More than 400 guinea pigs found in hoarder's Los Angeles home, says animal charity
The rescue group, Southern California Guinea Pig Rescue, is asking for the public's help adopting or fostering the animals or for donations to fund their recovery and care.
The owner of the home where the guinea pigs were found was facing eviction if she did not remove the animals from her house. A Los Angeles Animal Services coordinator emailed the SCGPR to alert them to the situation, hoping they could help.
The coordinator believed the woman had approximately 200 guinea pigs in her home, but when volunteers arrived to collect the guinea pigs they found the real number was double the coordinator's estimate.
Valerie Warren, chief executive and co-founder of SCGPR, told the Los Angeles Times that they were told the guinea pigs belonged to a previous tenant who moved out but left the animals behind.
'They just continued to breed and breed and the rest of the people in the house were just overwhelmed,' Warren, who visited the home, said.
Some of the animals were found sick, injured, dehydrated, malnourished, or dead, but many others were found alive and in need of a home and care.
The animals, which typically eat grass hay, vegetables, or animal pellets, were living primarily off of corn husks.
Animal shelters are already struggling for space. After the pandemic, many people gave up pets they'd adopted during lock down. Now, the rescue has hundreds of guinea pigs to care for — and it's taking steps to make sure they don't have any more to deal with by separating the male and female guinea pigs.
Warren said the animals could number nearly 1,000 by November if they're allowed to continue breeding.
'This is a dire situation,' she said. 'This is just a cycle that's not going to end until these guys are all taken in.'
In the meantime, it's unclear if the animals are actually going to be removed from the home. They were reportedly told that an LA Animal Services lieutenant visited the home and determined the animals were healthy and had proper food, water, and shelter — a view the SCGPR does not share.
They put out a press release asking the city to take action to protect the animals.
'We urge City officials and the animal welfare community to fully investigate this case and improve systemic response protocols. Shelter officials must be accountable if anything happens to these animals,' the group said in a press statement.
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The Guardian
4 hours ago
- The Guardian
I'm a writer from the Balkans. Why do people assume I only know about war and tragedy?
I attended an American writers' conference in Texas, just before the world plunged into Covid-19 lockdowns. Between panels and networking, I spent my time wandering around the book fair, leafing through titles and peppering publishers with questions. 'How many translated works are in your catalogues? How do you discover authors from outside the US? And how do you evaluate the quality of writing in languages you don't speak?' I wasn't just curious – I was on a mission. I wanted to know what kind of work appealed to American publishers and whether mine might catch their interest. I didn't bother hiding my ambition. One response has stayed with me, lodged in my mind like a spore. It came from a representative of one of the largest US publishing houses. After I explained where I was from, using buzzwords like 'former Yugoslavia's northern republic' and 'not a war zone at the moment', he offered this piece of advice: 'Think about stories and themes specific to your culture and the history of the place.' 'So,' I ventured, 'not a story about, say, a woman who leaves her career in finance, divorces her husband, and becomes a potter?' 'Well, if that story also explored your cultural or historical issues, then yes.' I felt a prick of annoyance but thanked him politely and walked away. A coffee and cigarette suddenly felt essential. In the years since, I've come to understand why his words irritated me so much. They exposed a pattern – one that still frustrates me. For authors from the Balkans, and other European nations and countries worldwide whose history and culture are a mystery to North Americans, the road to being translated into English and published by US or British publishers often depends on meeting one unspoken condition: our work must present our region's political or cultural context, or at least draw from pivotal historic events. To succeed, it must have explanatory or illustrative value – ideally with a dash of didacticism. 'American readers need to learn about the place,' the publisher had said. At first glance, this expectation seems benign – reasonable, even. After all, authors everywhere, including those from the Balkans, reflect on their immediate political and cultural surroundings. Literature has always been a medium for mirroring, analysing and critiquing society. But the deeper implication of this expectation is more troubling. It rests on a tacit belief that the Balkans is a lesser place – a region forever simmering with potential for tragedy. As the publisher candidly put it: 'Tackling something culturally or historically problematic – or better, traumatic – would be of interest.' By 'traumatic', was he imagining the atrocities of the second world war or the Yugoslav wars? Was he picturing a region mired in poverty, inequality and patriarchal traditions? Perhaps he assumed Balkan societies are uniquely prone to violence or sadness. Maybe he hoped for stories of post-socialist disillusionment, perpetuating the notion that we're still processing the 'trauma' of Yugoslav socialism. I can't say for sure. What I do know is this: he wouldn't have been interested in a Balkan version of My Year of Rest and Relaxation. A novel about a protagonist from the Balkans who's simply exhausted by capitalism, self-absorbed, angry or morally ambiguous would fail to tick the right boxes. Sadly for him, he probably would have glossed over the hybrid novel by Slovenian writer Nataša Kramberger, who took over a farm in Slovenian Styria, after moving back from Berlin. And I suspect he wouldn't care much for the short stories of the Croatian Luiza Bouharaoua, which paint the angst and joys of millennials, albeit in the colours of the Adriatic. Nor for the poetry of the North Macedonian poet Kalia Dimitrova, who likes to refer to Capri and Berlin but seldom to Skopje. For a work by a Balkan author to succeed, its protagonist must be a victim – a clear and unambiguous one. Publishers prefer stories that elicit compassion, moral indignation, heartbreak or, ideally, all three. In short, we Balkan writers are expected to approach universal themes – grief, alienation, love, loss – through a narrowly regional lens. And that lens must include a self-exoticising twist. To be clear, the Balkans is a specific region with unique cultural, political and historical complexities. Writers from this part of the world have much to say about these, and many do so brilliantly. But if translations into English are meant to expand knowledge about 'that Balkan place', publishers must be willing to engage with stories that challenge established perceptions. The question isn't whether Balkan writers should reflect their context. We often do, naturally. The question is whether publishers will listen to the diversity of voices emerging from the region – or if they'll keep privileging narratives that neatly reinforce their assumptions. After all, there's much more to the Balkans than trauma, tragedy or tales tailored to teach. There are also just exceptionally written stories about women who once worked in finance, left their husbands and opened a pottery business. Some North American and UK publishers have already supported such stories fully – hence Georgi Gospodinov's International Booker award – and have thereby fulfilled the mission to bring voices from diverse corners of the world to a global audience, not as ambassadors of their geography but as storytellers in their own right. But many more have yet to do so. Ana Schnabl is a Slovenian novelist, editor and critic
Reuters
8 hours ago
- Reuters
FAA investigating SkyWest jet's near miss with B-52 bomber over North Dakota
WASHINGTON, July 21 (Reuters) - The Federal Aviation Administration said on Monday it is investigating a near miss between a SkyWest Airlines (SKYW.O), opens new tab jet and a U.S. Air Force jet over North Dakota last week. SkyWest Flight 3788, an Embraer ERJ-175 operating as a Delta Connection (DAL.N), opens new tab flight from Minneapolis to Minot, North Dakota, landed safely in Minot on Friday after performing a go-around during its landing approach when another plane became visible in its flight path, SkyWest said. The Air Force confirmed a B-52 aircraft assigned to Minot Air Force Base conducted a flyover of the North Dakota State Fair on Friday. "We are currently looking into the matter," the Air Force said. The SkyWest pilot reportedly said the incident caught him by surprise, prompting him to make an aggressive move to avoid a possible collision, according to a video recording posted by a passenger on social media. SkyWest did not immediately comment on the video or confirm its accuracy. Representative Betty McCollum, a Minnesota Democrat, said she was highly concerned with the incident. "The incident in Minot raises serious questions about passenger safety," McCollum said. "Given the Department of Defense training that takes place in the surrounding area, Minot International Airport must also immediately receive and install radar technology to have a full accounting of all local air traffic." The FAA noted that air traffic services were provided by the Minot air traffic control tower, which is run by a private company and not FAA employees. The National Transportation Safety Board and FAA are investigating another close call involving a Delta jet and a group of Air Force jets near Reagan Washington National Airport on March 28. The jet in that incident, a Delta Airbus A319, received a cockpit collision warning alert that another aircraft was nearby, and controllers issued corrective instructions to the Delta plane and one of the military jets. The Delta plane had been cleared to depart as four Air Force T-38 Talons were heading to nearby Arlington National Cemetery for a flyover. The NTSB said in a preliminary report there had been confusion about when controllers were to halt traffic during the flyover. There has been intense focus on military traffic near civilian airplanes since an Army helicopter collided with an American Airlines (AAL.O), opens new tab regional jet on January 29 near Reagan National, killing 67 people. In early May the FAA barred Army helicopter flights around the Pentagon after another near miss.
The Guardian
12 hours ago
- The Guardian
How do airports try to prevent bird collisions? It's a never-ending job
My tone wavered between enthusiasm and concern. 'Is that a great black-backed gull,' I asked. It was a cold December morning, and I was cruising along the interior roads of Boston's Logan international airport in a white pickup truck. At the wheel was Jeff Turner, who, among other duties, oversees efforts to control wildlife at the airport, including making sure that errant gulls and other birds don't stray into flight paths and cause an accident. He glanced toward the harbor and confirmed that a lone great black-backed was indeed mixed in with a few herring gulls. There is nothing remarkable about spotting this species on the shorelines of Boston. But it sure is fun to gawk at them. They're gluttonous omnivores that will devour rats, rabbits and rotting garbage, and they can be obnoxiously loud and territorial. They're also enormous: the largest of all gull species with wingspans that top out at 5.5ft (1.7 metres), a feathered Goliath that no pilot wants to see perched near a runway. We spent a moment admiring it while commercial flights taxied behind us and roared overhead. 'When you see one sitting next to a herring gull, it's crazy just how much bigger it is,' Turner said. 'Surprisingly, we don't see a lot of black-backed strikes. The majority of our gull strikes are herring gulls.' With that, he parked the truck, walked over to a silver-barreled air cannon set up on a small platform in a patch of grass, and let it rip. The whompfff of the blast made me flinch and sent the gulls scattering. We got back in the truck and rolled onward, looking for more loitering birds to harass. Every day, birds and airplanes collide. The Federal Aviation Administration recorded approximately 19,000 such incidents across nearly 800 US airports in 2023. In total, those strikes cost airlines an estimated $461m. The issue has been in the headlines in recent months following a string of high-profile bird strikes. Korean officials found the remains of Baikal teals in both engines of the Jeju Air flight that crashed in December and killed 179 people (the extent to which the animals contributed to the crash remains under investigation). In February of this year, a hawk obliterated the nose of an Airbus A320 in Brazil. Then in March, a FedEx cargo plane made a fiery emergency landing in Newark, New Jersey, after one of its engines ingested a bird and started spewing flames. Two weeks later, a bird rocketed through the windscreen of a private airplane in California, injuring the passenger and precipitating another emergency landing. Turner's team, which includes five technicians and a contracted United States Department of Agriculture wildlife biologist, is responsible for minimizing the likelihood of such calamities at Logan. They use pyrotechnics and air cannons to scare away birds and do whatever they can to make the landscape as unappealing as possible – be it cutting the grass, draining standing water or ripping up berry-bearing bushes that might attract flocks of peckish blackbirds. When all else fails, the technicians have shotguns in their trucks. 'We always go heavy on harassment,' Turner explained. 'And then the last resort is lethal.' The goal, after all, isn't to kill birds. It's to keep them away from airplanes. That's a daunting task at Logan, where an average of 1,200 flights come and go each day. The airport sprawls across 2,400 acres (971 hectares) with water on three sides. During spring and fall migration, managing birds here is like defending against swarm warfare. 'The fact that we're surrounded by water is a huge challenge … If you're [a bird] flying down the coastline and you see this,' Turner said, gesturing to long stretches of grass on one side and the shallows of Boston harbor on the other, 'it's a whole different habitat.' Turner has worked at Logan since 2010. The most unexpected animal encounter during that time was with a ticked-off otter whose powerful bite left 'five or six holes in my hand', he said. Coyotes make occasional appearances in the winter, as do snowy owls, for which Turner depends on a skilled volunteer who carefully traps and relocates them. On a few occasions, deer have turned up near the runways: 'The most incredible part,' Turner said, is that the deer swam to the airport from the surrounding harbor islands. A breezy conversationalist, Turner's eyes never stopped scanning the perimeter of the airport. He pointed out brants, common eiders, a merlin, and bucket loads of gulls. As we drove on, we saw Canada geese congregating near the water and a few dozen European starlings zipping around further inland. Canada geese are famously associated with bird strikes thanks to the heroics of Capt Chesley 'Sully' Sullenberger, who in January 2009 safely landed an Airbus A320 on the Hudson river after hitting a flock of geese in what's been dubbed the 'Miracle on the Hudson'. But European starlings can be every bit as dangerous. 'They just undulate everywhere and when you harass them they split and come back together,' Turner said. Starling murmurations are such a threat that Turner's team erected a trap made of wood and chicken wire with a one-way entry point at the top and food and water below. Pity the technicians who have to 'dispatch' the trapped birds by snapping their necks. If that sounds grim, it may help to consider the tragic history of European starlings at Logan. For several years prior to meeting Turner, I had been researching a book on Roxie Laybourne, a scientist who pioneered the field of forensic ornithology while working at the Smithsonian's National Museum of Natural History. Her career took an unusual turn on 4 October 1960, when a flight taking off from Logan hit an enormous flock of birds and crashed into the water, killing 62 people. It was unprecedented and terrifying. Investigators needed to know the type of bird that caused the crash, so they sent some of the remains down to the Smithsonian. Laybourne and her boss sorted through the pieces and found enough feathers to confirm that starlings were to blame. In the following years, bird strikes caused more fatal airplane crashes: in 1962, tundra swans downed a commercial flight over Maryland, killing all 17 people on board; and in 1964, astronaut Theodore Freeman died after his training jet careened into a flock of snow geese near Houston. To establish new safety standards, engineers and regulators needed to know what types of birds were being hit most frequently and how much those birds weighed, so they turned to Laybourne for help. Using her microscope and the Smithsonian's vast collection of research specimens, she developed ways of identifying birds by analyzing the microscopic structures of feathers. She went on to apply her skills to criminal investigations, including murder and poaching cases, but more than anything focused on aviation, identifying the remains of more than 10,000 airplane-struck birds. Nowadays, most airlines voluntarily report bird strikes and send the splattered animal bits they recover to the Smithsonian's Feather Identification Lab, run by Carla Dove, who trained under Laybourne. The lab works with the FAA, the US air force and the US navy, and identified more than 11,000 bird-strike remains last year, dozens of which of which were collected in Boston. Most bird strikes cause no damage whatsoever. But every once in a while, things go awfully wrong and that's what keeps Turner on his toes. His job is a never-ending, always-evolving risk-benefit analysis in which mundane tasks such as trimming the grass can be a catch-22. Whenever the mowers go out in the summer, he explained, huge amounts of barn swallows come swooping in for the buffet of insects that get kicked up in the process. 'We don't want the bird strikes, but we gotta cut the grass,' he added, playing up the damned-if-you-do nature of it all. In this line of work, even the most well-intentioned actions can have undesirable consequences. He offered up the example of Boston harbor, once one of the most polluted harbors in the country. After decades of clean-up efforts and programs to reduce sewage overflows, the water is swimmable and it's a legitimate environmental success story. While Turner loves seeing such progress, the wildlife manager in him laments the fact that better water quality means more productive shellfish beds, which in turn means more gulls. 'The gulls have adapted to it,' he said, pointing to shards of oyster shells on the side of the road. 'They're taking them out at low tide, dropping them on the pavement or on the runways, and cracking the shells open to have a nice little feast. It's a pain.' With air traffic increasing at Logan and pretty much everywhere else, Turner is a realist who knows that bird strikes are a problem that cannot be stopped, only mitigated. 'It's inevitable that something's going to happen,' he said. 'And we just do everything we can do to make sure it's not going to be one of those catastrophic strikes.' Chris Sweeney is the author of The Feather Detective: Mystery, Mayhem, and the Magnificent Life of Roxie Laybourne, coming 22 July from Avid Reader Press, an imprint of Simon & Schuster
