As
I remarked some days ago on my Facebook page, the presence of pet dogs in
the Falkland Islands
is a recent phenomenon – from living here in 1986-7, I can only recall a single Stanley resident
who kept a lapdog in his house. Dogs were working animals on sheep farms and,
if they couldn’t handle the job, they had no value to farmers and were often
just killed (now, fortunately, many townies adopt the surplus dogs). Cats, on the other hand, were abundant and many Islanders still
have multiple felines in the house, though some farms have eliminated them because they threaten the wildlife, particularly smaller birds.
As the photograph above suggests, dogs are gaining ground, but
Islanders have often had somewhat unconventional pets. Many Stanley households,
for instance, kept a pet lamb (which of course became a full-grown sheep) in
lieu of mowing the lawns outside their houses, and eating that lamb was
unthinkable. One, I recall, sardonically named his pet “Dinner,” but nobody
would have dreamed of eating such an animal.
At the same time, Islanders sometimes acquire even more
unconventional pets. When I was last here three years ago, my friend Nancy Poole had
adopted an orphaned Upland gosling from someone who had found it wandering in
the countryside, and she nursed it to adulthood by feeding it milk-laden bread
until such time as “Deuce” (as she christened the bird) could fend for himself
on the grass in their yard. For many years, sheep farmers considered the Upland Goose a pest that devoured
pasture rightfully destined for their lambs and ewes, and for a time local government even
paid a bounty for goose beaks.
When I first met Deuce, he was the cute little bird who
appears in the photograph above, but in the interim he’s become something else
entirely. As his intense gaze suggests, if I or anyone else other than Nancy approaches his enclosure, he resembles an angry Rottweiler – several times he’s charged me and, though
there’s a fence between us, he’s even managed to grab my jeans with his beak.
If he were loose – his wings are clipped – he would have no compunction about
continuing his attack. My malamute, unfortunately, once bit our postman in
California, but in Stanley I worry more about Deuce attacks.