Monks Seek Homes for St. Bernard Rescue Dogs
ST. BERNARD PASS, Switzerland - Switzerland's St. Bernard rescue dogs, known for centuries for saving avalanche victims from snowy Alpine graves, are to be sold by their monk owners as helicopters and heat sensors take over their work.
At St. Bernard's hospice, cradle of the breed, Augustinian monks want to devote more time to needy people and less to the 18 dogs -- which will be sold only to new owners who promise to bring them back each year.
"They (the dogs) need a lot of time and energy. There are only four of us monks now," said Brother Frederic, perched on a rock with a St. Bernard by his side.
"Maybe we need to spend more time with people who ask for it," he added.
At an altitude of 2,438 meters (8,000 ft), the home of the St. Bernards is an Alpine pass on the route to Italy where the huge, shaggy dogs are said to have saved the lives of some 2,500 travelers over the past few centuries.
"Even if there was 2 or 3 meters of fresh snow, they were able to make a track in the snow so travelers could find their way, they could also find travelers lost in avalanches," Brother Frederic said.
But the dogs, which eat up to four and a half pounds of meat a day, have not rescued anyone for 50 years.
They will be sold to new owners willing to bring their charges back to the hospice for the summer, when tourists are eager to see the living symbols of Switzerland, and ensure the breed is continued.
"They're not being sold to just anyone. All that is changing with the dogs is the ownership," said Pierre Troillet, president of the Swiss St. Bernard Association, adding the dogs were no longer kept on the pass in winter in any case.
The dogs' history is entwined with that of the pass, where the Romans first built a temple to Jupiter as they marched north to conquer Europe, and where Charlemagne, Hannibal and Napoleon all left footprints in the snow.
St. Bernard himself built a hospice on the spot in the 11th century, and a community of monks formed to aid travelers and rescue avalanche victims.
The monks say the first dogs were probably a gift from rich local families to their predecessors, who took advantage of their keen noses, strength, sure-footedness and thick coats by the early 18th century.
The dogs could pick out narrow and treacherous paths in blizzards that disorientated even the native monks.
But with the progress of modern mountain rescue technology, the dogs have been pushed out of their traditional role in the mountains of Switzerland.
October 09, 2004
Bush and Kerry Put on a Lively Show
Friday's rematch between President Bush and John Kerry proved to be a livelier affair, and a more revealing show, than their first debate.
The big difference, of course, was the town-hall format that surrounded the two candidates with 140 voters, some of whom got to ask the questions they had brought.
"Hats off to these questioners," said NBC's Tim Russert afterward. "They framed this election and this debate better than I've ever seen before."
Another advantage: This 90-minute faceoff unleashed the presidential rivals from the lecterns of their first debate, to actually move about the floor with their wireless mikes and engage with the ordinary citizens before them.
Occasionally, they also engaged with each other in ways they opted not to do before.
"Saddam Hussein didn't have weapons of mass destruction, Mr. President," Kerry said sharply to Bush in one early confrontation.
This was a much-awaited second act, after the Sept. 30 debate in Miami, where Kerry was widely credited with outperforming Bush.
In the theater-in-the-round at Washington University in St. Louis, ABC News' Charles Gibson, the moderator, served smoothly. With schoolmasterish half-frames propped on his nose, he identified each questioner, then let the exchange happen. Occasionally, he voiced a followup question.
Both candidates seemed to relish the chance to play to a group (and, afterward, to do what politicians do best, shake hands with everybody).
Kerry seemed quite at home with the format. Bush, clearly improved from the first debate, was fired up, too, though at times overheated in his delivery. After listening to Kerry at one point, he bulldozed through Gibson's setup, declaring, "I gotta answer this," and never looked back.
As with the first debate, reaction shots were interesting to note.
Again, Kerry appeared composed, often scribbling notes as Bush responded to questions.
Bush, who during the first debate had often been caught by the cameras looking peeved at things Kerry said, made a joking reference to it Friday: "That answer," he said when Kerry finished one response, "almost made me want to scowl."
Even so, he was still hardput to suppress displays of annoyance. At times he was seen in close-up listening with eyes narrowed and lips pursed.
Along with learning what the candidates had to say and how they would say it, at least a few viewers came to Friday's debate with an odd but tantalizing issue in mind: The cut of Bush's jacket across his back. Soon enough, they concluded it was smooth and well-tailored.
This was in contrast to the first debate, when a rear-positioned camera glimpsed what, in replay, looked to be a rectangular lump between the President's shoulder blades and even a cord traveling up to his right shoulder.
Just a happenstance pucker in the fabric? Or was it a hidden receiver equipping Bush to take cues through a hidden earpiece from someone offstage? That was the rumor zipping across the Internet, as reported by the webzine Salon.com.
The White House denied that Bush had been wired.
After Friday night, suspicious viewers would have to probe elsewhere for intrigue.
Friday's rematch between President Bush and John Kerry proved to be a livelier affair, and a more revealing show, than their first debate.
The big difference, of course, was the town-hall format that surrounded the two candidates with 140 voters, some of whom got to ask the questions they had brought.
"Hats off to these questioners," said NBC's Tim Russert afterward. "They framed this election and this debate better than I've ever seen before."
Another advantage: This 90-minute faceoff unleashed the presidential rivals from the lecterns of their first debate, to actually move about the floor with their wireless mikes and engage with the ordinary citizens before them.
Occasionally, they also engaged with each other in ways they opted not to do before.
"Saddam Hussein didn't have weapons of mass destruction, Mr. President," Kerry said sharply to Bush in one early confrontation.
This was a much-awaited second act, after the Sept. 30 debate in Miami, where Kerry was widely credited with outperforming Bush.
In the theater-in-the-round at Washington University in St. Louis, ABC News' Charles Gibson, the moderator, served smoothly. With schoolmasterish half-frames propped on his nose, he identified each questioner, then let the exchange happen. Occasionally, he voiced a followup question.
Both candidates seemed to relish the chance to play to a group (and, afterward, to do what politicians do best, shake hands with everybody).
Kerry seemed quite at home with the format. Bush, clearly improved from the first debate, was fired up, too, though at times overheated in his delivery. After listening to Kerry at one point, he bulldozed through Gibson's setup, declaring, "I gotta answer this," and never looked back.
As with the first debate, reaction shots were interesting to note.
Again, Kerry appeared composed, often scribbling notes as Bush responded to questions.
Bush, who during the first debate had often been caught by the cameras looking peeved at things Kerry said, made a joking reference to it Friday: "That answer," he said when Kerry finished one response, "almost made me want to scowl."
Even so, he was still hardput to suppress displays of annoyance. At times he was seen in close-up listening with eyes narrowed and lips pursed.
Along with learning what the candidates had to say and how they would say it, at least a few viewers came to Friday's debate with an odd but tantalizing issue in mind: The cut of Bush's jacket across his back. Soon enough, they concluded it was smooth and well-tailored.
This was in contrast to the first debate, when a rear-positioned camera glimpsed what, in replay, looked to be a rectangular lump between the President's shoulder blades and even a cord traveling up to his right shoulder.
Just a happenstance pucker in the fabric? Or was it a hidden receiver equipping Bush to take cues through a hidden earpiece from someone offstage? That was the rumor zipping across the Internet, as reported by the webzine Salon.com.
The White House denied that Bush had been wired.
After Friday night, suspicious viewers would have to probe elsewhere for intrigue.
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