the moose goes to court

“I can make it. Thank you, but I don’t need your help.”

Between cases, Sarah Davies was enjoying a smoke break as the moose very slowly climbed the cement stairs of her courthouse. Almost twenty people were running around him with cameras and microphones.

“Please, I insist,” said a woman with a news microphone. “At least let me take your briefcase.”

“Thank you, I can manage.”

“Do you feel that the judge will listen to you this time?” A man from an American news channel spoke through a camera lens.

“My case has merit. If the court is just, I will be allowed to speak.”

“What does your wife think about the allegations? E! is reporting that you have begun a trial separation.”

“Were you at the hotel, sir? Honesty can only help your case at this point.”

“I won’t comment on gossip in the tabloids,” the moose said. “These allegations of numerous girlfriends and multiple families is slander propagated by my opponents. Maria and I have never lived together, so we don’t understand what you mean by trial separation.”

“Don’t you want to see your children?”

“Not really, no.”

The reporters murmured among themselves as cameras streamed a hectic scramble of arms and faces to the world.

“Why are you so determined?”

“You’re after the fame?”

“It’s clear to everyone that your opponents are going to win this case. You’re just wasting everyone’s time.”

The moose stopped and turned to the crowd of reporters on the stairs below him. He stood proudly, his left front leg on the top stair of the courthouse and paused before speaking.

“No. Not because of the fame. Because we are being wronged.”

A young boy looked over the shoulder of the moose and saw a Canadian flag waving in the wind. The moment inspired him deeply until he saw that the flag was printed on a garbage bag which had been caught around part of the metal fencing which surrounded the part of the courthouse which was under construction. The torn plastic fell awkwardly against the wind. It’s always under construction, the boy thought before thinking about dump trucks.

The moose turned away from the reporters and continued into the courthouse. He did not want to respond to any more of their questions.

“What was Oprah like in real life? Did you swim in her pool?”

“Are you and Branson really going into space with one of the Kardashians?” 
“I heard you’re going with Irena Shayk.”

“We aren’t wasting time with models in orbit around the planet, that’s for sure,” the moose said, watching his hooves on the steps while he carefully tested his stability. “Richard is determined that this mission is an integral component in the development of the cancer fighting gene therapy which his team is working on.”

“Have you repaid the damages caused to the hotel bar?” 
“Was she worth it?”

“Who are you wearing?”

Sarah Davies felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She pulled it out and read the text on the screen. Is he there yet? She put the phone back in her pocket, finished her cigarette, sighed, and returned to her desk inside the courtroom.

“Please have a seat,” the court bailiff pointed to the chairs arranged behind a wooden table.

“I am not able to sit down,” the moose said.

“Sir, You will have to sit through the proceedings. When the judge asks you to stand, you will stand. Failure to comply means that you will be in contempt and I will have to arrest you. I’ll tell you right now though, after what I’ve heard about you I want to arrest you.”

“No, you don’t understand. I am unable to sit down. If I lay on the ground you will probably think me undignified, and the judge will not be able to see my head over the table.”

“My dog can sit.”

“I am not your dog.”

“You certainly are not. Scruples would never be found in contempt. You, on the other hand, are already in my bad books. One word from the man on the bench, and out come the cuffs! You can trust me on that one.”

“If I were to tell the court when I am sitting and when I am standing, will that do?”
“Fine. Do you as you like. We’ll let the judge decide.” The bailiff walked over to his

post and stood against the wall facing the middle of the courtroom.

The moose surveyed the area where he was expected to give his deposition. Three cameras and twelve microphones on a desk. He was used to that. What he wasn’t used to was the fact that he would have to move the chairs out of the way in order to reach the media. Such details were usually handled by his manager, but the moose could not see that lazy bastard anywhere in the courtroom.

Richard’s probably doing blow right now off that harlot Mandy’s tits, that’s what, the moose thought and then he thought about Mandy’s breasts for a while. That’s hot. But, she’s been trouble since Atlanta. I would have dumped their asses a long time ago if I didn’t need their contacts.

The moose moved the two chairs into the aisle between his desk and that of the legal council for the provincial government. His glance toward the lawyer for the Ministry of Transportation may have appeared to the people in the gallery as being sidelong, but it was not. He stood in the area vacated by the chairs and faced into the largest camera. Men in the gallery behind him were speaking to each other.

“If the judge allows this case to proceed, we’re going to have to take this into our own hands. You know what I mean, Robert.”
“Yeah, I know. My guys are ready.”

“This stupid thing wouldn’t have even got this far if the moose had to do this in French. According to provincial legislation, he should have to do this in both languages.” 

The moose watched the people stir around him for a few minutes. Everyone in the room except for the two bailiffs were talking amongst themselves. After a few minutes, he glanced around a bit nervously before speaking to the room.

“I am sitting down now,” the moose said while remaining standing. The people around him stopped whispering to each other and turned their attention to the front of the courtroom.

Sarah Davies began typing at her desk. Her job was to record every word spoken in the courtroom by people of importance to the case. Most often she handled depositions, such as this one. She wrote so much for her job that she was the only one among her friends who did not blog or network socially. Her friends often blogged about that.

The bailiff cleared his throat. “All rise as His Right Honourable Charles Henry Galbraithe enters the chambers.”

Everyone in the room stood up and went silent.

“I am now standing,” the moose said and remained standing.

A tall man with grey hair and fat jowls walked from a door which opened on the far side of the room. He walked briskly and his black robes continually tripped him as he moved to his bench and sat down. The moose wondered why the man with the most power was the one who least able to run away should anything important happen.

“Please be seated,” the bailiff said. Everyone in the room sat down and remained silent.

“I am seated now,” said the moose. He saw that the bailiff was looking him over very sternly.

“Indeed,” the judge did not lift his eyes from the files in front of him as he spoke. He opened a file on his desk and read for nearly a minute while writing sporadically on both the file itself and a notepad beside it. After it appeared that he had finished reading, he chuckled to himself and wrote a long joke about two priests, a rabbi, an asthmatic duck on assisted living benefits, and a Mogen Clamp in pen on the back of his right hand. “Well, this will be fun,” he finally said. “Whenever you are ready, please begin your deposition. You have three minutes.”

With some minor difficulty the moose opened his briefcase and shuffled through his notes.

“Your honour, I am here today as a spokes– ah, to speak representing the plaintiffs in

the lawsuit first brought against the provincial government of Newfoundland and Labrador back in January of 2011. The appeal brought before you today is a response to the Superior Court’s decision. I was among many of them when the decision was announced and witnessed their outrage and disappointment.”

The moose leaned into the microphones to ensure that he would be heard by everyone.

“When the Court ruled in favour of the government in the case brought forward by the Right to a Safe Life for Moose action group – many of whose members are included in the group for which I have been entrusted to speak – some of the younger brethren among my community wanted blood. They felt that the legal system had abandoned them. More accurately, our case was never seriously considered by the justice system available to us at the time. We lost because we were not recognized. And this was after so many people in both the provincial courts and the news media had made heartfelt assurances about that fact not being true.”

“Nonsense,” said a woman who was seated in the gallery, provoking a great deal of

 casual murmuring.

“Despite the loss,” the moose continued, undeterred. “The RSLM was able to join efforts with numerous other groups to regroup and launch this present appeal. Over the past few weeks, you have heard from our legal experts on the matter. While it is true that I acted as one of the principle consultants for the team, I am not here to go over their arguments again, as they are already a matter of court record.”

The moose paused for a second and looked at Sarah Davies. She sighed to herself, looked down at her computer keyboard, and pretended to type something important when he winked at her in an exceptionally unsurreptitious way.

“I am here to personalize our cause. With great effort, I was able to learn your language–”

“Ha! Tu es drôle. C’est une blague, oui?” said a man in the gallery.

“–and your methods and system of justice. I felt that it was important for me to learn your ways so that I may participate in your system.”

Noise from members of the gallery rose to a loud chant and the judge silenced them by snapping his finger in the air repeatedly.

“Alright, alright,” the judge said loudly. “Enough with that. Moose, you have a minute left.”

“Your honour, I am now standing,” said the moose and remained standing. 
“Careful,” the judge said and glanced at the bailiff, whose smile did not seem to bother trying to mitigate his anger.

“I’m sorry, your Honour. I’ll sit back down. I am now seated,” the moose said and remained standing. “I deny that you can limit my time here. First of all, the RSLM wishes to bring to the court’s attention several problems as current exist with the legislation. Section four reads, and I quote, the holder of a big game licence to hunt, take or kill female only animals shall, upon request of a wildlife officer, produce the head of the animal.”

“Yes, what is your specific problem with the legislation?” the judge did not lift his eyes from the newspaper in his lap.

“Certainly good relations between neighbours cannot be maintained when legislation of such a barbaric nature is enacted.”

“I really don’t see the problem here. Moose have not been granted rights other than presented by this legislation.”

“Nearly everyone in my community feels that we have a right to live and walk among the rural areas of Newfoundland proper.”

The judge rolled up the sleeve of his robe and looked at his watch. His pen fell from his

hand and off the desk and his spine made an audible crack when he bent over to retrieve it. Nearly a minute passed before he was successful.

“While it was not our intention to come to this province,” the moose continued, despite not being able to see the judge. “The fact remains that this is our land now, as much as it belongs to anyone else. With property under the law comes the right to life and free enterprise. My community is demanding nothing from either the provincial government or the people of this province, except for the freedom to be safe in our travels.”

“He should talk,” a man in the gallery said to a woman who was not his wife. “Did you see the size of the car he rolled up in?”

“Thousands of my kind are killed every year by motorists in this province. It is clear to us that neither the province nor the motorists themselves care about this issue, or they would alter their behaviour. Roads are still being built by the province, which is ignoring the appeals from several prominent moose action groups and other associated interests. Drivers continue to speed around in the dark, when members of my community are most active. And perhaps most egregiously, you continue to line your streets and highways with salt in the winter. Again, I don’t want to repeat what has already been heard by the court as published in government records, but you know that our diet leaves us salt deficient. Like you and those number papers you give to each other to get things you don’t make yourself, my community spends at least half of the day in search of this important resource.”

“You are trying my patience,” the judge said as he rolled his eyes. “The Supreme Court has already determined that the province is liable. Consequently, your species needs to be managed and controlled. End of story.”

The moose continued undettered by the judge’s frantic movements under his desk. “We are perpetually drawn to this magic and curious treasure, which you have so conveniently provided for us along your highways of death. The only conclusion that the more reasonable members of my community can make is that you are purposely and cruelly engaging in a drawn-out spectacle of torture and–”

The judge slammed his pen on his desk. “Alright I’ve heard enough. Your minute is over and it’s my turn to talk.” He stood up behind his desk. “This really is the easiest thing I’ve done all month. Your species does not qualify for citizenship under Canadian law. As such, neither your right to property or personhood can be recognised by this or any other court. Your appeal is denied.”

The moose stamped his foot. “Your Honour, I cannot stand for this.”

“Bailiff, would you please remove this animal from the courts. A smell’s starting to rise.”

“With all due respect, Your Honour,” the moose said, slamming his briefcase closed. “Personal insults are hardly justified.”

“Get out or I will turn you into hamburger myself,” said the judge and dropped his

pencil. The moose looked around the room nervously and decided that leaving under his own power was the best thing that he could do.

As he pulled the sleeve of his robe back down to his wrist, the judge read the note which he had written on the back of his right hand and chuckled to himself. “Mogen Clamp. Oh dear, oh dear.”

the suffering of animals and the call to mercy

I feel obliged to address a column published by Rosie Dimanno in the January 28, 2010 edition of The Star. In the article "Skater Weir brushes off zealots in fox fur flap", Dimanno chastises animal rights protestors who are critical of figure skater Johnny Weir's use of animal fur in his costumes. It is clear that Mrs. Dimanno has a very particular opinion, and certainly she has the right to express her views. I am not condemning her ideology about the subject, but rather the painfully unprofessional journalism which she evidences throughout her piece. Principally, she condemns the views of animal rights activists without actually addressing any of their concerns.

For example, Dimanno quotes a letter from of one of the animal rights activists, and in the next sentence states "Animal rights zealots are parasites who feed off the peltry sins of celebrities in order to command media attention". There are two problems here. Firstly, she does not address the actual words expressed in the letter by the activist. Animals are indeed killed in order to provide decorative fur for clothing in a time when synthetic substitutes are available. The letter calls for a moral inquiry into the situation, and Dimanno responds by sidestepping the issue. Secondly, the use of the word "zealot" has clear negative connotations which will definitely colour the opinions of Star readers. Later in the article, she calls animal rights supporters "the righteous Cute 'n' Cuddly brigade" and "wackadoo crusaders".

While Dimanno might not care what animals go through, as a writer who publishes in a newspaper that ostensibly adheres to the traditions of journalism, she should be more engaged with her story. Instead of providing a substantive defence of the use of animal fur for clothing, she resorts to childish namecalling. In short, her language denotes a lack of critical inquiry into the issue which she purports to be writing about. Her column is no better than the numerous blogs which proliferate for free on the internet. Is The Star not supposed to adhere to a higher standard than uninformed punditry? If Dimanno's article is any indication of the journalistic principles in operation at The Star, then I cannot think of a reason for the continued existence of the paper beyond maintaining the salaries of incompetent writers.

For the record, I am an academic and a vegetarian who supports animal rights to the same degree that I am support human rights. If Dimanno wishes to engage in a more critical debate in future articles, perhaps I can suggest that she actually do some research instead of demonstrating her ignorance.

Read the original article here.

Pros and cons of a human cull

Re: 'Pros and cons of a human cull' (Editorial, Dec. 7)

I am one amongst many who are becoming increasingly concerned with the overpopulation of humans in the suburban and rural areas of the City of Hamilton.

The humans have been increasing in very large numbers over the past several years, and are now becoming bolder when it comes to approaching forests and, indeed, our creeks throughout the area.

In addition, the human population has in recent years become a bane to grazers who border the wooded areas and ravines throughout the city.

As a resident of Dundas living on a ravine, I have lost access to my shrubs and gardens to the ravenous land appetites of these intruders who only share if they are too stupid to put up a fence.

As many forest dwellers can attest, humans will turn almost anything into private property and the significant cost of the loss falls to the animals who live there.

As well, humans have devoured countless resources, leaving residents of the Earth with environments that are bare from the ground to the heights the humans can reach.

We animals of the forest try to keep our properties looking presentable year-round, but after the humans have satisfied their appetites at our expense, our homes take on a shabby appearance in spite of our continuing efforts to enhance their appearance.

I, and many others, call on the Hamilton Conservation Authority to do the right thing and help protect the land and sky and especially the forest animals from this ever-worsening situation.

The human population must be reduced -- now.

Sincerely,
A. Deer

PS: I apologize for the delay in responding to the article of December 7. As I am unable to change my word processing software to accommodate my cloven hoof, typing for me involves patience and frequent use of the delete key.

While the above letter is intended as satire, I cannot help but note the seriousness with which it was written. The author of the original words views life forms as disposable when they inconvenience him. It seems rational to him that the deer population should be controlled, as otherwise they threaten human activities such as driving and the appreciation of one particular style of landscaping. He spends countless hundreds of dollars per year on plants and he wants to appreciate their beauty. Fair enough, Mr. Moore.

However, the attitude on display by supporters of the cull is at the heart of the environmental problems which have begun to define the twenty-first century. Let me put aside for the moment the argument of the rights of the deer not to be killed. Let me also put aside the argument that in the grand scheme of things the deer have just as much right to eat Mr. Moore’s shrubs as he has in finding them beautiful. Human activity has historically been in a sense selfish. Every human activity involving the environment was made rational through property laws – if you owned something, then you could do what you like to it. However, the environmental consequences of such activity can no longer be ignored. Human habitation is increasing at the expense of non-human ecosystems.

Modern science suggests that the only way for humanity to survive and prosper is as a component of a larger, healthy biosphere. In order for such to occur, humans will need to live in symbiotic relationships with other life forms. The ideology that humans should be masters of the Earth for their benefit is currently resulting in a rate of species extinction not seen outside of unique catastrophes in the archaeological record. With this in mind, Mr. Moore, is it not logical for you to do a little research into which among the thousands of plant species not eaten by deer is attractive enough for you to plant in your garden. Surely, such diligence will avoid extending the financial and moral expense of “humanely” culling a deer population from those Hamilton taxpayers who thoroughly enjoy the co-habitation of the deer in the west end.

letter to the Hamilton Spectator

what goes in must come out

Hey kids, it's Buy Nothing Day! Happy Festivus for the Rest of Us.

So, why McDonald's in particular?

Principally, targetting an organization like McDonald's gets us to the heart of the problem with overconsumption. We in North America have quite literally grown fat from our own excess. High-energy yet nutrient-deficient diets, as perhaps best exemplified by the McDonalds nightmare, have tainted what should otherwise be regarded as the healthiest period humans have experienced in our existence. There is no logical or technological reason for modern humans to be malnourished. We create plenty of food for both human and animal consumption, and we certainly have the capacity to distribute that food to wherever it is needed. So what is keeping our nation underfed?

I should probably lay my cards on the table regarding what I consider to be 'underfed'. There's plenty to eat in North America, of course. Stores are full of packaged foods, restaurants are plentiful, and most people earn enough money that they can buy food when they need to. So why the health epidemic, with food-related illness at a high unmatched since the invention of refrigeration? Why are so many children morbidly obese? (This may indeed be far less of an issue in Canada than the USA, but trends here are similar.) Why do so many people who eat three or more meals a day malnourished, lacking nutrients in their bodies that are more widely available now than in any other time in human history?

Several studies have suggested that not only do we eat too much on an individual basis, but also that we waste a huge amount of food in the process. Dumpster divers have taken this little fact to heart, as freeganism has spread by means of ideological urgency and economic necessity. The existence of these groups among the urban poor and not-so-poor has shown that the recovery of food from society's wastefull habits is no simple rejection of social convention. Rooting through garbage containers of restaurants, supermarkets, and food production facilities to recover the tonnes and tonnes of edible food that is allowed to rot is an ideological stance against corporate agribusiness. The locus here is an economic one, in terms of how production is numerically evaluated. If, for example, I grow vegetables to feed people who have no food, the economy is in official terms stagnant. If a grocerystore throws away a truckful of food to make space for some more, the GNP/GDP goes up. In the latter case, the poor are still hungry.

The key for a good food supply is not increasing food production, but rather increasing (or more properly stated, maintaining) the quality of our food sources. It's really just a matter of having a proper infrastructure for food production and delivery. Sadly, that infrastructure has been taken over by corporate agribusiness, which does not gauge success by means of food quality or the health of their clientelle, but rather through crude profitability. Big business does not care about long-term health trends in individuals. BSE (mad cow) symptoms, for example, can take a decade to become manifest in a human. Do we really think that ten years after the fact, McDonals will ever be held accountable for helping spread a disease that can come from a variety of food sources? From the point of view of industrial food producers, if profits are impeded by more thorough food inspections, then those inspections do not occur.

Corporations focus on quarterly profits and stock-market accountability. That is their nature, and we should account for this behaviour when dealing with corporate involvement in matters of life and death (food production, health care, etc). They process food to be tasty (ie: tonnes of sugar and salt), long-lasting (full of cancer-producing preservatives), and cheap (unhealthy pesticide use, for example, to remove production costs).

The end result is food which is processed for maximum shelf-life and transportability and minimum nutritive value. If you don't believe me on this point, check the label of any package of processed vegetables. Canning can be a relatively harmless procedure, so long as vegetables are not cooked at the plant. Freezing, overcooking, and otherwise modifying the veggies is a sure way to lose any or all vitamins and minerals that they may contain. A normal serving of those same vegetables obtained fresh from a grocer maintains the food's nutritional value (assuming that you don't destroy those precious vitamins and anti-oxidants by overcooking your food -- ask Woody Harelson). Some manufacturers get around the fact that they are destroying their food by adding a vitamin or mineral to their product. Vitamin C is a great example, as it is very cheaply produced, can be inserted into most foods, and is absorbed by the body quite easily. Vitamin fortification can be an expensive process however, especially for some vitamins and minerals, and thus you do not see vitamins in every food product that you can buy.

To make a long story short, when you hear from various sources that you should eat 5-8 servings of vegetables per day, it is unlikely that frozen stir-fries, creamed corn, frozen dinners, and V8 vegetable drinks give you any of the actual vitamins that doctors are telling you to consume in order to be healthy, which is the whole goal of the exercise. Parents, you are not doing your kids a favour by including frozen peas or broccoli on their plates. Sadly, instead of opening the microwaving package, you have to actually spend the time it takes to cook fresh veggies, otherwise your kids are eating calories largely empty of nutritional value.

This is where McDonalds comes back into the picture. They basically launched the fast-food revolution that has engulfed North America. Their marketing and production techniques have made it possible to convince hundreds of millions of people that good food can be prepared in about a minute. That people live a 'quick' life these days is a topic that's too broad to properly examine here. It should be enough to state that the McDonalds process is not an evil one in the sense that they are trying to keep people malnourished. Rather, quick and crappy food is a natural adaptation to the manner in which we view production and consumption: addictive, cheap, now.

There are other aspects of McDonalds culture that should keep you the fuck away. There's the anti-union nature of the company, the exploitation of immigrant and poor labour sources, the massive amount of environmental damage that accompanies daily operations at their restaurants, the unsubtle manipulation of our youth to pursue products which are detrimental to their development, and the proliferation of animal cruelty through industrial meat production facilities. Also, by avoiding McDonalds you can join those two kids from out west who are boycotting the company to protest softwood lumber duties.

Buy Nothing Day does not suggest that you need nothing to live on a daily basis. That would be a very naive position. Rather, November 25th should serve as a reminder that we have ritualized certain forms of production to the detriment of others. By blindly accepting our system as 'the best', we are ignoring alternatives that are much more healthy and sustainable, and do not rely on cheap gimmickery to maintain themselves.

do the reactions of lobsters rule the fate of mankind?

The Associated Press ran an article this past week which made me question the role of its journalistic practise. Not that skepticism was ever in question, but hey, phrases get turned sometimes. Without doing any research other than this one source, we the readers are supposed to agree with them that lobsters feel no pain. This otherwise important ethical question is now made simple: of course they can’t as their brains are too small. No other opinions are given; neither are other scientific communities consulted. Most other judgements are suppressed by the complete lack of comparative data.

If we are going to make the decision we should at least have a few questions asked. The lobster might express pain in a different manner than we expect. Then again, it might not. We aren’t all vegetarian, but inflicting suffering should not be a decision that is made lightly.

There’s a great book by JM Coetzee called The Lives of Animals. He raises new questions without necessarily providing easily consumable answers. The point is not the absoluteness of such decisions, but rather the impulse to reflection and debate.As the AP likes to frequently point out to us, debate should be HOT!! with a capital !

Just for fun, here's the totality of it:


Section Front • Section Front

E-mail This StoryE-mail This Story Printable VersionPrintable Version

Hot Debate: Do Lobsters Feel Pain?

PORTLAND, Maine, Feb. 14, 2005

Workin' It With Chef Trotter

A lobsterman off the coast of Maine measures his catch. (Photo: AP)

"This is exactly like the tobacco industry claiming that smoking doesn't cause cancer,"
Karin Robertson, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals


(AP) A new study out of Norway concludes that it's unlikely lobsters feel pain, stirring up a long-simmering debate over whether the valuable seafood suffers when it's being cooked.

Animal activists for years have claimed that lobsters feel excruciating agony when they are cooked, and that dropping one in a pot of boiling water is tantamount to torture.

The study, which was funded by the Norwegian government and written by a scientist at the University of Oslo, suggests that lobsters and other invertebrates probably don't suffer even if lobsters do tend to thrash in boiling water.

"Lobsters and crabs have some capacity of learning, but it is unlikely that they can feel pain," the study concluded.

The 39-page report was aimed at determining if invertebrates should be subject to animal welfare legislation as Norway revises its animal welfare law. The report looked at invertebrate groups such as insects, crustaceans, worms and mollusks and summarized the scientific literature dealing with feelings and pain among those creatures without backbones.

It concluded that most invertebrates — including lobsters, crabs, worms, snails, slugs and clams — probably don't have the capacity to feel pain.

Lobster biologists in Maine have maintained for years that the lobster's primitive nervous system and underdeveloped brain are similar to that of an insect. While lobsters react to different stimuli, such as boiling water, the reactions are escape mechanisms, not a conscious response or an indication of pain, they say.

The Norwegian report backs up a study in the early 1990s at the University of Maine and reinforces what people in the lobster industry have always contended, said Bob Bayer, executive director of the Lobster Institute, a research and education organization in Orono.

"We've maintained all along that the lobster doesn't have the ability to process pain," Bayer said.

People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, an animal rights organization based in Norfolk, Va., has made lobster pain part of its Fish Empathy Project, putting out stickers and pamphlets with slogans like, "Being Boiled Hurts. Let Lobsters Live."

PETA regularly demonstrates at the Maine Lobster Festival in Rockland, and 10 years ago placed a full-page ad in a Rockland newspaper featuring an open letter from actress Mary Tyler Moore urging festival-goers to forego lobster.

"If we had to drop live pigs or chickens into scalding water, chances are that few of us would eat them. Why should it be any different for lobsters?" the ad read.

PETA's Karin Robertson called the Norwegian study biased, saying the government doesn't want to hurt the country's fishing industry.

"This is exactly like the tobacco industry claiming that smoking doesn't cause cancer," she said.

Robertson said many scientists believe lobsters do indeed feel pain. For instance, a zoologist with The Humane Society of the United States made a written declaration that lobsters can feel pain after a chef dismembered and sauteed a live lobster to prepare a Lobster Fra Diavolo dish on NBC's "Today" show in 1994.

But Mike Loughlin, who studied the boiling of lobsters when he was a University of Maine graduate student, said lobsters simply lack the brain capacity to feel pain.

"It's a semantic thing: No brain, no pain," said Loughlin, who now works as a biologist at the Maine Atlantic Salmon Commission.

It's debatable whether the debate will ever be resolved.

The Norwegian study, even while saying it's unlikely that crustaceans feel pain, also cautioned that more research is needed because there is a scarcity of scientific knowledge on the subject.

Whether lobsters feel pain or not, many consumers will always hesitate at placing lobsters in boiling pots of water.

New Englanders may feel comfortable cooking their lobsters, but people outside the region often feel uneasy about boiling a live creature, said Kristen Millar, executive director of the Maine Lobster Promotion Council. "Consumers don't generally greet and meet an animal before they eat it," she said.

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