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The Citizen, 1994-09-07, Page 5QArthu^Iack THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 1994. PAGE 5. We’ve had plenty of animal heroes If Cooperstown can have a baseball museum and Montreal can have a humour museum, how come there's no museum of animals? Animal heroes, I mean. We've had plenty of them. Never mind the celluloid canines like Rin Tin Tin and Lassie and King of the Royal Mounted. How about Bibs? Bibs was a Laura Secord style canary who lived in Hermitage, Tennessee in the home of an elderly lady. One day the woman took a tumble and hurt herself badly. Bibs, who was out of her cage at the time, flew out the window and down the street to a neighbour's house where he flapped and cheeped at the window until the neighbour took the hint and went to investigate. Bibs saved Old Aunt Tess's life at the cost of his own. He died from the stress of the incident. Or how about Comanche? He was a quarterhorse who fought the battle of Little Big Hom. Comanche's job was to carry one Captain Myles Keogh through the fray and he did it admirably - even though the horse took seven wounds, three of them serious. Nevertheless when the smoke cleared, only one participant wearing U.S. Cavalry colours was still standing and that was Comanche. Life got better for Comanche right after that. He became a U.S. military legend with a special army order permitting him free International Scene ~ By Raymond Canon Overreaction part of the game I happened to be in the United States when the Canadian Coast Guard seized two American Trawlers for illegal fishing of scallops off the coast of Newfoundland. For this reason I heard a great deal of screaming about the "act of Piracy" of the Canadian government and it was only when I got back to this country that I was able to hear the other side of the story. Having been working with the fishing industry for about 20 years in its efforts to develop trade, I have a slightly better understanding than most people of the facts surrounding the case. Separating the few hard facts from the multitudinous accusations and counter-accusalions, the seizure revolves around the efforts of the Canadian government to preserve what fish stocks remain off the east coast until such time as they can be built up again, when ever that time may be. One of the steps taken by our government was a law passed in 1990 that would give Ottawa the right to step in to protect fish stocks even beyond the 200 mile limit which is normally in force. The two boats seized were in this grey zone and, since the United Slates docs not recognize the Northwest Atlantic Fisheries Organization which regulates such matters, that country's fishermen obviously fell they could ignore any Canadian laws which might affect them. The two trawlers found out that this was not a wise move. What makes their case even weaker is that the United Stales docs recognize the international convention of the Law of the Sea which docs accept that each wandering at any army post, lots of parades and absolutely nobody allowed to climb on his back. Or how about Jack the porpoise? There's a nasty stretch of water called the French Pass off the coast of New Zealand. A century ago, sailors had an unusual way of negotiating the passage - they followed a porpoise who led them through the tricky reefs and currents. From 1871 until 1903, "Jack" as he was known, met and guided every boat that came. Right up until The Penguin. The Penguin was a passenger ship that appeared at French Pass in 1903. As jack set off in the lead, some drunken fool of a passenger leaned over the bow and shot him in the back. Fortunately Jack recovered and resumed his non-paying pilot's job. For the next nine years he guided every ship that appeared at the mouth of French Pass - with the exception of one. The skipper of The Penguin always knew he was on his own. There are plenty of animal heroes down through history if you just know where to look for them. As a matter of fact, I've just discovered another one - Hachiko, by name. Hachiko went some time ago to the Big Dog Kennel in the Sky, but before that Hachiko was a golden brown Akita bitch, who lived with her master in downtown Tokyo. Although she died nearly 60 years ago, Hachiko is still a hero to millions of Japanese. They line up to view her country can manage and regulate the fish stocks even beyond the 200 mile limit. The Americans also claim that this law does not apply to the scallops in question since they are not considered to, be sedentary. How they have arrived at this conclusion is something of a mystery since the Americans argue that the lobster is sedentary and it moves about with far more alacrity than any scallop could ever hope to achieve. Not surprisingly some Americans have gotten to the point of demanding that the American navy get involved or that the administration take immediate steps in the form of trade sanctions if the Canadians do not return the two boats to the United States, at once if not sooner, of course, without penalty. This demand is also interesting, since the same Americans do not feel any reluctance about imposing penalties themselves if the shoe is on the other foot. At the same time as Massachusetts Senator John Kerry was demanding trade sanctions against Canada, his government was announcing similar sanctions against Japan on certain trade matters. Furthermore, they would like to and may punish Canada for alleged excess wheal shipments to the States which are "hurting" American farmers. As if that were not enough, they still cannot get it through their heads that there is nothing wrong with Canadian soft-wood exports to the U.S. The findings have been in favour of the Canadians on three successive hearings and Washington still keeps al it. However, the Canadians are not the only ones to feel the force of the Americans' displeasure. If anything, we have gotten off lightly from Washington's point of view, if only because we do, after all, have a free taxidermied carcass in the National Museum. You can buy books, plaques, statues - even movies and CDs about Hachiko. Hachiko came by her hero status honestly. She used to walk her master - a commuting professor - to the train station every morning. Every evening when the train came back, Hachiko would be on the platform waiting. But one day in 1925, her master collapsed and died at work. That evening Hachiko waited on the platform long after the last passenger had departed and the train had gone. No master. The next evening Hachiko waited on the platform long after the last passenger had departed and the train had gone. No master. The next evening, disembarking pass­ engers saw Hachiko waiting again. And the next night. And the next. Hachiko met the train, winter and summer, rain and heat wave, every single evening for the next 10 years. Her loyalty never waivered. She never forgot. Hachiko died in 1935 and was buried beside her master. There's a statue to her at the train station where she waited for a decade for him to come home. An important statue? You bet. When the station was rebuilt and modernized in 1948, the architect had to design the station around the statue, so that it wouldn't be be disturbed. Hachiko never forgot. Neither, it seems will the Japanese people. trade agreement with the Americans which has to count for something. The ones which have incurred the greatest wrath from south of the border are the Japanese and, although the latter have been rather slow to open up their markets, there are, as in most other cases, two sides to the story. Washington has the impression that all you have to do is shout and everybody will sit up and fall into line. It didn't work with the Canadians and it is working with the Japanese even less. Both we and the Japanese have the same impression of the Americans; to them free trade really means managed trade so that they gain all the victories. In real life, as in real trade, it simply doesn't work that way. By the time you read this you may, if your window fades the south, hear other rounds of screaming from the south. One tempest brewing right now is the catch of salmon on the West Coast. We are more intent on preserving what salmon remain than apparently are the Americans and our efforts have not gone down well. It is taking a little while for all this to sink in but some unhappy mumbling has already taken place. More is sure to follow. All this makes me wonder if the Americans are a bit thin-skinned when it comes to free trade? Possibly everybody is that way only they are more so. Letter to the editor Continued from page 4 politicians claiming it is a religious right. Should we Canadians who have opened our doors to ethnic groups for years, be asked to forget our traditions? I think not. Ruth Jardin. The Short of it By Bonnie Gropp Memories of the summer of ’9,4 I remembered it as if it were 20 years ago. My distant past has always seemed a recent memory. I recall places and faces from many years ago with sometimes remarkable clarity. I can even recite several phone numbers I called before the dial numbers came into effect. Yet, what makes this so remarkable is that usually while I can dazzle old friends with the details of some past rendezvous, I can't remember what they're drinking — and I'd only just poured it an hour or so earlier. I'll walk into a room and forget why I'm there, but ask me where my desk was in Grade 11 homeroom and I'll answer immediately — front row centre. Ask me what I did yesterday and my mind reels. But I can tell you clearly how I spent my 34th birthday down to the last hour. I've been told not to be alarmed; long-term and short-term memory are two very different things. While trivialities are too inconsequential in the present, once they become a part of the past they become more important, and consequently more memorable, to a good many of us. Perhaps that is why the summer preceding the present one is always almost reverentially declared as the best ever. This is especially apparent when you're young and seasons in the sun have been few. I remember summers as a child spent at Sauble Beach. Each year I had the time of my life, yet I never found it to be indelibly etched in my mind, until the following summer. At that point for some reason the previous year took on idyllic proportions. This year, however, as I begin to approach the crest of a certain lifetime hill, for the first time the summer just experienced is the one I am looking on already with wistful nostalgia. To my mind, it has been nearly perfect, with images of a happy, healthy family, sunny days and temperatures comfortable for sleeping. We had the opportunity to enjoy a nice holiday, almost enough time to pursue our individual interests and occasions to celebrate. You can't ask for much more. Actually, the only disappointment, was the baseball strike, which proved to be a blessing in disguise because I actually spent more time playing catch, than watching someone else do it. Over the course of the past week, with one already back in college, another packing up and two resigned to back to school, I too have had to accept that another fantastic summer is inevitably coming to its conclusion. I realized how every other year, I had approached summer with high expectations and already dreading its conclusion. Every year, with childish enthusiasm, I wanted back the exuberant, carefree summers of my youth. Obviously, as they ended I was mildly disappointed. This year however I didn't, beyond the need to have my bones thawed, expect a lol of summer. I didn't really have time. With a working mother's busy schedule I took what I could of what the season offered me and had a blast. So what was so special, you ask? Probably nothing, except enjoying what was there to be enjoyed. Actually since becoming an adult, my long-term memory recalls little, beyond our family holidays, as highlights of recent past summers But for a change in the short-term I sure remember this one.