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How many species have gone extinct on our watch?

I have no idea, but given that we maintain an endangered species list, the answer has to be greater than zero. 

I know us — we would never proactively start a list like that. 

Some species just can’t hang with our global redecorating. We actually “Murica’ed” so hard over here that we almost killed off our quintessential symbol of freedom.

DDT for all, and for all a mosquito-free night. Also no more bald eagles. Whoops!

At least we got our act together and they are on the rebound. 

Yay us!

Hero syndrome once more, as humans valiantly save other species from the disastrous fate originally inflicted on them by their saviors.

Similarly, we perceive ourselves winning the Darwin games thanks to our advancement, but we unfortunately misunderstand the rules. We cluelessly pursue superiority in a game that rewards balance.

We’re celebrating a high score of 150 without realizing we’re inexplicably on a damn golf course again, and should have as low a score as possible. 

I am getting ahead of myself slightly, but based on this book title I’m clearly betting on a new claim to fame for our species: causing our own extinction. 

Not exactly something I can write down after the fact, so you [maybe] heard it here first!

A seemingly outlandish claim until you recall that nuclear weapons count from earlier.

Our hunt for all things Exotic

Back to all those exotic earth-neighbors of ours and some fun terminology: poaching.

I can poach an egg, but if I’m a poacher, I’m not an egg chef.

I can also poach top talent from the competition, but if I’m a poacher, I’m not a highly-skilled recruiter either.

If I’m a poacher, I’m a killer of an exotic animal for fun or profit. 

Whether the end goal is to harvest all or part of their bodies, we seem to like hunting them in particular, and on our quest to acquire what our human species has inexplicably deemed desirable, we drive them to the point of extinction.

Elephant tusks and rhino horns, weird shit like that. 

Why? 

I have no clue.

Growing up, I vaguely recall my home having some sort of elephant tusk thingy on our wall for some reason, and I was afraid to ask my father about it. His answer to my question about our family origins was to tell me we’re English because our name appears on the cover of an English dictionary, so I feared the preposterous answer he would give me for why we prominently displayed that trophy in our den.

While I cannot explain any of these hunting decisions, I actually encourage you to go for it. Keep killing for sport!

Just do it with your bare hands. 

No pistols or rifles.

No spears or bows.

No nets or snares. 

Go punch a lion in the fucking face and let me know how that goes for you.

In some cases we’ll shamelessly strip these animals of their defense mechanisms and pat ourselves on the back because we were humane and didn’t kill the animal, as if that creature is now somehow better off thanks to our interference.

That animal simply forgot about the endowed but also self-granted right of humans to help themselves to the bodies of inferior species, rendering them defenseless, docile, and helpless.

Returning from the savannah, consider a few examples closer to home, like how we de-claw cats, trim the beaks and wings of birds, and castrate oxen. We constantly remove natural parts of animals and make them defenseless.

Story of our lives.

Imagine the furor humans would raise if we forcefully removed their unalienable right to self-defense.

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