowgli heads back to the fairy tales where he belongs. It's also rather common in a wolf-child narrative that the child spends somewhere between eight and fifteen years in the wild before making contact with society.

One glaring problem with the veracity of the wolf-child phenomenon is that it has never been studied scientifically. The closest anyone has come is in the case of a Los Angeles girl known as "Genie," who was kept locked in a bedroom by her father until she was 13 years of age. Although she learned some speech after being brought out into society, she has never progressed beyond a most rudimentary level of communication. And she was so traumatized by scientists squabbling over the exclusive rights to study her that she regressed as an adult to the autistic state in which they had found her.

Many 'wolf child' stories can be attributed to an autistic child who is abandoned in the wild but manages to survive until later discovery. His autism makes any transition back to civilised life all but impossible, and he often dies from the sudden change in diet. One should therefore not approach a 'wolf-child' account as showing what happens to someone who is raised in the wild; rather, it shows how animalistic autistic children are by nature, making it all the easier for them to live among animals than among humans.

The idea of a child being raised by wolves runs deep in the human psyche. But when examined in the light of science, it turns out to mostly just be a good story.

Dolphins are fish

I have before me two cans of Bumble Bee brand Dolphin Safe Premium Chunk Light Tuna. Each bears a logo reading, "FISH TALES: See Inside of Label."

What does the word 'fish' mean, according to Bumble Bee? Well, a couple of things, depending on which label you read.

According to label #1, a fish is a swimming creature that can communicate by means of coded electrical signals--a rather unscientific statement that errs in a couple of ways, even if the fish in question are elephant snouts.

According to label #2, a fish is a swimming creature with a bone structure in its appendages similar to that of humans. Interesting, if not particularly scientific, because the fish in question are dolphins.

It seems that all manner of pseudoscience is permitted in popular literature, so long as the theory of allele creation by natural selection on random gene mutations is upheld.

Children: Cheaper than Chimps

It's not easy to direct a Primate Testing Laboratory these days. Never mind that it's almost impossible to come up with a new anti-viral vaccine (swine flu, anyone?) without primate testing, and that it wasn't until chimps were deliberately infected with it that the Hepatitis C virus could be isolated (before that the disease it caused was just referred to as "non-A, non-B Hepatitis"). And never mind that chimps are far more fecund in well-managed captivity then they are in the wild. There are entire organizations devoted to the promotion of "human rights" for chimpanzees, and they will not rest until every living chimp is released (never say that ideas don't have consequences). And as a result--without even having to join a union--laboratory chimps enjoy incredibly cushy employment benefits. Granted, without valid Social Security numbers, the chimps can't be paid in cash or equivalents--but their employment benefit packages are pretty impressive. Working mother chimps, for example, are now paid to breastfeed their babies for the first six months to a year (wow, what a maternity leave policy). From there, the chimps go to work as guinea pigs, getting injected with diseases that won't hurt them (they don't even get AIDS from the HI virus) so that they can be carefully studied in order to produce treatments for humans.

After 3 or 4 years in the lab, a chimp's life work is done. But alas, chimps live for at least 10 times that long. Time for early retirement! A laboratory chimp now moves to a tropical resort where it can live out its years being provided with free food and water. Well, first of all, a stop by the operating theatre where its ability to procreate is removed; we don't want any population explosions at those resorts now, do we? And this despite the fact that chimps are a Threatened Species in the wild.

Total cost over the lifetime of a laboratory chimp? Half a million dollars, or about $125,000 per year of services rendered. Those chimps are making more than their keepers! And if a chimp manages to escape wars, rebellions, and ecoterrorists, it may well live 50 years, at an average cost of $10,000 per year per chimp.

As someone very well acquainted with childraising, I can attest that children can be easily raised and educated from infancy through adulthood for a little over $2000 per year each. They get a bit more expensive after that, but--unlike chimps--by then they are earning their own way.

So, bring them on--children are way cheaper than chimps! Unless you send your children to public school in New Jersey--that alone adds $20,000 a head that somebody is having to pay for, year after year.

"Sea Kitten" Fetuses: A new name for caviar

PETA, which I think stands for Practitioners of the Esteemed Tradition of Animism, has launched a campaign against the killing (none dare call it murder) of what they call "sea kittens," commonly known to all users of the English language as "fish." The idea is that people won't kill--or at least won't eat--anything called "kittens." Never mind that PETA kills over 90% of the animals it "rescues," including kittens; they recommend that their constituents send the following letter to the head of the Fish and Wildlife Service of the USA.

The Fish and Wildlife Service's promotion of fishing is a glaring contradiction of its mission. Neurobiologists tell us that fish have nervous systems that comprehend and respond to pain, and that, when it comes to the ability to feel pain, fish are just like dogs, cats, and all other animals. Dr. Donald Broom, a scientific advisor to the British government, explains, "The scientific literature is quite clear. Anatomically, physiologically and biologically, the pain system in fish is virtually the same as in birds and mammals." Scientists have created a detailed map of pain receptors in fish's mouths and all over their bodies.

In light of these facts, I urge you to do the right thing by adhering to the FWS' stated mission to protect fish. Stop your department's promotion of fishing! I urge you to instead advocate nonviolent pastimes, such as bird-watching, canoeing, or hiking.

A sidebar on the PETA website informs us that the proper term for caviar is "Baby Sea Kittens."

Somebody needs to tell the folks at PETA that the Supreme Court does not take an interest in protecting fish from their killers until at least the 24th week of gestation. Prior to that, Sea Kitten Fetuses are fair game. And no one gives a rip if they feel pain at any time prior to actual hatching.

Obituary for the English Language

Modern English passed away recently, following a steady decline in health that took a sudden turn for the worse a few years ago. The chief cause of death appears to be Political Correctness. "Murder" has been officially ruled out as a suspect.

Modern English was preceded in death by its parents and grandparents: Classical English, Middle English, and Old English, as well as numerous siblings and one cousin. Its sole surviving descendant is Post-Modern English.

Burial will be scheduled at a later date, as it always takes a while to put a language to rest after its decease.

******* ******* *******

Hi folks, I'm back. I had to take a few days off due to internet connectivity problems, probably somehow associated with Great Iowa Flood.

What provoked this article was a full-length news feature this morning on "the murder of a mountain gorilla." Now, this immediately brought to mind the Anthropoid Apes of Tarzan fiction, who could communicate with each other and even other species by spoken words in a language all of their own. Yet when Tublat killed Tarzan's father, threatened his mate Kala, and was eventually killed by Tarzan himself, the word "murder" never came into play. The shooting of mountain gorillas Senkwekwe Rugendo and his three wives was apparently the first documented case of inter-species murder.

So what is "murder," this newly coined member of the Post-Modern English vocabulary?

Basically, it is direct involvement in any class of death of which the speaker or writer does not approve, but the perpetrator does.

Therefore anti-abortionists can speak of a surgeon "murdering an unborn child" when he cuts her up in her mother's womb; anti-darwinists of parents "murdering their child" when they allow natural selection to take its course in the life of their diabetic daughter; anti-islamists of a father "murdering his daughter" when he slits her throat to deflect the shame she has brought upon her family; anti-suicidists of Jack Kevorkian "murdering his patients" when he holds a lethal gas mask over their mouths; and anti-homophobes of the likes of Jeffrey Dahmer "murdering their lovers" when they butcher and eat their sexual partners.

And the prescribed penalty for murder? Well, back in the days of Classical English at least, and even into the days of Modern English, Murder was, by definition, a capital crime. That no longer being the case, one can now face the incongruity of a stiffer penalty for "murdering" an unhatched bald eagle than for "murdering" an unborn child; for "murdering" a mountain gorilla than for "murdering" an immodest daughter. There is no longer a legal connection between the past participle "executed" and the prepositional phrase "for murder." It is no longer so important that murderers be removed from the gene pool, as that they show public contrition for their politically incorrect deeds.

I have three questions for the creators of post-modern English.

1) When machete-wielding vigilantes hack apart captured thieves and leave their bodies to rot along the path as an example to others, to whom would this action be describable as "murder," and who would be the appropriate body to carry out the penalty thereof?

2) How long after suicide is allowed among other species before the legalization of inter-species assisted suicide?

2) How many mountain gorillas does one have to kill, out of a total population of less than 500, to become a "mass murderer?"


***

I'm back again in February 2009, to report a curious fact: for the 15 months following the 'execution' of the 5 gorillas from the Rugendo family, the Burunga National Park where they had lived was a combat zone; no park rangers were able to do their jobs. Ironically, when the rangers returned, they found that the Rugendo family had actually grown in their absence. Coming out of a 15-month war, the Burunga National Park now boasts more mountain gorillas than it had before. So was it murder--or population control?