The BFRO’s estimate, apparently based on the estimating model used by wildlife biologists, says very, very rare. But then, sightings are widespread. And if you go for – as I intuitively do – the idea that the reports are just the tip of the iceberg, you start to wonder how rare they could be. The locations of reports, and the anecdotal evidence of what they eat, seem to indicate an animal that is much less a specialist than the other apes, save one, of course, an animal that can live in swamps, in virgin forest, and on cutover land, among other things, and that can survive on what it finds in its travels, even in desert and on arctic tundra.

Yes, the evidence is mainly anecdotal. But I’m not the only one who finds it not only compelling, but a possible indicator of an animal that’s not exactly rare.

Back to the population issue, I think 100,000 is very high. With the enormous resources required to support such populations of animals this size, I just think that more tell tale concrete evidence would have turned up by now if the numbers were that high. If there are really that many out there, then it is harder for me to explain why we wouldn’t have turned up more than we have or seen more obvious effects of their activities on the ecosystem. My thoughts on this change all the time, but I tend to favor the idea of a remote, elusive, smaller population. I’ll admit though, off the serious scientific speculation, that the idea of 100,000 of them roaming around out there is pretty awesome.

Evidence unearthed at Lake Turkana in Kenya in 2000 may actually indicate that Homo erectus and Homo habilis, once thought to be sequential steppingstones to modern humans, cohabited the planet for something like half a million years. Toss that in the hopper with the “hobbit” find and you may have this picture: A number of hominids, finding niches to coexist more or less successfully (peacefully? didn’t say that ) in the same ecosystems just the way that frogs, lizards, songbirds and rodents, among others, do.

Chew on that for a while, and maybe the sasquatch doesn’t look like such a model-buster. Nor does a sizable population of them.

The one thing I know for sure: Mr. Perez has shown that having a formal education doesn’t mean one cannot do research and make great contributions. He is a pretty sharp fellow.

Right now, I too can see the merit in following up on the evidence that we do have, and even partaking in speculation on things such as sasquatch population figures. I see no reason at this time to let the paradigm dictate all research that is done, for what is science for if not to learn more about the world than we know now? I value the scientists out there thinking outside the box.

Isaac Asimov once said something that I really like and think is fitting in this discussion. He said “The most exciting phrase to hear in science, the one that heralds new discoveries, is not ‘Eureka’, but ‘That’s funny…’”

Food for thought.

I’d be shocked if the number all around reached above four digits.

No way.

Check this link for info on Great Ape populations.

I would guess that the N. American population of these animals stands around 3000 or less.

I believe they are unfortunately on their way to extinction…

In one of our past discussions with rbhess, he was talking about how scientific models say the sas is unlikely to be in North America because we don’t have a fossil record of higher primates here, nor is there a fossil record of what might be considered sas antecedents anywhere (unless one counts gigantos and paranthropus which aren’t of course in NA). If I misunderstood rbhess I’m sure he’ll be on here to correct me. Personally, I don’t think that scientific models can properly be made on what we don’t see, or haven’t seen yet, but only on what we do, so I would argue that there are no models saying the sas does, doesn’t, or “probably” does or doesn’t exist. We just haven’t seen anything, yet, on which any kind of model could be based; we only base models on what we have seen to exist, which puts the sas “beyond the pale” of any scientific model.

Which is where we come to paradigms.

I think what you are saying shows how paradigms and models are different. A model doesn’t pass, one way or another, on what hasn’t been proven to exist. It simply says, here’s what we have. If we find something new, we try to fit it to the model; and if it doesn’t fit, then the model may need to be changed. A paradigm, on the other hand, is the thinking, or the direction of thinking and, ipso facto, funding, that results from the model. If the model doesn’t say, higher nonhuman primates exist in the temperate zone, then research into their existence just isn’t going to be smiled upon, until strong evidence that indicates that the model may need to be expanded surfaces.

OK, major rethinking taking place while I write. Hate it when that happens.

Model and paradigm could be seen as exactly the same thing: here’s what we have (so far as we know). Not what we don’t, or probably don’t, have; only what we do. But research is going to follow the lines of what we think we have, and can anticipate finding based on what we have (e.g., new species of sea life in an undocumented area of ocean) and is going to have a tough time getting support unless there is strong evidence that something not supported (i.e., addressed) by the paradigm is, indeed, out there. For example, a 300-foot-long baleen whale that feeds at 20,000 feet isn’t supported by what we know about cetaceans. But you can bet that if a submersible at that depth locates what seems to be one, that thinking might be due for revision soon.

Summing up: there is nothing that is compelling science to corroborate the sasquatch. Maybe this is all to the good. Paradigms can be seen as imposing research discipline. Maybe it’s more important for scientists to funnel research into following up on the hints we’ve gotten about, say, interesting behaviors observed by field researchers in known primates. But if George Schaller came back from an expedition with an intriguing memory card of shots, maybe that would change.