Frozen cave lion cub found in Siberia with its whiskers intact is 28,000 years old

Found frozen deep in the Siberian Arctic, the cave lion cub looks like she's asleep and one touch might awaken her.

© Love Dalén A frozen cave lion cub found in Siberia with whiskers still intact is more than 28,000 years old

By Katie Hunt, CNN 

The cub's golden fur is matted with mud but otherwise undamaged. Her teeth, skin, soft tissue and organs are mummified but all intact. Some 28,000 years since she last closed her eyes, her claws are still sharp enough to prick the finger of one of the scientists who are studying this remarkable -- and unprecedented -- permafrost-preserved specimen.

The Siberian Simba, nicknamed Sparta, was one of two baby cave lions -- extinct big cats that used to roam widely across the northern hemisphere -- found in 2017 and 2018 by mammoth tusk hunters on the banks of the Semyuelyakh River in Russia's Far East.

Initially, it was thought the two cubs were siblings, as they were found just 15 meters (49 feet) apart, but a new study found that they differ in age by around 15,000 years. Boris, as the second cub is known, is 43,448 years old, according to radio carbon dating.

"Sparta is probably the best preserved Ice Age animal ever found, and is more or less undamaged apart from the fur being a bit ruffled. She even had the whiskers preserved. Boris is a bit more damaged, but still pretty good," said Love Dalen, a professor of evolutionary genetics at the Centre for Palaeogenetics in Stockholm, Sweden, and an author of a new study on the cubs.

© Jacqueline Gill Love Dalén measuring Sparta, a cave lion cub found frozen in the Siberian permafrost.

Both cubs were just 1 or 2 months old when they perished, the study said. It's not clear how they died, but Dalen and the research team -- which includes Russian and Japanese scientists -- said there were no signs of them being killed by a predator.

Computed tomography scans showed skull damage, dislocation of ribs, and other distortions in their skeletons.

"Given their preservation they must have been buried very quickly. So maybe they died in a mudslide, or fell into a crack in the permafrost," Dalen said. "Permafrost forms large cracks due to seasonal thawing and freezing."

During the last Ice Age, Siberia wasn't the empty place it is today. Mammoths, tundra wolves, bears, woolly rhinoceroses, bison and saiga antelopes roamed, along with cave lions -- a slightly bigger relative of African lions that live today.

Video: Take a look at this perfectly preserved Ice Age animal (CNN)


It's not known how the cave lion adapted to life in the harsh high latitudes, with its rapid changes of season, strong winds and cold, dark winters.

The study, published in the journal Quaternary, found that the cave lions' coat was similar but not identical to that of an African lion cub. The Ice Age cubs had a long thick fur undercoat that might have helped them adapt to the cold climate.

Tusk hunters

The mummified remains of a number of extinct animals -- a woolly rhino, a lark, a cave bear, a canine puppy -- that once roamed the Russia steppe have been found in recent years, often by hunters, who blast tunnels using high-pressure water hoses into the permafrost primarily in search of long curvy mammoth tusks. There is a lucrative -- if controversial -- trade in the tusks, which are prized by ivory carvers and collectors as an alternative to elephant ivory.

Russian scientists like Valery Plotnikov, a co-author of the study and a researcher at the Academy of Sciences in Yakutsk, Siberia's main city, have accompanied and developed working relationships with the tusk hunters, who unearth astonishing finds from the permafrost's mud and ice.

"In 2017, ... I worked with them in the hole, the ice cave," Plotnikov said on a podcast produced by the Natural History Museum in London that was released last month.

"It's very cold, very dangerous and very hard to work, terrible conditions, many mosquitoes," he added, saying he lost 10 kilos (22 pounds) in the month he spent with the tusk hunters. But the relationships he forged have generated a scientific bonanza, with Plotnikov saying he's come across the cave lion cubs, a wolf head and a family of mummified mammoths.

The climate crisis has also played a role. Warmer summers -- the Arctic is warming two times faster than the global average -- have weakened the permafrost layer and lengthened the tusk-hunting season.

"There are definitely more finds being made these days. The main reason is the increased demand for mammoth ivory, meaning more people are out searching in the permafrost. But climate change also contributes, making the melting (and thus field work) season longer," Dalen explained via email.

The scientists have to test the frozen remains for infectious diseases, such as anthrax, that can lay dormant before they examine them in detail, although Dalen said that it was unlikely that the remains harbor ancient pathogens. The sex of the cubs was confirmed by CT scan and genetic-based sex determination.

Dalen said that the next step would be to sequence the DNA of Sparta, which could reveal the evolutionary history of the cave lion, the population size and its unique genetic features.

The advantages of unionization are obvious, so why don't more workers join unions?

Larry Savage, Professor, Labour Studies, Brock University 

and Stephanie Ross, Associate Professor and Director, School of Labour Studies, 

McMaster University

It’s well established that unionized workers earn better wages and have better benefits than their non-union counterparts. Unionized workers also experienced much greater levels of job security during the COVID-19 pandemic. But if the advantages of union membership are so obvious, why are fewer than one in three workers in Canada unionized?

© THE CANADIAN PRESS/Nathan Denette Thousands of teachers from the Peel District School Board hold a one-day strike in Mississauga, Ont., in February 2020.

While there’s no consensus about which factors are most likely to sway support for unionization, dissatisfaction with working conditions and the desire for dignity and voice at work are often cited as key reasons why workers seek out unions.

Wanting a union and securing a union, however, are two very different things. That’s because there are enduring obstacles to unionization that make it incredibly difficult for workers to turn their initial support for the idea of a union into reality.
Barriers to unionization

Labour laws play a fundamental role in either helping or impeding unionization. For example, independent contractors and the self-employed are legally excluded from union membership in Canada and, in many provinces, so are agricultural and domestic workers. For workers who can legally unionize, provincial governments — under pressure from the business community — have generally made it more difficult to exercise that right in recent decades.

Employers intent on resisting unionization frequently exploit loopholes in labour law to build opposition to unions within their own workforces. While many union avoidance tactics are illegal, employers are often less fearful of the penalties they may face for engaging in “union-busting” activities than of the consequences of unionization.

© (AP Photo/Jay Reeves) Amazon fought hard against a unionization push, which was ultimately unsuccessful.

Union avoidance is a multi-million dollar business. Lawyers and consultants devise strategies for managers to maintain union-free workplaces. These strategies can include active intimidation and surveillance of union supporters, exploiting divisions within the workforce to stir up opposition to the union or spreading misinformation about the implications of unionization.

These common union avoidance strategies are difficult to overcome, especially given the power imbalance between employers and workers.
Union substitution, suppression

Effective anti-union campaigns often rely on a combination of union substitution and union suppression.

Union substitution techniques are the carrots designed to increase worker loyalty to the employer, thus making employees less likely to identify with the union. Some non-union companies operating in highly unionized sectors try to keep wages and working conditions in line with those of unionized workers in an effort to dissuade their own workforces from considering a union.

If union substitution represents the carrot, union suppression techniques are the stick. Union suppression seeks to plant anti-union seeds of doubt in workers’ minds and play on fears that unionization might result in job loss. Suppression techniques often include targeting pro-union employees for discipline and dismissal.

In recent years, retail giants Target and Home Depot had their slick anti-union videos leaked on social media, providing insight into how much money and effort employers are willing to pour into such initiatives.

Walmart, meantime, uses a “Union Probability Index” to monitor employee behaviour and morale. If a store’s index gets high enough, head office sends teams into the store to ensure it remains union-free. And, as we saw in the cases of Walmart in Jonquière, Que., and Foodora in Ontario, some companies will shut down outlets or operations rather than tolerate a union.

Read more: Despite Foodora ruling, app-based workers face uphill union battle
Shortage of unions

Despite these aggressive union avoidance tactics, public opinion polls indicate that, if given the choice, many non-union workers would opt to unionize.

However, many of these workers, particularly those concentrated in relatively small workplaces in the private sector, simply can’t find a union willing to organize them. Organizing small workplaces is generally cost-prohibitive for unions and rarely results in broader bargaining power for workers in a particular sector.

Union supply problems explain why we’re more likely to see unions in large workplaces with more than 500 employees than in smaller workplaces with fewer than 20 employees.

© THE CANADIAN PRESS/Graham Hughes Swissport employees protest outside Pierre Elliott Trudeau Airport in Montréal in December 2019. About 108 workers who are responsible for refuelling planes walked off the job.

The lack of union supply, labour relations power dynamics and the union avoidance strategies of employers all work together to dissuade workers from exercising their right to unionize.

This outcome isn’t accidental. It’s no coincidence that the rate of unionization has fallen in conjunction with the passage of anti-union labour law reforms in most provinces. Those reforms have made it more difficult for workers to exercise their legal right to unionize and easier for employers to interfere in union-organizing campaigns.
What’s ahead?

Governments could certainly change labour laws to facilitate unionization and crack down on employers engaging in union avoidance activities.

Many of the proposals contained in the former Ontario Liberal government’s now shelved Changing Workplaces Review could provide a road map for offering workers the necessary tools to exercise their rights more meaningfully, including a framework for broader based bargaining that would help workers in small workplaces.

Given growing levels of social and economic inequality in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, the need to facilitate unionization is more urgent than ever.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Stephanie Ross receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council.

Larry Savage receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council.

SEE

https://plawiuk.blogspot.com/2021/08/anatomy-of-anti-union-meeting-how-no.html

How No Evil Foods, a plant-based meat company, squashed a union drive

Online workers are creating new tools to improve their working conditions. Will it work?

Daphne Leprince-Ringuet

About a year ago, shortly after having a baby boy, Brittany set out to find ways that she could contribute financially as a stay-at-home mum. She soon discovered the crowdsourced work marketplace Amazon Mechanical Turk (AMT) – and after working her way through the platform, started landing jobs that pay up to $50 per hour.

© Image: Bloomberg / Contributor / Getty Images Mechanical Turk requesters outsource paid tasks and processes via the platform, where they are made available to workers, or Turkers. Image: Bloomberg / Contributor / Getty Images

At times, she laughs, she is even making more money than her husband.

That is not to say that the "good work" came easily. Some savvy Googling and a few Reddit channels got things moving, but she still remembers starting off with "crappy stuff".

"I compare it to a video game," says Brittany, who did not want her full name reported. "At first you have to do what's called grinding to get the good gear and stuff. When you first start Mechanical Turk, it's like that. Then it starts to get better."

"Mechanical Turk" is a reference to a fake chess-playing machine developed in the 18th century to fool human players into thinking they were competing against an automaton. In reality, the elaborate machine could hide a flesh-and-bone chess master, highly capable of beating their opponent, but leaving them dumbfounded in the face of what seemed like monumental technological progress.

In many ways, three centuries later, the work of Amazon's Mechanical Turk resembles that of the ostensibly magical chess-playing machine.

Within the online marketplace, posters – also called requesters – outsource paid tasks and processes via the platform, where they are made available to workers, or Turkers.

Turkers can pick, mix and click through the offers, called Human Intelligence Tasks (HITs). Some HITs consist of simply responding to surveys as part of a research project; others will require more in-depth work, such as conducting data validation and research.

AMT has made a name for itself because of the platform's huge role in assisting artificial intelligence (AI) applications. The AI models that now prevail in every aspect of contemporary life, from moderating content on social media to assisting driverless cars, are effectively based on huge datasets that require manual labeling. Much of this labeling, as it turns out, is done by Turkers – the human knowledge inside the AI's decision-making box.

For example, ImageNet's 14 million-strong database was largely checked, sorted and labeled by AMT workers. Twitter relies on Turkers to improve its real-time search. And with the global data collection and labeling market expected to reach $3.5 billion by 2026, it is unlikely that AMT's workforce will find itself out of HITs anytime soon.

The nature of HITs varies immensely.

When the COVID-19 pandemic hit the US last year, Sarah was working in retail and, like many others, it wasn't long before she found herself in a shaky situation.

She left her job out of fear for her health, only to find that she wouldn't be granted unemployment benefits. As the crisis worsened, Sarah (not her real name) moved states to look after an older relative; and after browsing for quick money-making options, she signed up, hoping for the best, to AMT.

Sarah says she read toxic social media posts to help with content moderation, or was shown unpleasant images as part of research projects recording her reactions. "I have a folder saved of all the weird things I've encountered doing this," she says.

Yet after one month of continuous work, she says she had made less than $500.

It's up to requesters to determine how much they pay Turkers, with no obligation to commit to a minimal wage – meaning that some Turkers, especially when they have nowhere else to turn to for financial help, end up accepting minute rewards for their work.

"Really gross" is how Sarah describes the requesters who jump on the opportunity to get work done for very little money. "I think they forget we are real people," she adds.
New ways of organizing and institutionalizing work

Whatever their experience of the work, in the age of the gig economy, workers on services like this are self-employed – meaning no sick leave, no minimum wage, and no employee rights.

It is difficult to know exactly how large a group Turkers constitute: while Amazon once reported 500,000 registered workers, analysts have previously estimated that 2,000 to 5,000 workers can be found on the platform at any time, amounting to a total 10,000 active Turkers. Amazon did not respond to requests from ZDNet for comment on AMT.

But as the COVID-19 pandemic shapes into a global recession and national levels of unemployment reach new heights, workers are increasingly turning to platforms like AMT, despite the instability of the job, in search of paid gigs.

Although Amazon doesn't share precise numbers, early research seems to confirm this, with requesters on the platform reporting that they are seeing double the number of newly created accounts picking up their HITs, compared to pre-COVID-19 times.

Fabian Stephany, a researcher in computational social sciences at the University of Oxford, is trying to quantify the impact of the pandemic's economic repercussions on gig workers in general. His recent work highlighted a clear increase in the number of registered online freelancer profiles in the US since the start of the crisis, while at the same time, demand for workers unusually fluctuated, potentially as a result of companies facing restricted budgets.

In other words, ever-more precarious workers are joining the gig economy, and the competition for jobs is getting even stronger.

Services like these are new forms of work, and new ways of organizing and institutionalizing work. Stephany tells ZDNet: "With this change, you always have to ask the political questions: how fairly should you pay, what should the working conditions be, and so on."

© Provided by ZDNet Ever-more precarious workers are joining the gig economy, and the competition for jobs is getting even stronger. Image: picture alliance / Contributor / Getty Images

Those questions are not new. For years, in fact, some Turkers have been vocal about the shortcomings of AMT, a platform that Jeff Bezos himself has labeled as "people as a service".

An early example of Turkers coming together to express their grievances occurred in 2014, when Kristy Milland, an active Turker now turned gig economy researcher, banded with fellow workers in a campaign called "Dear Jeff Bezos".

In a series of letters addressed to Amazon's CEO, Turkers elaborated on many aspects of AMT that they found problematic. There was, of course, the contentious issue of payment – since Amazon exerts no control whatsoever on the value of compensation imposed by requesters. Milland's later research showed that at an average $3.01 per hour, Turkers in the US earn significantly less than the minimum wage.

Another issue that was raised was that of mass rejection. Requesters can reject Turkers' work when they estimate that it is not up to their standards – and when their work is not approved, Turkers don't get paid. The "Dear Jeff Bezos" campaign, therefore, called for a formal grievance process against requesters who might be unfairly rejecting honest work.

There seems to be a persisting dynamic at the heart of many of the problems called out by Milland and her fellow Turkers: a striking imbalance of power between workers and requesters. "Turkers are human beings, not algorithms," said the campaign; "Turkers should not be sold as cheap labor"; and most importantly, "Turkers need to have a method of representing themselves to Requesters and the world via Amazon."
A growing interest in old-school rights

Turkers haven't stopped voicing demands for better working conditions since Milland's 2014 campaign. A name that most workers on the platform are familiar with, for example, is Turkopticon, a website that was founded, in its own terms, to help those "in the crowd of crowdsourcing" watch out for each other.

Turkopticon, which is now also a Facebook page and a blog, adopts at times a markedly confrontational tone. The platform provides a space for workers to vent their grievances against some aspects of AMT in an effort to bring more public attention to the issues. "We are bringing attention to the same issues that seem to have haunted us for 10 years: Mass rejections and account suspensions," reads the opener on Turkopticon's new blog.

The platform is even taking tangible action by speaking up to Amazon on behalf of Turkers whose accounts have been mistakenly shut down. According to the organizers, there have already been several successes in re-instating wrongfully suspended accounts following unfair mass rejections by requesters.

By blurring the usual definitions of employer and employee, the gig economy has transformed the nature of work. But among the estimated 50 million workers who currently make up the gig economy, there seems to be a growing interest in old-school rights-claiming actions.

In a much-publicized example, Uber drivers organized a collective strike in 2019, which spanned 25 cities across five continents, and led to the publication of a manifesto asking, among other things, for the right for all app-based drivers to form unions.

Following these events, Uber recently lost a court battle in the UK over how its drivers are classified, potentially paving the way for workers to claim holiday pay or a minimum wage. Shortly after, in another landmark ruling, Uber went one step further and agreed to recognize that the GMB trade union would have the power to represent UK drivers in discussions over earnings, pensions, benefits and so on.

Such organization is harder for purely online workers, but they are trying to improve their situation in other ways. Turkopticon, for example, has started setting up international discussions, bringing Turkers together to come up with "action plans" to make turking work better for the workers. And in a recent move that seems to reflect the desire to organize even more formally, the platform united with labor rights group Tech Workers Coalition to launch its first fundraiser.

It's still the case, of course, that the power that online communities of Turkers have when it comes to influencing the policies of a tech behemoth such as Amazon remains very limited. In other words, when negotiating working conditions, the terms of the debate are still very much out of the hands of the workers.

One Turker, who goes by the name Tjololo, spent years making "beer money" as a Turker on the platform, before he started liaising with requesters to help them make a better use of AMT – a side-hustle that he does for fun more than anything else, in parallel to working a nine-to-five job.

Tjololo regularly participates in online communities of Turkers like Turkopticon; in his opinion, however, going so far as to call those groups a new form of unionizing might be pushing it.

"I agree that the various communities are helpful but I don't think they're quite as powerful as a 'union 2.0' might imply," Tjololo tells ZDNet. "We have very little say when it comes to actually changing Amazon's policies."

Upgrading the wages recommended by default on AMT, for instance, or creating better channels to dispute rejections, are all actions that are out of Turkers' hands. Despite the tips, tricks, and tactics shared online, therefore, workers still have little bargaining power when it comes to generating real change.

"We are constantly advocating for higher wages, but the platform is still looked at as a place where you can get work done for less than the minimum wage," says Tjololo. "A union, I believe, would have direct access to the platform and would be able to make positive change."
Being part of a much bigger community

MTurkForum, TurkerNation, MTurkCrowd, Turkerhub, TurkerView: alongside Turkopticon, explains Tjololo, there is a huge number of online groups and forums where Turkers communicate on a daily basis, whether to exchange professional advice, complain about the job, or simply to hang out.

From Reddit to Slack channels through WhatsApp groups, Turkers have gathered all over the web and social media, in groups often marked by a strong sense of belonging to the same community.

To communicate, they use everything from Slack to Discord to Facebook to forums, says Tjololo, and even some IRC channels that are still floating around.

Michael (not his real name) who has been turking for a couple of years now, describes a similar experience.

He quickly turned to online forums and communities dedicated to AMT, initially hunting for advice about turking, but soon found that the groups were also about banding together and encouraging each other. Office-based small talk, it would seem, would pale in comparison to AMT's most popular discussion platforms.

"It's totally a way to socialize," Michael tells ZDNet. "If you go to the TurkerView forum, for example, you'll find people talking about fantasy football, discussing their medical conditions or personal relationships. Someone will disappear for a while and it'll be like: 'Hey, what happened to this guy, I hope they come back?'"

Ultimately, despite having another job where he associates with physical people, Michael still finds himself seeking social contact from the community of Turkers because of what he refers to as a sense of "camaraderie".

At their core, therefore, the Facebook groups, Slack channels, sub-Reddits and blogs dedicated to Amazon's Mechanical Turkers are all about a basic drive: that of communicating between "co-workers", for want of a word, better suited to the modern-day economy.

"Socializing at work is something that we all do in our professions. It's known to improve the quality of life at work," Paola Tubaro, economist turned sociologist at the French National Centre for Scientific Research, tells ZDNet.

For Mechanical Turks, however, socializing at work isn't a given. Just as the Mechanical Turk chess master hid behind the cover of an automated machine back in the 18th century, so AMT workers are often referred to as "invisible". With virtually all of the work occurring at home and behind a screen, online work leaves little room for casual chats at the coffee machine or after-work drinks.

This is why digital platforms and social media tools have come to prominence among Turkers – to respond to the plain and simple need to socialize at work.

© Provided by ZDNet With virtually all of the work occurring at home and behind a screen, online work leaves little room for casual chats at the coffee machine. Image: Bloomberg / Getty Images

For Tubaro, this is an important first step, in the context of a system that makes it difficult to come together as a traditional union: even by only talking to each other, Turkers open the door to creating a collective of workers, and potentially mobilizing to increase their negotiating power.

The theory has already been proven to be true. In Brazil, for example, researchers found that Turkers use online platforms like WhatsApp for much more than exchanging memes and jokes about their work; rather, they are using social media as a means to organize themselves to advocate for better working conditions.

Outside of the US, turking comes with the particularity that workers don't get paid in dollars, but instead are granted credits to use on Amazon's website. Unsurprisingly, therefore, Brazilian Turkers have long been asking for a more adequate form of payment – and much of the groundwork for protesting is carried out through online discussion groups.

For example, the researchers found that Brazilian Turkers had mobilized via a WhatsApp group, to send daily emails to Amazon asking for payments to their bank accounts.

For Rafael Grohmann, a researcher specialized in digital labor from Unisinos University in Brazil, who has spent years investigating the behavior of Brazilian Turkers, it is evident that online communities and social media tools allow Turkers to communicate. This, in turn, is sowing the seeds of a new form of collective mobilization – one that is better suited to the digital age.

"Informal channels are the beginning of collective formation. Communication between workers is the primary form of organization, like the germ of radical possibilities for struggles," Grohmann tells ZDNet.

"New methods of control and organization of work by companies require new methods and strategies of resistance and alternatives on the part of workers," he continues. "It is through WhatsApp, Facebook, Discord, that Mechanical Turk workers communicate and try to organize themselves collectively."
Finding fresh ways to make turking pay

Some of the most popular platforms dedicated to turking have adopted another approach, to create the tools to improve their working conditions.

Chris runs a popular website called TurkerView, and he is a well-known figure among the most adept Turkers. Launched in 2016 as a forum, TurkerView now reaches over half of workers on the platform, he says – and the numbers are growing almost faster than he can manage.

"Find requesters worth working with": the welcoming banner on TurkerView's website sets the tone. The platform, in effect, promises to help Turkers reliably fast-forward their way to lucrative and rewarding HITs.

TurkerView gathers data from Turkers themselves, who can submit feedback about the HITs they have completed to provide fellow workers with insights on requesters that pay well and are safe to work with. Workers are encouraged to give their opinion on whether the pay was up to the task – the idea being that getting $8 to rate pictures of puppies isn't exactly the same deal as a similar pay for grim content moderation, for example.

The platform also keeps track of how well requesters communicate with Turkers and how long they take to approve a completed HIT. A wage aggregate tool calculates the average hourly rate for any given task, based on the completion time and the reward amount, with a red-orange-green color code indicating how the HIT compares to minimum wage standards in the US.

According to the statistics shared by the platform, TurkerView is used by over 20,000 workers, who have submitted around 750,000 reviews about more than 30,000 requesters.

Chris started as a Turker himself in 2015, and his experience of AMT has been unambiguously positive. "I fell in love with AMT," he tells ZDNet.

Of course, some HITs are worse than others, but the platform is all about adaptability, argues Chris. Turkers can be very successful, but it requires resourcefulness to understand AMT's workings and eventually succeed in beating the competition to tasks that are both interesting and highly paid.

Using a few coding skills he had picked up while turking, Chris found himself staying up until late at night to build some "random tools" that he thought might help Turkers find their way to success on AMT. The project morphed into TurkerView – and it didn't take long for the platform to start growing at pace.

© Provided by ZDNet Chris found himself staying up until late at night to build some tools that he thought might help Turkers find their way to success on AMT. Image: Getty Images/iStockphoto

And TurkerView is not the only worker-based platform that provides the means to make turking work better for those who are completing HITs.

Another service is provided by Turkopticon, with a focus on avoiding mass rejections and the ensuing account suspensions that can hit the work of Turkers. Turkopticon lets workers identify the requesters who have previously been given a review, providing reports about requesters at the click of a button, and this way letting workers avoid shady HITs to privilege those who will better reward their work.

"HITs worth turking for" on Reddit is dedicated to posting links to good-paying tasks; Our HIT Stop, meanwhile, describes itself as a community of Turkers who have come together to share tips to make work more profitable; the Turker Nation Slack channel includes groups named "daily HIT threads" and "rejection alerts". And those are only a few out of a long list of online groups dedicated to making AMT a platform that can benefit its workers.

All of these platforms seem to be built on the same premise: that in the age of the digital gig economy, the onus is on the workers to make the most of their jobs.
Advocating for better working conditions in the digital age

For some, the system works out well – even though it may take some time to learn how to crack the code to success. Michael, for example, remembers his early days on AMT: "It's a steep learning curve," he says. "You come on board, there's all these different jobs, they pay anything from a cent to 15 dollars, and you just don't know what's what.

"Over time, I managed to figure it out. I engrained myself into some of the social networks as I went looking for information on whether there were tools I could have to make this easier and more efficient."

All in all, Michael succeeded in making AMT a lucrative and pleasant job, largely thanks to the advice he found on online Turker groups. Despite the steep learning curve, he eventually figured out how to catch the good HITs that would let him grow some savings. He has just finished re-paying his car loan – with his turking revenue, rather than his teaching salary.

What's more: tinkering with some aspects of turking, for example by imposing a minimum wage, might bring in a host of changes to the platform, and not necessarily in people's best interests – and even if the move is prompted by the desire to improve working conditions.

This is why Brittany is wary of the possibility of unionizing. "I hope there won't be a union," she says. "As we start getting more rights, more will be expected of us, and I feel there would be more downsides. I don't want to trade off what I have."

As a self-employed worker, Brittany's current nine-to-five is punctuated by hours that she can spend looking after her newborn, reading to him and teaching him colors. The option of switching off from work at any point to do something else is a freedom that she doesn't believe she could ever find in a "normal" job.

In other words, the flexibility of the platform economy might be the root cause of extreme job insecurity for some workers, but for others, it is a high-risk, high-reward system – and one they are keen to embrace fully.

The debate about the future of online work is bound to be polarizing. On one end of the spectrum, some will always defend stricter regulations to protect the most vulnerable on platforms often described as akin to the "Wild West"; while others will remain staunch defenders of the flexibility of gig working.

And with workers coming to the platform with vastly different stories and backgrounds, stronger regulation will inevitably impact some in different ways to others.

In this context, one size will never fit all. But one thing is certain: as national employment rates lower in the aftermath of the COVID-19 pandemic, the digital gig economy is growing at pace. More vulnerable workers are joining digital platforms – not exactly out of choice, but rather out of need.

For them, having a greater say over their working conditions might seem an appealing prospect.

Back in the US, after only a few months spent on AMT, Sarah has now managed to get a student loan to start a new master's degree. Keen to put her experience of the platform behind her, she won't be found fighting for greater turking conditions any time soon – and in any case, she has resolved herself to the fact that "they're not going to change their ways".

But if anything, AMT has given her a heightened sense of urgency when it comes to advocating for better working conditions in the modern economy. "I thought this was pretty bleak, and it got me interested in poverty as a whole," she says. "Now, I've got into school and I'm getting my master's in social work."

Silicon Valley workers vote down union at SoftBank-backed Mapbox

SAN FRANCISCO (Reuters) -Workers of location data startup Mapbox said on Thursday that they had lost their bid to form a union to represent the company's U.S.-based employees, in a setback for a unionization movement in Silicon Valley that has made recent progress.

About two-thirds of Mapbox's eligible U.S. workers signed cards with the Mapbox Workers Union (MWU), but after the startup declined to voluntarily recognize the union, an election was held. In voting that concluded on Wednesday, 123 employees cast ballots against unionization, with 81 workers in favor, the Mapbox Workers Union wrote on Twitter https://twitter.com/MapboxUnion/status/1423326885967142916.

"Despite this, MWU remains committed to its purpose: to unify worker voices to promote solidarity, sustainability, responsibility, diversity, and transparency," the Mapbox Workers Union wrote.

The Mapbox employees sought to organize with the Communications Workers of America, which has notched recent wins in organizing software startup Glitch as well as more than 200 workers at Google-parent Alphabet Inc who formed a so-called "minority union" that will not be able to force the company to collectively bargain over wages or other issues.

Mapbox Chief Executive Peter Sirota said in a statement the company had respected employees' rights to decide on union representation.

"Today's vote - rejecting the union - will allow us to recommit to our values and ensure that we continue to be a business that succeeds because of our diverse and innovative global team," Sirota said.

The tech workforce was long considered out of reach for organized labor, but unions have made inroads in recent months. Workers at technology firms like Alphabet Inc and crowdfunding platform Kickstarter have formed unions to grapple with working conditions and business practices of big internet companies.

The CWA has other campaigns underway in Silicon Valley, said Wes McEnany, a CWA campaign lead.

"There's a lot of energy in organizing in tech," he said, adding that labor reform was needed to stop companies from influencing the unionization process in ways he believed were unfair.

He said Mapbox management held meetings in opposition to the union and crashed a Zoom meeting in which workers were discussing their efforts.

In a separate statement responding to those comments, Mapbox said, "We understand why disappointed union supporters might want a do-over in the press, but we ask that they respect their colleagues' decision. The election is over."

Asked whether the CWA would challenge the Mapbox result, McEnany said the union would "pursue options to hold them accountable."

(Reporting by Julia Love; Editing by Karishma Singh and Christian Schmollinger)

SEE

https://plawiuk.blogspot.com/2021/08/anatomy-of-anti-union-meeting-how-no.html

How No Evil Foods, a plant-based meat company, squashed a union drive

Amazon delivery drivers say there's a 'giant war' between them and the company as they struggle to meet package quotas

amayo@businessinsider.com (Aleeya Mayo) 

Parcels are stored in a truck in a logistics centre of the mail order company Amazon. 

Rolf Vennenbernd/picture alliance via Getty Images

Drivers for Amazon delivery partners usually have 170-350 packages to deliver per shift.

Insider interviewed three drivers who expanded on the difficulties of such a fast-paced job.

The drivers confirmed many things that have been reported before, included peeing in water bottles.

Before stepping down as CEO this year, Jeff Bezos built the Amazon empire around being customer-obsessed. But there's a lot that goes into getting packages delivered in two days.

Sometimes, it comes at the expense of human dignity, three workers told Insider in new interviews, expanding on themes workers have previously detailed in recent years. The three workers drive for various Amazon Delivery Service Partners, or DSPs, around the country. Insider has verified their identities and jobs but is withholding full names at their request over fear of retaliation by the company.

The drivers say usual package loads can be anywhere from 170 to 375 packages a day on a regular shift, not just during Prime week. At times, their scheduled stops can come out to more than 190. For busy shifts, the drivers confirmed what others have said before: that peeing in water bottles is sometimes just a part of the job - not unlike many other drivers have complained about over the years to stay on pace and meet high delivery quotas.

"I resort to peeing in bottles, and women urinate through funnels into bottles, just so I'm able to get done with my deliveries," Valerie G, a driver for one of Amazon's Delivery Service Partners (DSP), told Insider. "Those conditions are extremely unsanitary, and we are there with all those packages and our own urine and bodily fluids. That's unsanitary for the customers receiving the packages."

Another driver previously told Insider's Kate Taylor and Avery Hartmans earlier this year that having her period at work was a "nightmare," and she had no choice but to change her pad in the back of the delivery van.

"It just seems like a giant war between us and Amazon that Amazon started," Ryan, another driver for a DSP, told Insider. "Ultimately, Amazon will win because they have the power to let go of and control anyone: Driver's, DSP's, anyone."

Amazon has long denied the water bottle claims, at times finding itself in tussles with activists and politicians. "You don't really believe the peeing in bottles thing, do you? If that were true, nobody would work for us," the company's PR account tweeted to Wisconsin Rep. Mark Pocan in March.

The company later walked back the comments, saying: "We owe an apology to Representative Pocan ... The tweet was incorrect. It did not contemplate our large driver population and instead wrongly focused only on our fulfillment centers."

Reached for this story, an Amazon spokesperson told Insider that Amazon supports delivery drivers taking breaks as needed, and the company is working with its delivery partners to "find solutions to these issues."

"We support drivers taking the time they need to take breaks in between stops and drivers can use the Amazon Delivery app to see nearby restroom facilities and gas stations," a spokesperson for Amazon told Insider." Our routes are scheduled to include break and lunch times, which still allows over 90% of routes to finish earlier than the planned shift length. Our drivers, like others across the industry, do face the challenge of finding available public restroom facilities and we continue to work closely with our delivery partners to find solutions to these issues."

Still, the issues persist even as different drivers take over vans between shifts, the drivers said.

"I have driven vans that smelled so bad of urine and have found bottles full of urine in the vans before," Valerie said. "The worst part is being forced to eat in the same van due to the time constraints."

© Valerie G, Amazon delivery driver A bottle of pee that Valerie G, an Amazon delivery driver found in a delivery truck. 

Drivers say it's 'impossible' to take breaks for food and water

Another driver told Insider that taking proper breaks and staying on time for deliveries has become such a struggle that he has to eat and drive with one hand.

"Managing proper breaks is impossible because of the extremely high package count and stops, it makes it impossible to pull over to eat, so often times I drive and eat with one hand - it feels very dangerous, especially driving the huge box trucks," Ryan said. "I'm extremely fed up and mentally broken from my time here. It changed my personality."

Such high pressure appears to be having an impact on Amazon's worker turnover rate. The New York Times reported earlier this year that Amazon's turnover rate was nearly double the industry average. That may not be a surprise for some experts, who say the effects of hard physical labor with little to no reward can be extremely detrimental for someone's mental and physical health.

"If you work really long hours and you're not really getting fulfilled, and you're not getting the kind of rewards that helps you sustain a really busy lifestyle, you get physically tired," Michael Leiter, a psychology professor at Acadia University in Nova Scotia, told Insider. "Stomach problems, cardiac problems, all that kind of stuff, starts building on people, then they're stuck in that state. So physically and mentally, it's very hard on people."

Drivers say they've voiced their concerns, but no action is ever taken

"I've voiced a ton of concerns to my managers, but it's basically venting," Ryan said. "I know they don't technically have the power to make my concerns, Amazon's problem because like driver's, DSP's are expendable and replaceable as well."

Ryan said he's tried to figure out ways to make the job better for him and his coworkers but thinks Amazon and his DSP don't mind high churn rates.

"They don't mind a fast turnover because when people stick around, they start to learn too much about it. They start to acquire injuries," he said. "They start to get frustrated and talk."

An Amazon driver for a different DSP previously told Insider's Hayley Peterson he was given no sympathy from his supervisor when he cut his finder during his delivery route. The manager "advised him to drop them [packages] all off before returning to the station or seeking care."

The sources for this story agree: "DSPs have become careless. We are disposable to them," Valerie said. "They treat us without any dignity and very inhumanely.

BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT LIBERALS DO

Northwest B.C. MLA calls on province to intervene in Rio Tinto Kitimat strike

Skeena BC Liberal MLA Ellis Ross is asking the provincial government to intervene into the strike between Rio Tinto and its 950 unionized workers at its Kitimat aluminum smelter, now in its second week.

Ross, who is also one of the BC Liberal leadership candidates, wants the province to “encourage” both parties – Unifor Local 2301 representing the workers and Rio Tinto – to get back to the table and continue negotiations.

“I don’t want to see Kitimat going into decline and I don’t want to see people suffering to make mortgage payments,” said Ross pointing toward the economic impact the strike has not just on Rio Tinto employees but for northwestern businesses and communities.

“The whole supply chain is affected by the strike,” said Ross about the ripple effects of the strike on the local businesses in Kitimat, Terrace and Prince Rupert.

Calling the strike a “significant one” since no resolutions have been reached yet, Ross also said that the sooner the dispute can be resolved it’s better for the communities in northwest B.C.

Ross, who hails from Kitamaat Village, reached back to a previous smelter strike in 1976, saying that labour disputes have significant impacts on families because of lost wages.

He also said that though the provincial government keeps away from local strikes – like it did when Vancouver Island forestry workers went on strike in 2019 – this is different as the province has a stake in what happens in Kitimat because of the interconnections between Rio Tinto’s hydro-electric generating capacity and BC Hydro.

The smelter’s operations has a direct impact on managing the water levels in the Nechako reservoir.

In an email statement, a Rio Tinto spokesperson said the company is focused on ensuring the BC Works (Kitimat) aluminium smelter continues to operate safely and on maintaining stable water management through their Kemano hydroelectric power station, with a reduced workforce.

The provincial government is aware of the dispute and said that it is monitoring its progress but has not indicated that it will intervene in the matter.

"Our government fully supports the collective bargaining process... We are hopeful the parties can resolve their collective bargaining dispute by getting back to the bargaining table as soon as possible," said the ministry," said B.C.'s Ministry of Labour in an email statement.

Rio Tinto employs approximately 1,050 people at the BC Works smelter and Kemano powerhouse, including around 900 employees represented by Unifor Local 2301. The company contributed C$780 million to the economy of British Columbia in 2020.

The July 25 strike commenced after negotiations failed between both parties to reach a collective agreement on the matters of employee benefits.

On July 26, Rio Tinto confirmed it began reducing production of aluminum at its Kitimat smelter to 25 per cent of its normal 432,000 tonne annual capacity and will be working with 265 non-union staff until the labour dispute between it and Unifor Local 2301, is resolved.

Out of the 400 pots, the company had announced earlier that they will only be running roughly around 140 pots (35 per cent capacity) until a new collective agreement is finalized. However, earlier this week Rio Tinto reduced production further down to 96 pots, said a spokesperson in an email statement.

No details have been provided as to what’s involved in contract talks save for the union which published information stating the company was proposing a series of benefits reductions.

Rio Tinto has denied that allegation but has not provided details on what it did propose.

Union members, provided they carry out picketing, are entitled to $300 per week through a national Unifor strike fund and an additional $100 a week through a Local 2301 fund.

-With files from Jacob Lubberts

Binny Paul, Local Journalism Initiative Reporter, Terrace Standard

NO CONSULTATION!

CFLPA disapproves of CFL's COVID cancellation plan

The CFL Players' Association is not amused with the league's COVID-19 cancellation policy.

© Provided by The Canadian Press

The CFL unveiled its policy regarding if COVID-19 issues force game cancellations this year on Tuesday.

The union issued a communique to its membership Thursday saying it was "startled by, and disapproving of," the policy's contents and believed it was, "unreasonable and will not stand the scrutiny of an arbitration board."

The CFL didn't play in 2020 due to the global COVID-19 pandemic. It is scheduled to kick off a 14-game season Thursday night in Winnipeg with the Hamilton Tiger-Cats visiting the Blue Bombers in a rematch of the '19 Grey Cup game that was won by the Bombers.

Under the CFL policy, if a contest is cancelled because of COVID-19 issues and can't be rescheduled, the club suffering from the COVID-19 issues will forfeit a 1-0 loss. Should both squads have issues, they'll forfeit the game and be assigned losses.

In either scenario, if a team can prove at least 85 per cent of its players under contract have been vaccinated, at least once, the players will receive their salary for the cancelled game. If that figure falls below 85 per cent, players won't be paid.

The CFL also stated when teams made their final cuts last Friday, 79 per cent of players were fully or partially vaccinated and that three clubs had better than an 85 per cent vaccination rate among their players.

The rates of the remaining six, it stated, ranged between 67 to 81 per cent. The league also stated its latest COVID-19 testing, from July 15-July 30, showed no positive results from the approximately 6,000 tests carried on on players, coaches and support staff.

In the letter, the CFLPA told players that the union, through its counsel, had responded to the CFL.

"The CFLPA has reviewed the league's Aug. 1 policy regarding game cancellations due to COVID issues," it wrote. "The CFLPA is startled by, and disapproving of its contents.

"The union believes the CFL's policy is unreasonable and will not stand the scrutiny of an arbitration board."

And the CFLPA made it clear if games are cancelled, it has the right to grieve the merits of the policy.

"Like the CFL, the CFLPA is hopeful games may be rescheduled, but not cancelled this season." the union wrote. "However, should that arise, the CFL is on notice that the CFLPA reserves the right to grieve the lawfulness of the policy and its application."

The CFL policy also included other guidelines for cancellations. They are:

— The staging of the game being precluded by a decision from a government health authority;

— A team not having 36 players to dress for the game;

— A team not having individuals available to coach the offence and defence;

— A team not having a certified athletic therapist and sports medicine physician available for a contest.

CFL commissioner Randy Ambrosie can also cancel a game at his discretion following consultation with the CFL’s chief medical officers and CFLPA.

"Our goal this year, as it has been for the past 20 months, is to have a safe and healthy season under the present circumstances," the union wrote to members. "We will not waver from that focus, while at the same time protecting our membership's rights."

This report by The Canadian Press was first published Aug. 5, 2021.

Dan Ralph, The Canadian Press

REST IN POWER

AFL-CIO President Richard Trumka has died, Democrats say

WASHINGTON (AP) — Richard Trumka, the powerful president of the AFL-CIO labor union, has died, Democratic leaders said Thursday

.

© Provided by The Canadian Press

News of his death was announced by President Joe Biden and Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer.

“The working people of America have lost a fierce warrior at a time when we needed him most,” Schumer said from the Senate floor.

Biden called Trumka “a close friend” who was “more than the head of AFL-CIO.” He apologized for showing up late to a meeting with Asian American, Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islander civil rights leaders, saying he had just learned Trumka had died.

Further details of Trumka’s death were not immediately available. The AFL-CIO did not immediately return messages seeking comment.

Trumka oversaw a union with more than 12.5 million members, according to the AFL-CIO's website.

A longtime labor leader, Trumka was elected in 1982 at age 33 as the youngest president of the United Mine Workers of America.

There, he led a successful strike against the Pittston Coal Company, which tried to avoid paying into an industrywide health and pension fund, the union's website said.

Eulogies quickly poured out from Democrats in Congress.

“Richard Trumka dedicated his life to the labor movement and the right to organize," House Speaker Nancy Pelosi said in a statement. “Richard’s leadership transcended a single movement, as he fought with principle and persistence to defend the dignity of every person.”

Brian Slodysko, The Associated Press

#CRYPTOZOOLOGY   #CRYPTID
People Say They've Seen #Bigfoot — 

Can We Really Rule Out That Possibility?
Matt Blitz 

POPMECH

5/8/2021

The film is mostly three-and-a-half minutes of grainy fall foliage, men riding horses, and jerky pans. The famous footage—used for decades afterward in every documentary about whether Bigfoot is real or fake—comes across as just someone having fun with their new camera. But, about two minutes in, the lens of a rented 16mm Cine Kodak camera catches something strange

.

© Bettmann - Getty Images Is Bigfoot real? For centuries, people have reportedly seen this mythical, huge primate-like animal in the woods of North America. Here's what we know.

“We were just riding out alongside the creek, riding along enjoying the warm sunshine day,” says Bob Gimlin. “Then, across the creek, there was one standing. Everything happened so fast.”

What Gimlin's camera sees is a strange, large ape-like figure limbering on its hind legs across a clearing. For a brief moment, the animal appears to look directly at the camera, and, then, it’s gone. This is the famed Patterson-Gimlin film reportedly shot in October 1967 in the heavily wooded forests of Northern California, and it is one of the most heavily analyzed pieces of film in American history.






To some, this is definitive proof that Bigfoot is as real as mountain gorillas or narwhals. For others, it’s a hoax alongside videos claiming to show ghosts, aliens, and lizard people. But Gimlin knows exactly what he saw that day. “It walked upright and for quite a long ways. It didn’t look like a bear. I’ve been in the woods my whole life,” 86-year-old Gimlin tells Popular Mechanics. “There’s no doubt in my mind at all what it was.”
A Centuries-Old Tale

© David McNew - Getty Images Pictographs at the Carrizo Plain National Monument belonging to the Yokut aboriginal tribe in Central California.

This elusive, possibly fictitious animal goes by a number of different names—Bigfoot, Sasquatch, Yowie, Skunk Ape, Yayali—and for centuries, people across North America have had sightings.

Many Native American cultures have written oral legends that tell of a primate-type creature roaming the continent's forests. In these tales, the animals are sometimes more human-like and, other times, more ape-like. In the mythology of the Kwakiutl tribe that once heavily populated the western coast of British Columbia, Dzunukwa is a big, hairy female that lives deep in the mountainous forests.

According to the legend, she spends most of her time protecting her children and sleeping, hence why she’s rarely seen. In fact, the name “Sasquatch” comes from Halkomelem, a language spoken by several First Nation peoples that occupied the upper Northwest into British Columbia.

In California, there are century-old pictographs drawn by the Yokuts that appear to show a family of giant creatures with long, shaggy hair. Called “Mayak datat” by the tribe, the image bears a resemblance to the commonly held vision of Bigfoot.

“Some tribes really love Bigfoot, they have a great relationship with him,” says Kathy Moskowitz Strain, author of the book Giants, Cannibals & Monsters: Bigfoot in Native Culture and archaeologist with the U.S. Forest Service. “To other tribes though, like the Miwoks, he’s an absolute ogre, a monster, and something best left alone.”

To this day, Strain says, many of the tribesmen she does field research with believe that Bigfoot walks among us. “I’ve been in the field with tribal members where something strange happens and they always blame it on a Bigfoot,” says Strain.

There’s Bear Men in Them Hills

© Bettmann - Getty Images A still from the famous Patterson–Gimlin film, 1967.

Native Americans weren’t the only ones seeing this hairy, primate creature roaming the wilds of America. Nineteenth- and early 20th-century newspapers had whole sections devoted to the miners, trappers, gold prospectors, and woodsmen claiming to have seen “wild men,” “bear men,” and “monkey men.”

Most famously, in 1924, a group of prospectors hunkering down in a cabin along the shoulder of Mount St. Helen in Washington State claimed they were attacked late one night by a group of “ape-men.” Later, one of the prospectors admitted that they weren’t unprovoked attacks. He had taken potshots at the creatures earlier in the day.

Even then, as noted in Chad Arment’s 2006 book Historical Bigfoot, these accounts like the ones from the prospectors in 1924 were often regarded with a general sense of skepticism often due to the unreliable nature of the witnesses.

© Placerville Mountain Democrat - Wikimedia Commons 1895 article describing a grizzly bear with the nickname "Bigfoot."

“It’s hard to know what came out of the bottom of a whiskey bottle and what’s real,” says former NPR producer Laura Krantz, who’s a host of the new podcast Wild Thing, which digs deep into the search for Bigfoot.

There were also times when one animal was confused for another, possibly explaining the origin of the name “Bigfoot.” Newspaper accounts show that“Bigfoot” was a common nickname for particularly large, aggressive grizzly bears who ate cattle, sheep, and attacked humans. It wasn’t until 1958 when a California tractor operator named Jerry Crew “found” a series of huge muddy footprints that the term was popularized in reference to the primate-like animals.

That same year, another man named Ray Wallace also said he had discovered large prints belonging to Bigfoot. Upon his death in 2002, it was revealed that this was a hoax.

Sasquatch Goes Mainstream

 Kevin Schafer - Getty Images Neon at Night

It was in the mid 20th century when Bigfoot stepped from local lore to national phenomenon.

In 1961, naturalist Ivan T. Sanderson published his book Abominable Snowmen: Legend Come to Life. In the book, Sanderson uses footprints, eye witnesses, and bone samples as potential evidence of “sub-humans” living on five continents across the world, including North America’s Sasquatch and the Himalayas’ Yeti (though others believe that the Yeti is a totally different species).

Sanderson’s work caught enough people’s attention that William Straus, a well-regarded primate evolutionary biologist at John Hopkins University, reviewed it for Science Magazine, saying Sanderson’s standards for evidence are “unbelievably low” and that the evidence is “anything but convincing.”

Nonetheless, Strauss admits it would be foolish and quite unscientific to say that the creatures Sanderson describes absolutely don’t exist.

ONE OF THE FOUNDATIONAL WORKS OF CRYPTOZOOLOGY

© Chilton Original cover of Ivan T. Sanderson’s book Abominable Snowman: Legend Come To Life.

Sanderson’s book was followed by the Patterson–Gimlin film six years later. Gimlin says it happened so fast that he considers himself and Roger Patterson pretty lucky that they were able to get any footage at all of the hairy, mythical animal lumbering along only yards away from them.

When he watched the footage for the first time a few days later, Gimlin was pretty pessimistic that this would be enough to convince anyone. “I didn’t think the film was that good. I saw it [with my two eyes] better than that,” says Gimlin. Yet, it became a phenomenon.

Some, like former director of the primate biology program at the Smithsonian Institution John Napier, saw it as a well-done, elaborate hoax. But not everyone saw it that way, including Grover Krantz.

A professor of physical anthropology at Washington State University and “a leading authority in hominoid evolution” and primate bone structures, Krantz also believed in Sasquatch. His unwavering belief came from eyewitnesses, the creature’s gait in the Patterson–Gimlin film, and, most importantly, the anatomical structure of found footprints. It was the dermal ridges, where sweat pores open on palms and soles, depicted in the prints that left him convinced that at least some were authentic.

His working theory was that Sasquatch was part of the hominid family, the same one humans shared with apes, and was a descendant of thought-to-be-long-extinct humongous primate species that once lived in Asia appropriately named Gigantopithecus. At some point, million of years ago, it had crossed the Bering Strait when it was still a land bridge into North America and evolved into its own species on this continent.

“Grover was eclectic. That’s a good word describe him,” says Jeff Meldrum, author of the book Sasquatch: Legend Meets Science, a professor of anatomy at Idaho State University, and a one-time colleague of Krantz’s. “There were many ideas that he had that were a decade or two ahead of his time and…when he pursued some of these ideas, he would be ridiculed.”

When asked about the possibility of Sasquatch existing, Krantz was always unequivocal, saying that he “guaranteed” it.

Family Ties

© Bettmann - Getty Images Grover Krantz with casts of footprints supposedly belonging to Sasquatch, 1974.

Krantz’s conviction in Bigfoot didn’t help his academic career, though. Passed over for promotions and nearly missing receiving tenure at Washington State, he knew the only way he would be able to convince his colleagues of this primate’s existence was by producing a body.

So, Krantz was known to spend his nights in the middle of the Pacific Northwest old growth forests with a shotgun quite literally hunting Bigfoot. He rationalized this by saying it was the only way to get the scientific community to believe him and that, technically, it wasn’t against the law.

“It has not yet been established that the Sasquatch exists,” Krantz once wrote. “To pass laws against harming sasquatches presently makes little more sense than protecting unicorns.”

Krantz died in 2002 as a complex figure in the eyes of the scientific community, highly respected for his work in primate evolution yet mocked for his belief in Bigfoot. However, during Krantz’s life and after it, the search for Bigfoot took on a life of its own. More sightings, films, and books, some from respected researchers, emerged. Bigfoot documentaries captured the public’s imagination. Harry lived with the Hendersons and entertained the masses. Even Jane Goodall, the famed chimpanzee expert, admits that there’s a possibility that a undiscovered large primate may exist in the world.

In 2006, Laura Krantz, at the time an NPR reporter based in D.C., read an article about the quirky anthropologist who shared her last name. “It originally didn’t ring any bells…he just seemed like an eccentric weirdo.”

But, then, she saw that he was also from Salt Lake City, like her father’s family—they were related. As Krantz’s grandfather told her at the time, “Oh, yeah. Grover. That was my cousin. He used to come to the family picnics and measure people’s heads with a caliper.” This began Krantz’s own journey into the wilderness in search of Bigfoot, which she documented for her new podcast Wild Thing, which aired its first episode on October 2, 2018.

She acknowledges, much like her cousin Grover, that without a body (or skeleton), it’s hard to convince others that this long-lost primate still exists in North America’s backwoods. “A lot of people who think Bigfoot is out there, they realize…that there’s a lack of evidence,” says Krantz. “The kind of real proof that would actually make people sit up and take notice doesn’t actually exist at this point.”

But the things she’s observed during her research for the podcast has changed her mind about the possibility of Bigfoot.

“I went from ‘Bigfoot is a legend’ to I can’t just say out of hand that Bigfoot never existed or doesn’t exist now,” says Krantz. “I can’t fully dismiss it anymore.”

Remains of Giant Vampire Bat From 100,000 Years Ago Found in Argentinian Cave

Artist's impression of D. draculae in sloth burrow. (Museo de Miramar)

The jawbone of a bat that lived 100,000 years ago has been confirmed as belonging to an extinct species of giant vampire bat.

The discovery of the jawbone of the species Desmodus draculae, found in a cave in Argentina, is helping fill in the huge gaps in the history of these amazing animals, and could provide some clues as to why these bats eventually died out

Bats today are extremely diverse. They constitute roughly 20 percent of all known mammal species, which is really quite a sizable chunk, after exploding onto the scene around 50 million years ago.

You might think, therefore, that the fossil record is filled with bats, and that charting their evolutionary history and diversification would have much data to draw on.

You'd be incorrect. The bat fossil record is notoriously poor and patchy. Which means that every discovery is valuable – especially when it comes to vampire bats.

"They are the only family of bats in the world [that] arouses curiosity from the legends of the Transylvania and its creepy Count Dracula," said paleontologist Mariano Magnussen of the Paleontological Laboratory of the Miramar Museum of Natural Sciences in Argentina.

"But in reality they are peaceful animals that feed on the blood of animals, and sometimes humans, for a few minutes without causing discomfort... The only bad thing is that they can transmit rabies or other diseases if they are infected. Surely their prehistoric representatives had similar behaviors."

Today, just three of the roughly 1,400 known bat species are vampire bats, or Desmodontinae – those that live solely on the blood of other creatures, known as hematophages.

All three can only be found in Central and South America: the common vampire bat (Desmodus rotundus), the hairy-legged vampire bat (Diphylla ecaudata), and the white-winged vampire bat (Diaemus youngi).

These three species seem very closely related, which suggests that hematophagy only evolved once in bats, and that all vampire bat species – extant and extinct – all diverged from a common ancestor.

Fossils from extinct vampire bat species can help us unravel why today's species survived. And the new D. draculae discovery has a lot of significance for a small bone.

The D. draculae jawbone. (Museo de Miramar)

"The significance of the fossils are several, to start with, fossil bat remains are rare in Argentina," paleontologist Santiago Brizuela of the National University of Mar del Plata in Argentina told ScienceAlert.

"It also confirms the presence of the species at mid latitudes and during the Pleistocene (the only other material of the species in Argentina is isolated but much younger). This is one of the oldest records, it is unknown in the Pliocene."

We've known about the existence of D. draculae since it was first formally described in 1988, although we don't know much more about it. It lived during the Pleistocene in Central and South America, up until fairly recently: some remains have been discovered that are recent enough not to have fossilized, suggesting that it may only have died out a few hundred years ago.

It was also the largest vampire bat known to have existed – it was around 30 percent larger than its closest living relative, today's common vampire bat, with a wingspan estimated to be around 50 centimeters (20 inches).

The jawbone is certainly special. It was recovered from Pleistocene-era sediments in a cave not far from the Buenos Aires town of Miramar. This is important because, at the time the bat lived, the cave was the burrow of a giant sloth, likely of the Mylodontidae family.

This could be a huge clue as to how the bats lived. Some researchers think that D. draculae fed on rodents or deer, but others suspect that its prey was megafauna. Finding remains of a bat so closely associated with Mylodontidae habitat could mean that the latter is correct.

If so, this would be consistent with theories that the bat species declined following the extinction of megafauna around 10,000 years ago – although, with just a single specimen, it's impossible to make a definitive ruling.

"This has two possibilities," Brizuela said. "One, that it lived there and also preyed on the inhabitants; the other possibility is that [the bat] was owl prey and was regurgitated in the cave."

Finally, the fossil could reveal something about the ancient climate of the region. The common vampire bat makes its home around 400 kilometers (250 miles) north of where the remains were discovered. This suggests, the researchers say, that the climate of the fossil site was different 100,000 years ago from what it is like today.

In turn, this suggests that the decline and eventual extinction of D. draculae likely had multiple contributing factors – not just prey unavailability, but an increasingly inhospitable climate.

The team's research has been published in Ameghiniana.