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rabbitcruiser · 4 years ago

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National American Eagle Day

The bald eagle is the national symbol and emblem of the United States, as well as the country's national bird. It also is on the obverse side of the Great Seal of the United States. Today we celebrate the bald eagle, on the anniversary of the day in 1782 when the seal bearing its image became official. Besides being celebrated for being on the Great Seal and for being the country's symbol and national bird, the eagle is celebrated today for its recovery after almost becoming extinct, for the values and ideals it has come to represent, and for its importance to American folklore and society.

In 1776, Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, and Thomas Jefferson were tasked with creating a seal for the newly formed country. Their design was not accepted by Congress, and a few other committees were formed over the next few years where various people worked on designing the seal. Finally, after six years, a design was approved and became official on June 20, 1782.

The Great Seal is attached to many official documents, such as treaties and presidential proclamations. There is an official Great Seal kept in a mahogany cabinet in Exhibit Hall at the State Department in Washington D.C., which is used to stamp the seal on documents. The obverse and reverse of the seal can also be found on the back side of the one dollar bill.

The eagle is at the center of the obverse side of the Great Seal. It is holding an olive branch in its right talon and thirteen arrows in its left talon. The olive branch symbolizes the country's commitment to peace, while the arrows symbolize the country's readiness for war. The thirteen arrows also represent the original colonies. The eagle holds a scroll in its beak, on which is written the original national motto, "E pluribus unum," which means "out of many, one." This too is a reference to the original thirteen colonies, which came together to form a new country. This side of the seal is considered to be the coat of arms of the United States.

American Eagle Day has gone by—or goes by—various names such as Bald Eagle Day, National Bald Eagle Day, National Eagle Day, National American Eagle Day, and American Bald Eagle Day. Regardless of its name, it takes place on June 20 and celebrates the same thing. On January 28, 1982, President Ronald Reagan issued a proclamation for National Bald Eagle Day, after a joint resolution of Congress designated 1982 as the Bicentennial Year of the American Bald Eagle, and June 20, 1982, as National Bald Eagle Day. American Eagle Day was proclaimed by President Bill Clinton in 1995, as well as by Tennessee Governor Don Sundquist, after urging from the American Eagle Foundation.

Reagan and Clinton's proclamations did not make it an official annual day for the bald eagle, though, but the public has celebrated the eagle annually on today's date, nonetheless. Furthermore, almost all states have since made the day an official observance for the bald eagle. Beginning in 2007, the United States Senate started passing resolutions marking the day. If a joint resolution with the House of Representatives is passed, American Eagle Day would permanently be established. Then, a presidential proclamation would just need to be issued each year, as presidential proclamations don't renew.

Bald eagles are only found in North America, and their numbers began going down after Europeans arrived on the continent. In 1782, there were between 25,000 and 75,000 bald eagles in the lower 48 states, but by the late 1800s, they began becoming scarce. This was because of a few reasons. They were seen as vermin and a threat to livestock and were shot by farmers. Others saw them as game. Western movement in the United States destroyed habitats and food sources. In 1940, Congress acted to protect the birds by passing the Bald Eagle Act.

It was also around this time, though, just after World War II, when DDT began being used. It got rid of mosquitos and other small agricultural pests, but it also had a detrimental effect on bald eagles. Small animals ingested the chemical and were in turn eaten by eagles, affecting them and their eggs. Eggs became thinner, causing them to break. By 1963, only 417 mating pairs of bald eagles were left in the lower 48 states. The banning of DDT in 1972 is seen as the most important thing to help the recovery of the bald eagle. The Endangered Species Acts of 1966 and 1978 also helped with the restoration of the birds. It took more than laws to bring back the birds, though. Many birds were bred in captivity and reintroduced to places throughout the United States. The work and efforts of federal and state fish and wildlife agencies, scientists, environmentalists, conservationists, and groups like the American Eagle Foundation all were fundamental to the restoration of the bald eagle population.

The birds were removed from the endangered species list in 1995, and in June of 2007 their status was changed from "threatened" to "protected." By the late 2000s, there were estimated to be 10,000 nesting pairs. Some believe there are now about 15,000 nesting pairs in the lower 48 states. Bald eagles still face threats, however, such as loss of habitat, contaminants, and diseases, so it is important that they remain protected.

Bald eagles are not actually bald but have white plumage on their heads. Young bald eagles mainly have brown heads. Eagles eat fish, as well as small animals such as ducks, crabs, gulls, rabbits, and amphibians. Sometimes they chase down other birds and steal food from them, scavenge for food in dumpsters, or eat carrion—decaying dead animals. They can dive at speeds of 100 miles an hour to catch their prey, and otherwise fly at a speed of about 30 miles an hour.

Bald eagles usually mate for life, after pairing up at about the age of four or five. Females lay two or three eggs, and both parents incubate and protect them from predators such as ravens, gulls, and squirrels. Both parents also feed the young, as well as build the nest the family lives in. The nests are made with sticks and lined with softer materials such as grass and feathers. They may be used multiple years, and new material is added to them each year. The nests are usually two to four feet deep and four to five feet wide. The Guinness World Record for the largest bird's nest is of a bald eagle nest. It was twenty 20 feet deep and 9.5 feet wide.

Female bald eagles are larger than males, which is the easiest way to tell the sexes apart, as they both have the same plumage pattern. Full grown eagles have wingspans of about seven feet. The birds often live to be about 30 to 35 years, and it is believed the oldest wild bald eagle lived to be 38.

The American Eagle Foundation is instrumental in organizing events for American Eagle Day each year. Conservation and educational organizations hold public outreach events, such as workshops and lectures, to show the importance of protecting bald eagles and other wildlife. Many citizens also celebrate the eagle in various other ways on the day.

How to Observe

Visit the American Eagle Foundation or learn more about the foundation in general. They put on an event each year that you could attend, but if you are unable to, there are live eagle nest cameras on their website that you could view instead, and you could donate to support the foundation's work as well.

You also could look for other events closer to your home that are taking place. On your own, you could learn more about bald eagles by reading about them. One famous bald eagle you could learn about is Old Abe. You could also visit a zoo to see one or find some out in the wild. If you are interested in the historical significance of the day, you could visit the Great Seal in Washington D.C. Other ways the day could be celebrated are by flying a flag on a flagpole with an eagle on top, listening to the Eagles, or listening to songs about eagles.

As it is not yet an official national day, you could write to your governor or the President, asking them to support the day. It may be even more fitting to write to the leadership of the House of Representatives, in order to ask them to join the Senate in passing a joint resolution to make American Eagle Day permanent.

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v-thinks-on · 5 years ago

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A Study in Scarlet

Part 1 of The Man Who Sold the World

A young woman sat at her desk in a small office, hammering away at the mountain of paperwork before her. The sound of a lone violin drifted down from the upstairs flat; it seemed Dr. Jonathan Holmes was at it again. He didn’t play, as far as she was aware. He just listened, from records, of all things, at all hours. In the three months Margaret Thompson had been the landlady of 221 Baker Street, she had awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of the violin at least as many times.

It wasn’t that Dr. Holmes was a bad tenant, per se, just that he could be a tad unusual. You wouldn’t know it from looking at him, but he had lived at 221B Baker Street longer than anyone could remember. He was a kind man and his payments were princely for the small, outdated flat. But he was very particular in his habits, and ever so often he would mention something that he had no way of knowing.

And then there were the visitors. The strangest assortment of people arrived at the oddest of hours - almost as odd as the hours she heard the violin - in various states of distress. He always heard them, no matter when they arrived. Yet, he seemed to be a largely friendless man. Most people came by once or twice in the span of a week or two and then never again, and even the few who came with some frequency appeared to be on business of some sort - she always managed to find some excuse not to ask what.

The music wafting down from his flat really was beautiful in a haunting sort of way, though sometimes she wished he would play something a little more upbeat. But she couldn’t afford to just sit and listen when there was work to be done.

Margaret had barely returned to the form she was supposed to be filling out when a knock sounded at the front door. She put the form aside, not without a hint of relief, and forced herself from the comfortable chair.

“Coming!” she called out.

She swung the door open to find a young Indian woman - one of Dr. Holmes’s more frequent visitors - waiting a bit impatiently outside.

“He’s upstairs,” Margaret said.

“Thank you,” the woman replied and ascended the stairs.

Dr. John Watson sat in the living room of 221B Baker Street. The chair he occupied had long ago been the favorite of his dear friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. At times Holmes had sat in this very chair as he played his violin, a languid air overcoming his usually sharp features. Other times, he would pace the small room, letting the music flow out of his motion and his motion match the music. But all of that had been a very long time ago indeed.

Watson did not deny that he was attempting to recreate what once had been, as futile as the attempt inevitably was. He had done a fair job at it - the results were passable at the very least. The pieces he chose were a good fit for his mood - he was nearly always in the same mood when he turned to the records for consolation - but they paled in comparison to the original. It often crossed his mind how much of a shame it was that Holmes had died too soon for his improvisations to be immortalized on vinyl.

Watson let out a long sigh, letting the music wash over him until there was nothing else. Only now, long after his dear friend was dead, did he fancy he understood the joy Holmes found in listening to music. In the past his primary pleasure had been watching the way it affected Holmes, but now the music consumed him, carried him away from his lonesome existence. Still, for an instant he could have sworn that out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a tall, thin man bowing away at a delicate instrument.

A knock on the door broke him from his reverie.

“Come in.” He raised his voice over the speakers, but his eyes remained shut.

“Dr. Holmes,” the familiar voice of Detective-Inspector Talia Houghton, of the Scotland Yard, greeted him.

“Mrs. Houghton,” Watson - known for many years now as Dr. Holmes - replied, “What brings you here on this fine day?” He sat up straight and examined her.

The past few days had brought rain in abundance, so her shoes painted a clear map of the city, with splotches of mud from here and there, the most recent layer placing her outside the Scotland Yard in a hurry, and below that some indication that she had recently spent some time not far from Baker Street.

He met her steady gaze and urged her to tell her tale.

“I’ve got a case you might find interesting. It’s an unusual one, I’ll tell you that.” She shook her head in exasperation.

“Go on.” He leaned forward and pressed the tips of his fingers together in a gesture he had picked up over years of imitation. “And do have a seat.”

She took the other chair by the fireplace and fished a stack of laminated photographs out of her bag as she continued, “It’s a double murder. We’d say it was revenge, cut and dry, but the crime scenes look like they’ve been set up. It began a few days ago, on the 4th. Charles and I were called in to investigate a murder at 3 Lauriston Gardens, off of Brixton Road. It was a run down little house” - she handed him a picture that fit the description perhaps too well - “that seemed to have been abandoned. Charles is looking into the owner now. This is the scene of the crime.”

She handed him another photograph of a large square room, empty hold for the body of a middle-aged man, lying contorted in the middle of the floor, his body tensed at odd angles as though he was in severe pain. The floor around him was splattered with blood, but no wounds were visible on his person - a nasty poison then. He seemed to be in his mid-forties, of average height, with broad shoulders, curly black hair, and a stubbly beard. His suit was an awkward fit, nice as it was, and many years out of style. He was dressed in a fashion that Dr. Holmes had not seen for a very long time; there was even a top hat on the ground beside him. Only some subtle signs of wear suggested the clothes’ age - they were antiques that had been hardly used and well maintained, probably recently purchased from a collector.

Dr. Holmes looked back up at Mrs. Houghton and she explained, “He was poisoned, I’ve got the report here, if you want to flip through it.” She put a small packet on the table between them. “He died quickly and painfully. The blood on the floor all belongs to the perpetrator, they checked it for DNA, but it didn't match anyone on record. This is his too.”

She handed him another photograph and Dr. Holmes nearly dropped it in surprise. On a yellow square of bare plaster, devoid of the vulgar, blotched and fraying wallpaper that covered most of the room, was the word “RACHE” in large, dripping red letters, written in what could only have been blood.

“There weren’t any lights in the room,” Mrs. Houghton said, leaning forward to look at the photo in his hands. “We would’ve missed it if Charles hadn’t been looking over there with the torch.”

“You know what this is?” Dr. Holmes asked with some urgency. It wasn’t identical, no, but it was close enough and the writing on the wall sealed it.

“Our first theory was that the perp was trying to write ‘Rachel’ and was interrupted before he could finish,” she explained, “But the handwriting people squashed that; he wasn’t in a rush and didn’t stop short. ‘Rache’ is German for ‘revenge,’ so the current theory is that we’re looking for an angry German and there’s a ring in there” - she handed him a photo of a plain gold ring - “that corroborates that it was a crime of passion in revenge for something about a marriage, but that doesn’t explain it all being staged. Those clothes didn’t belong to the victim; it looks like the perp dressed him up once he was dead. And it gets even stranger - he wasn’t the only one. We found a couple letters in his pocket.”

She handed Dr. Holmes another photo of a pair of letters from the Liverpool and Great Western Steamship Company about an, as of 1881, upcoming journey from Liverpool to New York. One was addressed to Mr. Drebber and one to a Mr. Joseph Stangerson, both sent to the American Exchange on the Strand to be left until called for.

“Both the steamship company and the American Exchange have been out of operation for years. We were searching for Mr. Stangerson. We didn’t expect to find him dead.”

She handed Dr. Holmes a photo of what he deduced was a rather modern, fashionable hotel room. The floor was splattered with blood. Its lone inhabitant huddled below the window, wearing a nightdress that was once typical, but now would have looked matronly at best, torn and covered in dark red splotches. Written on the wall above him, in what Dr. Holmes suspected this time was the victim’s blood, was again the word “RACHE.” Mr. Jefferson Hope’s revenge was complete.

The next photo Mrs. Houghton handed him gave him a closer look at the victim. Mr. Stangerson had been stabbed on his left side, it was a deep wound that appeared to have penetrated his heart and ended his life. Upon the window sill above him was a small pillbox that Dr. Holmes did not doubt contained a pair of pills - one of the most deadly poison, and one entirely benign.

“That was taken yesterday afternoon in one of the guestrooms of the Ibis Hotel near Euston Station. The victim, actually a man by the name of John Rowe, was murdered at about two that morning. According to the coroner, it wasn’t the stab wound that did him in. He was poisoned and probably put into that nightgown after he was already dead - like Drebber - and then the culprit stabbed him for good measure. I don’t know why he stabbed a dead man, but there you go.

“We were able to identify John Rowe as the man who checked into the room, though nearly all of his belongings were found in a nearby dumpster. Everything of any value was gone. We still haven’t been able to find the real identity of Mr. Drebber. This is all of the identification they had on them.”

She handed him another pair of photos. Both depicted sets of cards, belonging to Enoch J. Drebber and Joseph Stangerson respectively, from Cleveland, Ohio in the United States of America, dated circa 1880. They were good replicas; the culprit had done his research.

“We don’t know why someone would want to make the crime scene look like it was committed in the 1800s. Nostalgia for Queen Victoria? The best theory we’ve got right now is that the culprit is trying to get revenge for something that happened to an Enoch Drebber and Joseph Stangerson then, maybe the victims were related to those involved or something. I looked up both of the names and all I could find in relation to a crime was a pair of fictional characters. We’d appreciate all the help we can get.”

The man once known as Dr. Watson let silence fall as he mulled the case over. At long last he spoke in a hushed voice, “Jefferson Hope died of an aneurysm the night before he was to be tried, he had no survivors that I am aware of.”

“So it was a real case? We couldn’t find anything in the Yard records, it must be down with the files in the basement. They still haven’t been computerized yet.”

He gave her a small smile, “I like to hope that some things will be left in reality, free from the world of electricity these past generations have built around themselves.”

“You sound like my grandfather,” she said with a laugh. It was times like these that his usually ambiguous age showed. “Computers make things a lot easier, a lot less time wasted on searching for things. I’d recommend you get one, though you seem to manage alright without somehow.”

“I happen to be very familiar with the case,” Dr. Holmes said, returning to the matter at hand. “The perpetrator seems to be emulating it rather closely. I expect he’s hiding out as a London cab driver as the original perpetrator did, unless it’s all a ruse to some other ends. Mr. Drebber and Stangerson were murdered by an American, also from Cleveland, Ohio, by the name of Jefferson Hope. I wonder if your man is so bold as to claim to be the same. All three men were originally from Utah, though I doubt that has much bearing now.”

Mrs. Houghton nodded, lost in thought, no doubt about the case. At last she found herself again, “Thank you, this should be enough to point us back in the right direction. I’ll call back once we’ve got the culprit.”

“Not a problem,” he said with a smile. “Thank you for bringing it to my attention. This case is particularly interesting to me, perhaps I will take it upon myself to do some investigating as well. I may require your assistance in a few days time.”

Mrs. Houghton agreed and soon departed.

Watson leaned back in his chair by the fire. It was a “three pipe problem” if ever he’d seen one - a faint smile crossed his face at the thought, but he’d been trying to quit tobacco for years.

He doubted this was a case of revenge, no the killer had nothing to do with Mr. Drebber or Mr. Stangerson. Even when the brilliant detective was long dead, everything came back to him. Watson let out a sigh. It could be anyone in the city, but if he knew his man, he would be easy enough to fish out. All Watson had to do was call up all the local papers and wait.

It was not long before the sound of a virtuoso scraping away at the violin enveloped the room once more. Margaret Thomson heard a distant echo of the music floating down the stairs as she continued her never ending paperwork.

Dr. Jonathan Holmes did not have long to wait for a reply to his advertisement. The first answer came that afternoon, requesting an appointment at approximately eight o’clock - not quite confirmation, but a very good sign as far as he was concerned.

Mrs. Houghton arrived at a quarter to eight and joined him in his vigil.

As the time neared, it felt distinctly surreal. With the strength of memory reinforced by oft repeated recollection, he could almost see Holmes sitting in his usual chair by the fire, scraping away at his violin as he had that day, so many years ago, while they lay in wait. As the music came to a carefully timed stop, he could almost hear Holmes’ words filling the void, his reminders of what to do in preparation - yes the door was open with the key in the lock - his irrelevant discussion of some book he had picked up the day before-

A sharp ring at the bell chimed in time with Watson’s recollections.

He was Holmes, standing and shifting his chair towards the door as a servant - actually the landlady - waved in their guest.

“Does Dr. Holmes live here?”

Uncertain, shuffling steps upon the stairs. A feeble tap at the door.

He could almost see Holmes’ uncertain expression, but this time he knew what was going on. “Come in.”

The door swung open and in stepped a feeble old woman, different enough to jar Dr. Holmes back to the present, but similar enough that he knew he was right. It was a good disguise, her boots even bore splashes of mud distinctive of the Houndsditch area. As he had seen Holmes do so many times, he waved her in and closed the door behind her, locking it shut. He was a foolish criminal indeed, if he had come himself, but culprit or confederate, this person would give him his answers.

The old woman pulled out an evening paper and pointed at their - no, his - advertisement. Her voice came out uncertain and stilted, as she mimed half-remembered lines, “It’s this that brought me, good gentleman, a gold wedding ring in the Brixton Road-”

“Your name and address, if you please,” Dr. Holmes interrupted.

She appeared taken aback, but replied all the same, “Lynne Sawyer, I live at Number 13 Duncan Street, in Houndsditch.”

“And the ring belongs to your girl, Sally Dennis, does it?”

“Sally Daniels, she lost it- on her way to the c-circus,” she told her tale hesitatingly - Dr. Holmes found himself a little disappointed in the criminal for doing such a poor job of it.

Still, the chase was on. Holmes had failed to capture the man who had come for the ring disguised as an old woman, but this time they would succeed. He motioned for Mrs. Houghton to step forward.

She took out the ring that they had found at the crime scene, still in a plastic evidence bag. “Do you recognize it?”

Mrs. Sawyer stepped forward and leaned over to examine the ring, before giving a frantic nod. “It belongs to my daughter,” she attempted to explain, holding out her hand for it.

Dr. Holmes stepped in before she could take it, and Mrs. Houghton put the evidence away. “We know everything about Jefferson Hope and the murders of Drebber and Stangerson. Your only hope is to make a clean breast of it.”

“Murders?” Mrs. Sawyer gasped, her eyes widened with fear. “What’s going on? There must be some mistake!”

“Your game is up. Tell us what you know and you may receive a lighter sentence for cooperating.”

“I don’t know anything about any murders, I swear! If this is a prank, it’s a bad one!”

“But you know Jefferson Hope.”

“He just lives in the flat below mine. A couple weeks ago he said he needed to borrow a ring for a few days. He was willing to pay so much for nothing and with money so tight, I didn’t ask any questions. All he wanted was for me to loan him the ring for a couple of days, and then to come pick it up when you put out that advertisement, he even told me what to say. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, and I don’t know anything about any murder!”

He searched her features for the slightest tell, but as far as he could see she was speaking the truth. “Could you tell me a little more about Mr. Hope?” Dr. Holmes pressed.

“He’s a kind, strong man, a little younger than yourself,” Mrs. Sawyer said.

Dr. Holmes smiled at that - there was no doubt he was younger by a century at least. “Could you give him a year?”

She hesitated. “Forty, or forty-five, maybe.”

“What does he look like?”

“He’s a large man, not overweight I don’t think, but strong. He was a great help when I moved into the flat. He saw me in distress and offered to help with the lifting. I tried to pay him back, but he refused to take any of it.”

“Color?”

“Very tan, I think he does a lot of work outside.”

The description matched the man himself well. “You said he lives in the flat under yours. What’s your real address?”

“It’s 13 Duncan Street.”

“Do you know how long he’s lived there or where he resided previously?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I haven’t known him for very long, I don’t know much about him.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us about him? Even the smallest detail may be of use to us.” Dr. Holmes tried to keep his voice gentle, but his impatience no doubt showed through.

She shook her head.

Finally, Dr. Holmes signaled for Mrs. Houghton to take over. She stood and stepped over to them. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Sawyer, but I’ll have to take you in for further questioning.”

“What’s going on? I swear I haven’t done anything!” Mrs. Sawyer protested.

“There’s no need to worry,” Dr. Holmes said as soothingly as he could. “She’ll just ask you a few more questions and make sure that you really are who you claim to be. So long as you answer honestly and thoroughly, you’ll be fine.”

Mrs. Sawyer gave an unsteady nod and Mrs. Houghton led her out the door.

Meanwhile, Dr. Holmes had a lead of his own to pursue. He hailed a cab and set off through the streets of London.

The drive was dizzying. The glare of bright lights cut through the darkness in blinding bursts that rushed by, swept up in the constant movement of cars and pedestrians alike. Horns blared, people shouted, the world had never been wilder. Dr. Holmes tried to keep his eyes focused against the visual din, squinting them to ease the burn of the flashing lights as he peered into the darkness.

At last the car screeched to a stop and he stepped out onto the sidewalk. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the sudden stillness. Once he had regained his bearings, he made his way to the door of number 13 Duncan Street. A series of sharp knocks at the door brought him a man who identified himself as Keswick - after everything else, the name could not have been a coincidence. He seemed well-to-do, wearing a new sports jacket and slacks. His shoes and pants were clean despite the muddy weather, so he must have spent most of the day indoors.

“My apologies for the hour,” Dr. Holmes said, “Does one Mr. Jefferson Hope live here?”

Mr. Keswick shook his head. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard the name,” he said, but his eyebrow twitched, suggesting otherwise.

“Not in the flat below Mrs. Lynne Sawyer?” Dr. Holmes prompted.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you. Lynne lives here, she moved in fairly recently, but I don’t know any Jefferson Hope.”

Dr. Holmes knocked at every door on both sides of the street, but no one had heard of Jefferson Hope. A few knew of Mrs. Sawyer, but she hadn’t lived there long, so none knew her well. Some had seen someone matching Mr. Hope’s description helping Mrs. Sawyer move in, or otherwise spending time near her apartment, but they all assumed he was merely a friend of hers and took no further notice.

As much as Dr. Holmes asked about any of it - Hope, Sawyer, or even Keswick - no one else had as much as a helpful word to share. It was late in the evening by the time he returned to his own flat on Baker Street thoroughly done-up, if he said so himself.

As he lay in his bed, sleep slowly drawing him away from the world of mortals, he could have sworn he heard the sharp sound of the latchkey, followed shortly by Holmes’s hearty laugh echoing into the night after a fruitless chase.

The next morning Watson awoke to a dull ache in his shoulder and a sting in his leg from a battle in a war long since forgotten and left to the annals of history. His whole body resisted the very idea of movement. Still, somehow, his sense of decency managed to force him to his feet and the urgency of the case at hand kept him in motion through his morning routine until he was safely seated in his chair by the fireplace.

It was not long before a call from Detective-Inspector Houghton confirmed the one conclusion he had been able to draw from the night before; Mrs. Lynne Sawyer, was, by all appearances, who she claimed to be. Her address was no coincidence, both she and her daughter had been offered those particular apartments for well below market, putting more suspicion on Mr. Keswick. Unfortunately, Mrs. Sawyer had nothing new to say about Mr. Jefferson Hope.

If the culprit intended to follow through with his masquerade and turn himself in, now would be his chance, but Dr. Holmes doubted it would be that easy. If a cab driver under the name of Jefferson Hope existed at all, he was by all likelihood gone. Watson had been so caught up in being clever, so determined to be- no, to best Holmes at his own game that he forgot to think. As much as he wished it, he was not reliving his first case with the brilliant detective. Sherlock Holmes was dead and he could not live for the both of them, the best he could do was carry on the detective’s work. If only Mrs. Houghton had managed to find Mr. Hope before the advertisement had gone out, he may have been caught unawares, but it was too late now; he very well knew they were on to him.

The only other lead Dr. Holmes had was this man Keswick. Perhaps he was a little less careful, though it would not be easy to connect him to the crime. Still, a few calls to various acquaintances accumulated over the past hundred some years, and Dr. Holmes managed to trace the ownership of the Duncan Street flats in Houndsditch.

The current owner was in fact a man going by the name of Christopher Keswick who had purchased the flats in the past year for significantly above market from a Mr. and Mrs. Stone. Modern conveniences did have their advantages; a single call to Mr. Stone confirmed the information he had gathered - “a straightforward man... very eager to buy the flats… no, nothing particularly strange about him… didn’t say why he wanted it so bad” - and gave him a description of a man that matched the one he had seen the previous evening.

He was waiting for a call that he hoped would tell him a little more about Mr. Keswick when another call arrived from Detective-Inspector Houghton.

She began without preamble, “Jefferson Hope, an American from Utah by way of Cleveland and more recently Copenhagen, was a cab driver for nearly a year. He officially retired as of today, though he gave notice a week ago. The company's records show that he picked up one Samuel Easton - the man we identified as our Mr. Drebber - from the Ibis Hotel on the evening of his death. His ‘permanent’ address was a place he rented for a month around the time he was hired and we traced the phone number he left to a cheap cell phone left in a nearby dumpster. We’re looking for other records under the same name, but it looks like he’s gone, or rather never existed at all. I hope you have better news.”

Dr. Holmes answered reluctantly, “The best I can offer is a potential co-conspirator; Mr. Christopher Keswick who owns the flat rented by Mrs. Sawyer. I haven’t found anything yet, but I suspect he’s not entirely above board. Do you have any information on Mr. Easton?”

She paused to write something down before saying, “He was here on business from Utah, stayed in the same hotel as Mr. Rowe and went missing at about the same time as we found ‘Mr. Drebber.’ It turns out both of them have been under investigation for various offences in Utah for some time, but neither has ever been convicted, and there’s no known tie to anyone here.

“We’ve also got the reports back on the clothes and other effects. It looks like they’re authentic, probably purchased over the internet. We’ve been going through sales, but haven’t found ‘Jefferson Hope’ there yet. I’m afraid our leads are drying up faster than we can find them. If you find anything, it’d be a great help.”

“There is one more thing.” Dr. Holmes hesitated, but he could not risk losing a potential lead. “You may want to keep an eye out for a Professor James Moriarty.”

Note: This story has been a long time in the making. I started writing it all the way back in 2012 and didn’t finish until 2018, though most of the actual writing was done on the later end, along side wrapping up A Scandal on Baker Street. Now, it is finally ready to post (with some minor and major revisions)!

I will be posting a chapter every other week, alternating with my Star Trek: Generations fix-it. I hope you enjoy!

#v writes #Sherlock Holmes #The Man Who Sold the World

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thecuriouswalrus-adventuresak · 7 years ago

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Media: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

I attended a meeting last week related to co-management of marine mammals and the topic of media was raised with respect to how destructive it can be for sensitive topics, such as subsistence harvest. This got me thinking about the use of all types of media (televised/written news, social media, etc) and how even though media can be a powerful tool, if used incorrectly or irresponsibly, it can also be very dangerous.

A prime example is the polar bear video and photos that went viral several months ago.

Photo: Polar bear on Somerset Island. Credit: Paul Nicklen and Cristina Mittermeirer of Sea Legacy, published in National Geographic.

There aren’t many people who wouldn’t be moved by a photo like this - I’ll admit that I stopped looking at Facebook for a while because I couldn’t stand seeing it multiple times a day. If you watch the video, the music makes it even more depressing and dramatic. When the photos and video were published, a link to climate change causing polar bears to starve and die was made. While there is a connection between the reduction in sea ice (where bears hunt) and abundance of food (primarily seals that depend on ice), there is also the plain hard fact that bears, just like every other creature on Earth, can suffer from disease or, get old and die. Many scientists and advocacy groups have weighed in on this topic, each side having its own opinions. Data from the Canadian government indicate that this individual was from an area where the polar bear population is fairly stable, with other nearby subpopulations even showing slight increases in number. And bears are vulnerable to some of the same health issues faced by other mammals, including humans, such as cancer, parasite infection, and pollutants. As there was no necropsy performed after the bear presumably died, we’ll never know what actually was causing it to starve. But the fact is this: multiple sources of media were used to promote an unsubstantiated assumption that climate change is causing polar bears to starve and die. And many people around the world just latched onto the idea, no questions asked.

While this particular incident stems from Canada, another example of how damaging media can be comes from right here in Alaska. A young whaler from an Alaska Native community on St. Lawrence Island struck his first bowhead whale in April of 2017. In subsistence culture, this is one of the greatest moments of a young hunter’s life as it is a right of passage into adulthood. Photos of this amazing success were shared on Facebook as a way to highlight the gift given to the community and to celebrate the young hunter. What should have been a time of great joy and thanks turned into a social media nightmare as there was severe backlash from the general public who have no understanding or respect for subsistence culture. I think of how emotionally fragile I was at 16 and cannot even begin to imagine how devastating it must have been to this young hunter to have so many people judge and condemn him, even sending death threats, for what he accomplished not just for his family and village, but for the many others across Alaska who were fed by the whale he struck. Read the full story from the Anchorage Daily News here.

Photo: Chris Apassingok with a darting gun used for whaling, in Gambell, Alaska. Credit: Ash Adams, published in Anchorage Daily News.

Stories such as these showcase how media of all kinds can severely misconstrue things, especially if the context of the event or actions are not adequately described. Now, this may seem pretty hypocritical of me to say here on my blog, a form of social media. However, media can also be a powerful tool to raise awareness of issues to a broad audience that would otherwise be in the dark.

I attended the Wildlife Film Forum hosted by the Sausalito Film Series in Sausalito, CA in 2016. At the Forum, three short films were shown and included interactive sessions with experts and filmmakers. One of these films was ‘Souls of the Vermilion Sea’ about the vaquita, an endangered porpoise in Mexico that faces extinction in the next few years due to entanglement in illegal fishing gear. I was in the middle of planning a congressional briefing on marine mammal bycatch so images of dead vaquita were not new to me - but they sure were to the audience of the Forum. This event was held at a swanky club with a view of the Golden Gate Bridge and I was not the least bit surprised that many of the people attending the event had absolutely no idea that the world’s smallest cetacean was dying because of poaching activities for a fish with a swim bladder that is worth more than cocaine in China. The reactions became even more extreme when the elephant film was screened. All proceeds from the event were donated to the organizations associated with the films, and I’m sure that more than a few checkbooks came out at the end to add to that amount. While there may not have been more than 50-75 people at this event, those films made quite an impression and helped raise awareness (and funding!) about wildlife issues that folks in CA might never know about. Correct use of media to the right people (like the ones with much bigger checkbooks than myself) can be very beneficial.

Photo: A paid of vaquita in the Northern Gulf of California. Credit: Thomas A. Jefferson

Social media can also help to promote these issues. For example, the MMC Twitter page highlights any news, good or bad, related to vaquita. One of my personal favorites, the North Atlantic right whale, is also big in the news and on social media these days, though for a depressing reason (another species possibly headed to extinction in our lifetimes). I can only hope that such coverage helps to accelerate efforts that are already underway to help save these species.

As someone who has tended to stay away from most social media (I’m a novice blogger and Facebooker, no Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, etc.), I make every effort to make sure that whatever I share on FB or write on this blog are educationally and scientifically correct. On my personal page, I share information on marine debris, climate change in the Arctic, animal rescue, and other issues that many of my friends and family may not be aware of but may be things that they can address in their own lives. A great example is a video I shared a few weeks ago about how dangerous balloon releases are and the impact they can have on the environment and wildlife. I had a friend comment that he tried to explain to his father why releasing ballons for a kid’s birthday party is such a bad idea, and that so many people are just so clueless about this problem. My mom even tells me that she had no idea how bad some everyday items, such as getting a plastic straw in your beverage at dinner, can be for the environment. If I’m able to stop some balloons from being released or straws from being used, I’ll take that as a win.

Photo: A juvenile Kemp’s Ridley sea turtle ingested balloon debris. Credit: Blair Witherington, FWC

Lastly, I also try to provide adequate context of the issues that I address. Going back to subsistence culture, as I said in my first Curious Walrus post, the idea of harvesting whales, seals, and walrus for consumption was something that initially did not sit well with me. I can understand why many people reacted badly to the news of the young hunter in Gambell landing a whale. But I also understand what that whale means not just to the people of Gambell, but communities all over the state. That whale means food to get people through the year. I’ve been to the general store in Savoonga, the town next Gambell on St. Lawrence Island. The prices for what may of us consider basic staples, such as cereal and potato chips, were astronomical. Without bowhead, walrus, and seal, people would go broke purchasing food that is not nearly as nutritious for them. In fact, consuming store-bought goods can be harmful to many people that have been raised on subsistence resources. And let’s be honest here: whales and cows are genetically related and I bet that many of the people who lashed out about the harvest of the bowhead have enjoyed themselves a good number of burgers in their lives (no judgement here, I love burgers). In Alaskan Native culture, hunters say that the whale gives itself to a whaling crew that is deserving. Can we say the same of cows? Probably not.

Photo: Bowhead whales feeding in the Arctic. Credit: Amelia Brower, NOAA Fisheries

This post was not meant to be a rant or criticism of specific individuals. It was meant to highlight that media of all kinds is a powerful tool that reaches many people and can strongly affect the way that we view different issues. I hope that my colleagues who work on co-management of marine mammals will work to find a way that they can share the beauty of their culture with the world that will be received with respect and understanding, not with hate. With that in mind, think about how you use media and if there are ways that you can help promote productive messages (such as reducing debris in the ocean). And if you see something you don’t agree with, before you share or comment, ask yourself if you’re sure you know the whole story?

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dailynynews-blog · 7 years ago

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Missouri State Map, History, Population, Facts, Capitol, Flag

New Post has been published on https://www.dailynynews.com/2018/missouri-state-map-history-population-facts-capitol-flag/

Missouri State Map, History, Population, Facts, Capitol, Flag

Missouri is a state in the Midwestern United States. With over six million residents, it is the 18th-most populous state of the Union. The largest urban areas are Kansas City, St. Louis, Springfield, and Columbia; the capital is Jefferson City, located on the Missouri River. The state is the 21st-most extensive in area. In the South are the Ozarks, a forested highland, providing timber, minerals, and recreation. The Mississippi River forms the eastern border of the state.

Humans have inhabited the land now known as Missouri for at least 12,000 years. The Mississippian culture built cities and mounds, before declining in the 1300s. When European explorers arrived in the 1600s they encountered the Osage and Missouria nations. The French established Louisiana, a part of New France, and founded Ste. Genevieve in 1735 and St. Louis in 1764.

State of Missouri

Flag Seal

Nickname(s): Show Me State, Cave State, and Mother of the West Motto(s): Salus populi suprema lex esto (Latin) Let the good of the people be the supreme law State song(s): “Missouri Waltz“

Official language English Spoken languages

English 93.9%

Spanish 2.6%

German 0.4%

Missouri French

Demonym Missourian Capital Jefferson City Largest city Kansas City Largest metro Greater St. Louis Area Ranked 21st • Total 69,704 sq mi (180,530 km2) • Width 240 miles (390 km) • Length 300 miles (480 km) • % water 1.17 • Latitude 36° 0′ N to 40° 37′ N • Longitude 89° 6′ W to 95° 46′ W Population Ranked 18th • Total 6,093,000 (2016 est.) • Density 87.1/sq mi (33.7/km2) Ranked 30th • Median household income $59,196 (22nd) Elevation • Highest point Taum Sauk Mountain[3] 1,772 ft (540 m) • Mean 800 ft (244 m) • Lowest point St. Francis River at Arkansas border 230 ft (70 m) Before statehood Missouri Territory Admission to Union August 10, 1821 (24th) Governor Eric Greitens (R) Lieutenant Governor Mike Parson (R) Legislature Missouri General Assembly • Upper house Senate • Lower house House of Representatives U.S. Senators Claire McCaskill (D) Roy Blunt (R) U.S. House delegation Lacy Clay (D) Ann Wagner (R) Blaine Luetkemeyer (R) Vicky Hartzler (R) Emanuel Cleaver (D) Sam Graves (R) Billy Long (R) Jason T. Smith (R) (list) Time zone Central: UTC −6/−5 ISO 3166 US-MO Abbreviations MO, Mo. Website www.mo.gov

Missouri State Symbols and Emblems:

State Flag

The flag has a red, white, and blue background (representing Missouri’s French heritage; it was part of the Louisiana Purchase from France). The circular center is surrounded by 24 white stars (the number of states when Missouri entered the Union). Two grizzly bears represent bravery and strength. A knight’s helmet and another 24 stars are above the bears. The motto, “UNITED WE STAND, DIVIDED WE FALL” is around the inner circle. The motto, “SALUS POPULI SUPREMA LEX ESTA” (meaning “Let the welfare of the people be the supreme law”) is on a yellow ribbon under the bears. The inner circle has an eagle holding the olive branch of peace and the arrows of war (representing the federal government), a crescent moon, and another grizzly bear. The Roman numeral MDCCCXX is under the two bears (1820 was the date of the Missouri Compromise).

Animal Symbols:

State BirdBluebird State AnimalMissouri mule State Insect Honey bee State Aquatic AnimalPaddlefish A large, primitive, freshwater cartilaginous fish. State FishChannel catfish (Ictalurus punctatus)

Plant Symbols:

State Flower

White hawthorn

State Tree

Flowering dogwood

State Nut Tree

Eastern black walnut tree (Juglans nigra)

Earth Symbols:

State Fossil

Crinoid A sea lily that lived 250 million years ago.

State Mineral

Galena (Lead Sulfide)

State Rock

Mozarkite

Miscellaneous Symbols:

State Musical Instrument

Fiddle

State Folk Dance

Square dance

Geography

Missouri is landlocked and borders eight different states as does its neighbor, Tennessee. No state in the U.S. touches more than eight. Missouri is bounded by Iowa on the north; by Illinois, Kentucky, and Tennessee across the Mississippi River on the east; on the south by Arkansas; and by Oklahoma, Kansas, and Nebraska (the last across the Missouri River) on the west. Whereas the northern and southern boundaries are straight lines, the Missouri Bootheel protrudes southerly into Arkansas. The two largest rivers are the Mississippi (which defines the eastern boundary of the state) and the Missouri River (which flows from west to east through the state) essentially connecting the two largest metros of Kansas City and St. Louis.

Although today it is usually considered part of the Midwest, Missouri was historically seen by many as a border state, chiefly because of the settlement of migrants from the South and its status as a slave state before the Civil War, balanced by the influence of St. Louis. The counties that made up “Little Dixie” were those along the Missouri River in the center of the state, settled by Southern migrants who held the greatest concentration of slaves.

In 2005, Missouri received 16,695,000 visitors to its national parks and other recreational areas totaling 101,000 acres (410 km2), giving it $7.41 million in annual revenues, 26.6% of its operating expenditures

Wildlife

Missouri is home to a diversity of both flora and fauna. There is a large amount of fresh water present due to the Mississippi River, Missouri River, and Lake of the Ozarks, with numerous smaller tributary rivers, streams, and lakes. North of the Missouri River, the state is primarily rolling hills of the Great Plains, whereas south of the Missouri River, the state is dominated by the Oak-Hickory Central U.S. hardwood forest.

Demographics

The United States Census Bureau estimates that the population of Missouri was 6,083,672 on July 1, 2015, a 1.58% increase since the 2010 United States Census.

Missouri had a population of 5,988,927, according to the 2010 Census; an increase of 392,369 (7.0 percent) since the year 2000. From 2000 to 2007, this includes a natural increase of 137,564 people since the last census (480,763 births less 343,199 deaths), and an increase of 88,088 people due to net migration into the state. Immigration from outside the United States resulted in a net increase of 50,450 people, and migration within the country produced a net increase of 37,638 people. Over half of Missourians (3,294,936 people, or 55.0%) live within the state’s two largest metropolitan areas–St. Louis and Kansas City. The state’s population density 86.9 in 2009, is also closer to the national average (86.8 in 2009) than any other state.

In 2011, the racial composition of the state was:

84.0% White American (81.0% non-Hispanic white, 3.0% White Hispanic)

11.7% Black or African American

0.5% American Indian and Alaska Native

1.7% Asian American

0.1% Native Hawaiian and other Pacific Islander

1.9% Multiracial American

0.1% Some other race

In 2011, 3.7% of the total population was of Hispanic or Latino origin (they may be of any race).

Missouri racial breakdown of population Racial composition 1990 2000 2010 White 87.7% 84.9% 82.8% Black 10.7% 11.3% 11.6% Asian 0.8% 1.1% 1.6% Native 0.4% 0.4% 0.5% Native Hawaiian and other Pacific Islander – 0.1% 0.1% Other race 0.4% 0.8% 1.3% Two or more races – 1.5% 2.1%

Colleges and universities

University of Missouri System

The University of Missouri System is a state university system providing centralized administration for four universities, a health care system, an extension program, five research and technology parks, and a publishing press. More than 64,000 students are currently enrolled at its four campuses. Headquartered in Columbia on the original campus, the extension program provides distance learning and other educational initiatives statewide. The UM System was created in 1963 when the University of Missouri and its offshoot, the Missouri School of Mines and Metallurgy, were combined with the formerly-private University of Kansas City and a newly created campus in suburban St. Louis.

School Location(s) Control Type Enrollment Founded University of Missouri Columbia State university Doctoral/very high activity research university 33,266 1839 University of Missouri–Kansas City Kansas City State university Doctoral/high activity research university 16,944 1933 Missouri University of Science and Technology Rolla State university Doctoral/high activity research university 8,838 1870 University of Missouri–St. Louis St. Louis State University Doctoral/high activity research university 16,989 1963

Public universities

School Location(s) Control Type Enrollment Founded Harris–Stowe State University St. Louis Historically black* public university Baccalaureate college 1,854 1857 Lincoln University Jefferson City Historically black public university Master’s colleges and universities 3,109 1866 Missouri Southern State University Joplin Public university Baccalaureate college 5,264 1937 Missouri State University Springfield Public university Master’s colleges and universities 24,489 1905 Missouri Western State University St. Joseph Public university Baccalaureate college 5,508 1915 Northwest Missouri State University Maryville Public university Master’s colleges and universities 6,687 1905 Southeast Missouri State University Cape Girardeau Public university Master’s colleges and universities 10,738 1873 Truman State University Kirksville Public university Master’s colleges and universities 5,880 1867 University of Central Missouri Warrensburg Public university Master’s colleges and universities 14,395 1871

* Harris Teachers College was the City of St. Louis’ teachers college for white students, and Stowe Teachers College was for black students until 1954, when the school board merged the two.

Private colleges and universities

School Location(s) Control Type Enrollment (2009) Founded Avila University Kansas City Catholic Baccalaureate college 1,837 1916 Central Methodist University Fayette Methodist Baccalaureate college 1,000 1854 College of the Ozarks Point Lookout Presbyterian Baccalaureate college 1,600 1906 Columbia College Columbia private Master’s colleges and universities 3,000 1851 Cottey College Nevada Nonsectarian Baccalaureate college 325 1884 Culver–Stockton College Canton Disciples of Christ Baccalaureate college 821 1853 Drury University Springfield Christian Master’s colleges and universities 5,474 1873 Evangel University Springfield Assemblies of God Baccalaureate college 1,850 1955 Fontbonne University Clayton Catholic Baccalaureate college 2,950 1923 Hannibal–LaGrange University Hannibal Christian Baccalaureate college 1,150 1858 Lindenwood University St. Charles Presbyterian Master’s colleges and universities 11,421[10] 1827 Maryville University Town and Country Nonsectarian Baccalaureate college 3,600 1872 Missouri Baptist University St. Louis Evangelical Baccalaureate college 4,615 1957 Missouri Valley College Marshall Presbyterian Baccalaureate college 1,789 1889 Park University Parkville Non-denominational Master’s colleges and universities 11,013 1875 Rockhurst University Kansas City Jesuit Master’s colleges and universities 3,000 1910 Saint Louis University St. Louis Jesuit Doctoral/very high activity research university 13,784 1818 Southwest Baptist University Bolivar Baptist Baccalaureate college 3,000 1878 Stephens College Columbia private Women’s College Baccalaureate college 1,000 1833 Washington University in St. Louis St. Louis Nonsectarian Doctoral/very high activity research university 14,114 1853 Webster University Webster Groves private Master’s colleges and universities 5,000 1915 Westminster College Fulton private Baccalaureate college 1,064 1851 William Jewell College Liberty private liberal arts[11] Baccalaureate college 1,050 1849 William Woods University Fulton Disciples of Christ Baccalaureate college 3,000 1870

Associate’s (community) colleges

Public

Crowder College

East Central College

Jefferson College

Metropolitan Community College

Mineral Area College

Missouri State University–West Plains

Moberly Area Community College

North Central Missouri College

Ozarks Technical Community College

St. Charles Community College

St. Louis Community College

State Fair Community College

State Technical College of Missouri[12]

Three Rivers Community College

Private

Ranken Technical College

Theological seminaries

Assemblies of God Theological Seminary

Baptist Bible College

Central Bible College

Central Christian College of the Bible

Concordia Seminary

Covenant Theological Seminary

Eden Theological Seminary

Kenrick-Glennon Seminary

Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary

Nazarene Theological Seminary

Ozark Christian College

Saint Louis Christian College

Saint Paul School of Theology

Special focus

A. T. Still University

Kansas City Art Institute

Kansas City University of Medicine and Biosciences

Logan College of Chiropractic

St. Louis College of Pharmacy

#States and Capitals

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