The Bayou Hippopotamus

Few ecologists will disagree that there are often problems that stem from introducing a new species into an environment. If the species succeeds in breeding in that new environment, the results are not always immediate, but they’re certainly felt before too long. In 1910, the introduction of a new species was proposed for the Louisiana bayou which, had it been successful, would have been all too easy to notice, had it started breeding successfully. That species was the hippopotamus, a creature that is very hard to miss.

Hippopotamus in hyacinth, Kenya

In the early 20th century, with its population growing nationwide and immigrants flooding into the large cities of the East Coast, America saw the beginning of a meat crisis. Supply of beef out West was consistent, but demand was just growing too fast to keep up. Meat was getting expensive, and it looked like we’d soon run out of room to raise cattle on.

Congressman Robert Broussard (D-LA) came up with a plan to take care of this. In his state of Louisiana, there was a lot of swampland that wasn’t much good for farming or ranching or any kind of agriculture. His idea was to import hippopotamus from Africa, who live in swamps there, and introduce them to Louisiana. The hippopotamus would then be ranched on the bayou, since the large animals would provide plenty of meat. As a bonus, since Louisiana had a problem with the hyacinth, an invasive plant that was spreading all over the state, the hippopotamus would take care of that problem by eating them. Two birds, one large stone!

To pull this off, Rep. Broussard enlisted the help of Frederick Russell Burnham, a popular naturalist of the day who was active in founding the Boy Scouts of America, and whose squeaky-clean moral character made him something of a Boy Scout, himself. Burnham had been involved in British Africa, since he was very much in tune with the contemporary notion that it was up to us Westerners to bring civilization to the rest of the world. He also enlisted a one Fritz Duquesne, a Boer who had fought against the British in the Boer War, and who was a pretty savvy con man—sort of the perfect opposite to Burnham’s sterling character.

Left: Frederick Russell Burnham on his boat Dixie III (1911). Right: Fritz Duquesne posing with a white rhinoceros he killed, courtesy of Field & Stream magazine (1909).

It was up to Burnham and Duquesne, two men who had spent a lot of time in Africa, to figure out how to get the hippos to Louisiana. They had to figure out how to capture them, ship them, ranch them, breed them and slaughter them. Rep. Broussard did his bit, passing hippo jerky around Congress in order to drum up support. He introduced a bill in the House requesting $250,000 for “the importation of useful new animals into the United States”. Burnham and Duquesne founded the New Food Supply Society, which had the sole purpose of hitting up rich people for donations to their project of importing hippos to America.

Broussard and the New Food Supply Society assured the Washington Post that the United States would have lots of hippo meat within just a few years. But the rich donors weren’t so forthcoming with funds, and Broussard had a tough time convincing Congress that this plan was worthwhile. In the end, the whole enterprise fizzled out, and no hippopotamuses ever made it to Louisiana.

Congressman Robert Broussard (D-LA), whose brainchild was the Louisiana hippo meat plan.

But what about that meat shortage we faced a hundred years ago? It didn’t just go away, did it? Well… yes. It was around this time that ranchers hit upon a different solution. They figured out a way to intensify beef production. To accomplish this they converted lots of land to pasture, so they could simply raise more cattle. And improved distribution of freight thanks to the new US Highway system and improved railroad infrastructure made it cheaper to ship feed corn around the country, so ranchers didn’t have to depend so much on finding good grazing land. The meat crisis fizzled along with the hippo meat plan, because we were able to produce so much more meat.

Still, it’s interesting to think about what an American South with a healthy hippo population would be like. Louisiana’s environment would have a bigger problem than mere hyacinth invasion—literally.

How the Lemon was Invented

Lemons How do you make a lemon? Silly question, isn’t it? You just take the seeds out of one and plant them, and wait for the tree to come up, right? That’s true, but it hasn’t always been that easy. Lemons today are a widely cultivated citrus fruit, with a flavor used in cuisines of countries where no lemon tree would ever grow. You might think that it was just a matter of ancient peoples finding the trees, enjoying their fruit and growing more of them, but that’s not true. The lemon is a human invention that’s maybe only a few thousand years old. The first lemons came from East Asia, possibly southern China or Burma. (These days, some prefer to refer to Burma as Myanmar . I’ll try to stay out of that controversy here and stick to fruit.) The exact date of the lemon’s first cultivation is not known, but scientists figure it’s been around for more than 4,000 years. The lemon is a cross breed of several fruits. One fruit is the bitter orange, best known in the west for

Origins of the Word Hoser, eh?

Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas as cultural icons Bob and Doug McKenzie These days we often hear Canadians referred to as “Hosers”. It’s a strange word, and it sounds a little insulting, but it’s sometimes used more with affection than malice. Any such word is difficult to use correctly, especially if you don’t belong to the group the word describes. I can’t say I feel comfortable throwing the word around, myself, but I can offer a little information about it that might shed some light on what it means. First off: is it an insult? Yes… and no. The word hoser can be used as an insult or as a term of endearment; the variation hosehead , is certainly an insult. It’s a mild insult, meaning something like jerk or idiot or loser . Its origin is unclear, and there are several debatable etymologies of the word. One claims that it comes from the days before the zamboni was invented, when the losing team of an outdoor ice hockey game would have to hose down the rink in or

The Whoopie Cap

What can you do with your father’s old hats? If you were born after, say, 1955, the answer is probably “Not much.” Men were still wearing fedoras in the 1970s and 1980s, but by 1990, fashion had turned to the point where unless you were Indiana Jones, the hat didn’t look right. Some blame Jack Kennedy for starting it all, strutting around perfectly coiffed and bare-headed in the early 1960s. In 1953, Harry Truman, a haberdasher by trade, stepped out of office, and just eight years later we had a president who didn’t care for hats? The times, they were a-changin’. If you set the WABAC machine to the 1920s or 1930s (when Indiana Jones was supposed to have lived), you would see the fedora was still very much in style. Men just didn’t leave the house without a hat of some kind, and for what remained of the middle class, the fedora was the topper of choice. But like any other piece of clothing, hats wear out, too. When that happened, you’d just throw it away. Though if there were

Search This Blog