Toronto, November 12, 2023
Animal update
First, more news about Fiona the sheep.
In last week’s Endgame I asked “What is it like to be a sheep?” I told of Fiona, the ewe marooned for two years at the foot of a Scottish cliff and described by the media as “the loneliest sheep in Britain.” Fiona was finally rescued by five local farmers. A happy ending. That’s that.
That was not that. The Guardian newspaper reports that a few days after Fiona’s rescue, animal rights activists protested outside the farm where Fiona had been taken. They said she would be exploited for money and become a spectacle. They held placards that said “Free Fiona.” They rejected the name “Fiona” and renamed the animal “Sheepy.”
Farm staff said they felt intimidated. The police were called. Fiona/Sheepy was moved to a secret location. A BBC headline shouted “Britain's loneliest sheep in hiding after rehoming row.” The New York Times picked up the story. It reported that “Fiona, a now-famous and once-lonely British sheep, is at the center of a social media frenzy...” The Times commented, “Through the whole ordeal, Fiona has seemed unbothered...”
It’s no surprise that Fiona was “unbothered.” Last week I wrote, “Only a sheep knows what it’s like to be a sheep.” Lonely, famous—what’s all that to Fiona? It’s fantasy to impute human understanding and feelings to an animal. The concepts of “lonely” and “famous” mean nothing to a sheep. Fauna happily ignore the human circus.
Which brings me, once more, to Misty the cat. Readers will recall that Misty, a female long-haired calico indoor cat, belonged to my mother. We inherited her when my mother died almost ten years ago. I find Misty inscrutable. What does she think or feel about anything? Impossible to tell. Only Misty knows what Misty feels.
Not so, according to research by Brittany Florkiewicz and Lauren Scott that has just come to my notice. For nearly a year these two intrepid inquirers videotaped and reviewed felines’ facial expressions at the CatCafe Lounge in Los Angeles. According to The Washington Post, Florkiewicz and Scott found that cats displayed at least 276 different facial expressions. They studied how the cats moved their ears, wrinkled their noses, parted their lips and licked their faces. Apparently, if I pay close attention to Misty, watch her facial expressions, how she moves her ears, etc., I could figure out how she feels. Mind you, our quiet house is a lot less emotionally stimulating, I am sure, than the CatCafe Lounge of Los Angeles.
Finally, there’s a wild pig running around Manitoba. The CBC reports that “a local organization dedicated to controlling wild pigs has put out a wanted poster for an aggressive hog they say has roamed western Manitoba for roughly two years.” A spokesman for the organization, Squeal on Pigs Manitoba, said “Most pigs are fairly reclusive. They don't like to be seen out in the open, and this one seems to have no fear of people. He's been seen along roads, travelling during the daylight, and he seems like he's got really no fear of people."
I wonder what the pig is thinking?
Notes from readers on #45
Several readers assured me, “Misty really does love you.”
One friend, who has piano-playing amongst his many skills (which include the political and diplomatic), commented: “One of my favourite songs is ‘Misty.’ Didn’t know about Fiona.”
One reader asked, “Have you ever read a story called The Game of Rat and Dragon by a guy whose writing name was Cordwainer Smith? It addresses what one particular cat thinks.” Here’s Cordwainer Smith’s fantastical story (Smith’s real name was Paul Linebarger), set far in the future:
The last word on sheep goes to the irrepressible David Wolinsky: “Does it bother them that they are around solely to ensure I have really comfortable sheets and lamb chops on my plate?”
I’d bet Fiona’s “loneliness” was a lifestyle choice and not an accidental predicament. She’d obviously already had an interaction with humans earlier.
Dear Philip,
Years ago our friends lived on Great Island - except through the winter. They had a few cats. One year they were leaving and, as usual rounded them up to take along with them. They searched high and low but one cat was not to be found. Finally, with great regret, they left. When they returned, a few months later, there she was. She had a huge thick coat of fur - looked almost like a baby bear - but she had survived.