Both Kent and Sussex counties are small parts of the Chesapeake Bay watershed, which means the following story has at least a far-fetched connection with Delaware.
Years ago I had heard of black cats being raised on Poplar Island, at one time an island of some size in Talbot County on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. Poplar Island had 1,000 acres and boasted a schoolhouse/church, a general store and a post office. In the 1880s the three islands making up the Poplar Islands group had a population of 70 to 100 people, according to a book called “Poplar Island,” published in 1966 by Peter K. Bailey, who had lived on Poplar Island with his family before severe erosion reduced the three islands to small bits of land.
(Poplar Island is now being restored with spoil from the dredging of the Baltimore Harbor.)
In reading his book last weekend, I learned the details of the black cat story.
It happened that Charles Carroll, a grandson of the signer of the Declaration of Independence, owned Poplar Island in the 1840s. He had learned that there was a market in China for fur from black cats, so he figured that the island would be a good place to raise them.
Following through on the idea, he had an agent advertise he would pay 25 cents apiece for black cats. In time he got them all together and put them on the island. He already had all the tomcats he needed and figured there would soon be black cats all over the place.
The enterprise was called the Great Poplar Island Black Cat Fur Farm.
But Mother Nature didn’t see it that way. During the following 1847-48 winter it was so cold that the bay froze over between the island and the mainland. And what did the cats do? They took advantage of the opportunity to scamper off the island and head for home!
Something similar happened in Talbot County several decades ago when a member of Delaware’s DuPont family, who had a love of fox hunting, thought he had found the perfect way to assure foxes always would be available for his favorite sport.
He didn’t buy an island but he did buy the next best thing — he acquired a long and narrow peninsula. Then he put a stout fence across the peninsula’s end, even going to the trouble of having the fence built a few feet into the ground to prevent foxes from digging escape holes.
But again it was Mother Nature who intervened. Another very cold winter came along and the water froze on the peninsula’s three sides. Away skipped the foxes.
If Mr. DuPont had checked Talbot County history he might have learned something from the fate of the black cats caper a century earlier.
*****
One topic that candidates for office in Delaware are unlikely to mention is the dire need for sensible and fair rewriting of election district boundaries once the figures from the 2010 federal census become available.
What has happened every 10 years is that the people in the General Assembly who make new boundary decisions that are based on the changes in population location, do so to protect those already in office. Both parties do it. Self-preservation is the order of the day.
Not affected are candidates running statewide, of course. But each of the 41 office-holders in the House seats and each of the senators in the 21 Senate seats definitely is affected. So are Levy Court and County Council members.
But the General Assembly members make the decisions. They should hand over the responsibility to a carefully selected and balanced committee of non-elected citizens. It could and should be done.
*****
“Are you a lawyer?”
“Yes?”
“How much do you charge?”
“Two hundred dollars for four questions.”
“Isn’t that awfully expensive?”
“Yes. And what is your fourth question?”
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Both Kent and Sussex counties are small parts of the Chesapeake Bay watershed, which means the following story has at least a far-fetched connection with Delaware.
Years ago I had heard of black cats being raised on Poplar Island, at one time an island of some size in Talbot County on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. Poplar Island had 1,000 acres and boasted a schoolhouse/church, a general store and a post office. In the 1880s the three islands making up the Poplar Islands group had a population of 70 to 100 people, according to a book called “Poplar Island,” published in 1966 by Peter K. Bailey, who had lived on Poplar Island with his family before severe erosion reduced the three islands to small bits of land.
(Poplar Island is now being restored with spoil from the dredging of the Baltimore Harbor.)
In reading his book last weekend, I learned the details of the black cat story.
It happened that Charles Carroll, a grandson of the signer of the Declaration of Independence, owned Poplar Island in the 1840s. He had learned that there was a market in China for fur from black cats, so he figured that the island would be a good place to raise them.
Following through on the idea, he had an agent advertise he would pay 25 cents apiece for black cats. In time he got them all together and put them on the island. He already had all the tomcats he needed and figured there would soon be black cats all over the place.
The enterprise was called the Great Poplar Island Black Cat Fur Farm.
But Mother Nature didn’t see it that way. During the following 1847-48 winter it was so cold that the bay froze over between the island and the mainland. And what did the cats do? They took advantage of the opportunity to scamper off the island and head for home!
Something similar happened in Talbot County several decades ago when a member of Delaware’s DuPont family, who had a love of fox hunting, thought he had found the perfect way to assure foxes always would be available for his favorite sport.
He didn’t buy an island but he did buy the next best thing — he acquired a long and narrow peninsula. Then he put a stout fence across the peninsula’s end, even going to the trouble of having the fence built a few feet into the ground to prevent foxes from digging escape holes.
But again it was Mother Nature who intervened. Another very cold winter came along and the water froze on the peninsula’s three sides. Away skipped the foxes.
If Mr. DuPont had checked Talbot County history he might have learned something from the fate of the black cats caper a century earlier.
*****
One topic that candidates for office in Delaware are unlikely to mention is the dire need for sensible and fair rewriting of election district boundaries once the figures from the 2010 federal census become available.
What has happened every 10 years is that the people in the General Assembly who make new boundary decisions that are based on the changes in population location, do so to protect those already in office. Both parties do it. Self-preservation is the order of the day.
Not affected are candidates running statewide, of course. But each of the 41 office-holders in the House seats and each of the senators in the 21 Senate seats definitely is affected. So are Levy Court and County Council members.
But the General Assembly members make the decisions. They should hand over the responsibility to a carefully selected and balanced committee of non-elected citizens. It could and should be done.
*****
“Are you a lawyer?”
“Yes?”
“How much do you charge?”
“Two hundred dollars for four questions.”
“Isn’t that awfully expensive?”
“Yes. And what is your fourth question?”
