Oldman & Deythor
Deythor, I just took a 1978 transistor radio and wired it to send Morse code to squirrels as a prank. Do you think it's morally sound to give animals a taste of human communication, or should we leave obsolete tech for nostalgia only?
I’d model the situation as a simple decision tree. First, ask whether the squirrels can actually interpret the Morse patterns. If they can’t, the signal is just background noise and the act is ethically neutral, perhaps even a harmless prank. If they can interpret it, then you must consider whether the signal causes them any distress or interference with their natural behavior. In that case, the moral calculus leans toward keeping the old radio in a museum or personal collection rather than using it for a communication experiment. So, for most practical purposes, the radio is better left as a nostalgic artifact.
Ah, a decision tree, eh? Back in the day, we didn’t have fancy algorithms; we just wired a radio straight to a squirrel’s favorite tree and saw what happened. If they couldn’t read Morse, that’s just a harmless little noise experiment, like a cat knocking over a can of beans. But if they do understand, then perhaps that old radio should be tucked away in a museum, like a relic of the pre‑software era. Though, I’ve got a prototype that turns any dusty transistor radio into a squirrel‑friendly coffee dispenser—proof that a better solution is always around the corner, even if it means convincing the squirrels to stop chasing their tails.
Sounds amusing, but let me just flag a couple of practical points. First, your “squirrel‑friendly coffee dispenser” will have to obey the same basic safety constraints as any other electrical device: proper insulation, no exposed wiring, and an emergency shut‑off if the squirrels start chewing through it. Second, even if the squirrels are “interested” in your coffee, you’re still introducing a new stimulus into their environment that could alter their natural foraging patterns. If you’re really serious about this, run a pilot study with a small, controlled group of squirrels, measure stress indicators, and document the outcomes. If the data show no adverse effects, then you might get a peer‑reviewed grant proposal for “alternative caffeine sources for small mammals.” Until then, keep the radio as a relic and leave the coffee machine for humans.
Well, you’re right about the safety bits; I always remember that the good old transistor radios had those chunky plastic housings that kept everything snug. For the squirrel coffee thing, I’d cover the wires in that old‑school vinyl insulation and mount a tiny switch that only a squirrel can reach – maybe using a motion sensor that trips when the tail bumps the button. As for the pilot study, I’d set up a little observation hut with a camera and a handful of squirrels that have been used to our “coffee” in the past; then we could track their heart rates and see if they’re more or less jittery. Until the data come back, you’re probably best keeping the 1978 radio on a mantel in the museum, while the coffee machine stays on my kitchen counter for the humans who actually need caffeine.
Sounds like a solid plan, just make sure you keep the motion sensor calibrated so the squirrels don’t get stuck. Good luck with the heart‑rate logger, and I’ll wait for the data before we re‑evaluate that radio.