Thursday, January 26, 2006
What a life to take, what a bond to break--I'll be missing you
I poured one out the other day for the Thames whale. If you feel like crying, that's okay. Let it out. Thames whale will be a part of us always. And let us not forget that he lives on in the hearts and minds of his children. Except that it was a sexually immature female, but let's not concentrate on that part. In one of nature's grand ironies, the Thames whale, a marine animal that derives water from squid prey, died of dehydration while swimming through a freshwater river. Not that you would want to drink Thames water, of course.
Who was the Thames whale? An angel from the deep, a prophet sent to bring joy and hope to a dark and dreary nation? The herald of eldritch secrets known only to the creatures of the abyss? Perhaps. But more likely, the Thames whale was a lost Northern bottlenose whale, Hyperoodon ampullatus, one of the largest members of the beaked whale family, Ziphiidae. Beaked whales are far and away the most mysterious and poorly-understood of the mighty cetaceans, and cetologists believe that there a number of species still unknown to science. Beaked whales are elusive and deep-diving, avoiding coastal regions and major shipping lanes. Several taxa are known only from skeletal remains that have washed up on shore. Beaked whales are so named because of of their elongate, tubular rostral region, and most species have only two teeth. In males of the strap-toothed whale, Mesoplodon layardii, these teeth, which originate on the lower jaw, grow up and curl over the top of the beak, making it impossible for the whale to fully open its mouth. Apparently it is still able to feed on squid in this state.
Thames whale is gone. But its legacy remains. Veterinary pathologist Paul Jepson, who oversaw the autopsy of the Thames whale, has stated that, "The last few days have been an unforgettable and ultimately sad experience for us all, and we are now determined that the whale did not die in vain." Yes! People of the world, do not let that whale's noble sacrifice come to naught. It taught us to love one another, regardless of race, creed, or being a multiton oceanic predator. It taught us that an ordinary day in London can become a wonderful, flip-flop funderful day and all it takes is your imagination...and the invasion of an incredibly rare whale species. And perhaps most of all, it taught us to eat squid. Eat squid or die trying!
I poured one out the other day for the Thames whale. If you feel like crying, that's okay. Let it out. Thames whale will be a part of us always. And let us not forget that he lives on in the hearts and minds of his children. Except that it was a sexually immature female, but let's not concentrate on that part. In one of nature's grand ironies, the Thames whale, a marine animal that derives water from squid prey, died of dehydration while swimming through a freshwater river. Not that you would want to drink Thames water, of course.
Who was the Thames whale? An angel from the deep, a prophet sent to bring joy and hope to a dark and dreary nation? The herald of eldritch secrets known only to the creatures of the abyss? Perhaps. But more likely, the Thames whale was a lost Northern bottlenose whale, Hyperoodon ampullatus, one of the largest members of the beaked whale family, Ziphiidae. Beaked whales are far and away the most mysterious and poorly-understood of the mighty cetaceans, and cetologists believe that there a number of species still unknown to science. Beaked whales are elusive and deep-diving, avoiding coastal regions and major shipping lanes. Several taxa are known only from skeletal remains that have washed up on shore. Beaked whales are so named because of of their elongate, tubular rostral region, and most species have only two teeth. In males of the strap-toothed whale, Mesoplodon layardii, these teeth, which originate on the lower jaw, grow up and curl over the top of the beak, making it impossible for the whale to fully open its mouth. Apparently it is still able to feed on squid in this state.
Thames whale is gone. But its legacy remains. Veterinary pathologist Paul Jepson, who oversaw the autopsy of the Thames whale, has stated that, "The last few days have been an unforgettable and ultimately sad experience for us all, and we are now determined that the whale did not die in vain." Yes! People of the world, do not let that whale's noble sacrifice come to naught. It taught us to love one another, regardless of race, creed, or being a multiton oceanic predator. It taught us that an ordinary day in London can become a wonderful, flip-flop funderful day and all it takes is your imagination...and the invasion of an incredibly rare whale species. And perhaps most of all, it taught us to eat squid. Eat squid or die trying!
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