therefore demonstrate that hunting, properly regulated, positively impacts wildlife populations by preventing game from exceeding the carrying capacity of their habitat areas, thus serving as a valuable adjunct to the mechanisms of natural selection and the survival of the fittest.”
“Nggkk,” Gideon said.
To his dismay, this strangled, inadvertent squawk, wholly unintentional, dropped smack into a dead spot in the presentation and was heard clear around the room. Donald, with the faintest of frowns, glanced questioningly at him and prepared to continue reading, but Kozlov interceded.
“Mr. Skeleton Detective wants say something?”
No, Gideon didn’t want to say anything, but by now his professorly instincts were beyond his control. “Well, it’s only that Donald may have made a small… a very small but nonetheless important, um, misinterpretation of the way that natural selection works.”
Donald’s pale eyes glittered behind his glasses. “Oh?”
“The thing is,” Gideon said, as delicately as he could, “in nature, natural selection works by selectively eliminating the more vulnerable-those animals that are least ‘fit’ to survive in their current environment. By removing them from the gene pool, the stronger-or I guess I should say the better-adapted-animals are more likely to reproduce, to contribute their genes, and to thus keep the species genetically strong; that is, genetically well-adapted to their environment…”
Unnoticed by Gideon, a pursed-mouthed Donald slid silently back into his seat.
“Hunting by natural predators has the same result,” Gideon went on, well-launched now. “They’re most likely to catch and kill the weak, the old, the slow, the sick, and so on. But modern human hunters, with their intelligence and technology, are a kind of super-predator that’s never been seen on earth before. They kill the strongest and ablest animals, which of course means that the less ‘fit’ animals have a relatively greater opportunity to reproduce and pass on their genes.”
“Ha-ha, that’s exactly right,” a delighted Joey Dillard cried. From the looks of him, he had had more to drink than was good for him. “What it is, is, it’s evolution in reverse.”
“Well, no, I wouldn’t exactly say that. The idea that evolution can reverse itself, while it has a certain poetic appeal…”
“I tried, I really did,” Gideon told Julie afterward, when they had come back outside to take a few turns around the ramparts, watching dusk turn to night as the sun dropped toward the sea beyond the Western Rocks, a jumble of offshore boulders that had been the end of many a seagoing vessel during winter storms, but in summer served mainly as a picturesque backdrop for the sunset-watchers who picnicked on Garrison Hill as the evening came on. Julie and Gideon could see several groups of them on the bluffs below the castle walls.
“Actually, I thought what you said was quite interesting,” Julie told him loyally. “I think everybody did. Honestly.”
“Not Pinckney.”
“No, not Donald,” Julie agreed. “But then he does tend to be a little touchy, a wee bit sensitive.”
With a predatory wife like Cheryl, Gideon thought, who wouldn’t be?
“So, what did you think of his wife?” Julie asked.
“Um… his wife?”
“Cheryl? The person sitting next to you? Certain parts of whom were more or less on top of you there for a while?”
“Oh, that Cheryl,” Gideon said, laughing. “I didn’t think you noticed.”
“I bet you noticed.”
“I did, but I hope you also observed that she didn’t get to first base with me. Why would she? I can do a whole lot better than Cheryl Pinckney.” He swung an arm around her shoulder, pulled her to him, and kissed her warmly. “Have I mentioned to you today that I’m in love with you?”
A gruff “Hey, you two, knock it off there” came from a nearby niche in the walls, where Liz was having a postprandial cigarette, its end glowing
“Nggkk,” Gideon said.
To his dismay, this strangled, inadvertent squawk, wholly unintentional, dropped smack into a dead spot in the presentation and was heard clear around the room. Donald, with the faintest of frowns, glanced questioningly at him and prepared to continue reading, but Kozlov interceded.
“Mr. Skeleton Detective wants say something?”
No, Gideon didn’t want to say anything, but by now his professorly instincts were beyond his control. “Well, it’s only that Donald may have made a small… a very small but nonetheless important, um, misinterpretation of the way that natural selection works.”
Donald’s pale eyes glittered behind his glasses. “Oh?”
“The thing is,” Gideon said, as delicately as he could, “in nature, natural selection works by selectively eliminating the more vulnerable-those animals that are least ‘fit’ to survive in their current environment. By removing them from the gene pool, the stronger-or I guess I should say the better-adapted-animals are more likely to reproduce, to contribute their genes, and to thus keep the species genetically strong; that is, genetically well-adapted to their environment…”
Unnoticed by Gideon, a pursed-mouthed Donald slid silently back into his seat.
“Hunting by natural predators has the same result,” Gideon went on, well-launched now. “They’re most likely to catch and kill the weak, the old, the slow, the sick, and so on. But modern human hunters, with their intelligence and technology, are a kind of super-predator that’s never been seen on earth before. They kill the strongest and ablest animals, which of course means that the less ‘fit’ animals have a relatively greater opportunity to reproduce and pass on their genes.”
“Ha-ha, that’s exactly right,” a delighted Joey Dillard cried. From the looks of him, he had had more to drink than was good for him. “What it is, is, it’s evolution in reverse.”
“Well, no, I wouldn’t exactly say that. The idea that evolution can reverse itself, while it has a certain poetic appeal…”
“I tried, I really did,” Gideon told Julie afterward, when they had come back outside to take a few turns around the ramparts, watching dusk turn to night as the sun dropped toward the sea beyond the Western Rocks, a jumble of offshore boulders that had been the end of many a seagoing vessel during winter storms, but in summer served mainly as a picturesque backdrop for the sunset-watchers who picnicked on Garrison Hill as the evening came on. Julie and Gideon could see several groups of them on the bluffs below the castle walls.
“Actually, I thought what you said was quite interesting,” Julie told him loyally. “I think everybody did. Honestly.”
“Not Pinckney.”
“No, not Donald,” Julie agreed. “But then he does tend to be a little touchy, a wee bit sensitive.”
With a predatory wife like Cheryl, Gideon thought, who wouldn’t be?
“So, what did you think of his wife?” Julie asked.
“Um… his wife?”
“Cheryl? The person sitting next to you? Certain parts of whom were more or less on top of you there for a while?”
“Oh, that Cheryl,” Gideon said, laughing. “I didn’t think you noticed.”
“I bet you noticed.”
“I did, but I hope you also observed that she didn’t get to first base with me. Why would she? I can do a whole lot better than Cheryl Pinckney.” He swung an arm around her shoulder, pulled her to him, and kissed her warmly. “Have I mentioned to you today that I’m in love with you?”
A gruff “Hey, you two, knock it off there” came from a nearby niche in the walls, where Liz was having a postprandial cigarette, its end glowing
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