Do you think you could give your opinions on the recessive / lethal yellow genes in mice? Do you think you'd ever consider breeding recessive yellow? (If you haven't already.)
I'm just super curious about your thoughts on them as I don't really know a lot about genetics. Do you think it's possible to breed a consistently healthy line of yellow mice?
I'm just super curious to hear your thoughts as a breeder
Well, this is a kind of long answer and I'll warn it discusses animal death, so I'll put it behind a cut.
Personally, I wouldn't, but not because of ethics concerns; I just don't like any of the colors made with RY/AY. They're just not visually appealing to me. I had a couple RY pop up from the Taylor black line when I first got it, and they were just enh. A good, rich red, esp a satin red, can be a really perfect looking mouse... but by god that's years of work and it never ends because Red is such a hard phenotype to maintain and I'm just not that determined. I'm convinced that people breed for red because seeing it opens all the ferret cages in their brain, not because they can be normal about it. If you want good reds, it's like you dedicate your life (and mousery) to it or you don't do it, and my life's already dedicated to the peafowl. My mousery is already dedicated to blacks and tricolors.
As for the AY gene itself, it's a "lethal" gene in that homozygosity is lethal but it's lethal at the blastocyst stage so it's not really an ethical problem imo. If it was lethal as in the pups deteriorate and die post partum, or if it caused well developed pups to die/be stillborn such that it caused the dam health risks, then it would be a problem. But, it doesn't. You just get smaller litters because some cells die way early on and get reabsorbed. I don't really have any problems with that. Show breeders cull litters down to 4-6 pups (for dam and pup health reasons), so it's not like all of them would be turning into adults anyway.
As for the genetic issues with the adult mice, there are three major health issues. The first is obesity (sort of), and the major problem there is keeping them in breeding shape (meaning, capable of doing the do at all). Curiously, in at least one study I remember seeing, there's a difference between an obese mouse of X color mutation and an AY that's considered obese because of its natural body type; for example, an obese black mouse will likely have a shortened lifespan, whereas an AY mouse doesn't (at least not less than any other mouse color mutation) unless it's obese for an AY. So this isn't really a problem as long as the breeder is watching their diet and ensuring they stay fit for their body type.
The other two genetic problems actually are health issues related directly to the AY gene, and that's being prone to diabetes and to tumors. However, these are both things that (any good) breeders would notice, cull, and therefore not breed forward, in order to keep the line as free from them as possible. Which really isn't any different than any other line that develops health problems of any sort. People don't keep health problems. A good breeder should be and usually is aware of the potential health problems in the lines they are breeding, particularly if it's a genetic one that can't be avoided (like you can't avoid AY if you're breeding AY), and will know what to look for and intervene as soon as possible. Diabetic mice urinate excessively so it's REALLY noticeable, and tumors... well. Hard to miss. And tumors of various sorts is a fairly common "select away from/cull" problem in any mutation, it's just slightly higher risk in AY.
So the short answer, in my opinion, AY isn't really an unethical gene to work with. It's not one I'd choose to work with, but I don't think the people who do are doing anything wrong just for working with the gene at all. It comes down to the same ethics as any other mutation; working to maintain body condition and selecting for health.
Honestly, out of all the animals I've seen bred and bred myself, I think mouse breeders in general have proven themselves to be the most concerned with what's best for the animal, not the breeder. The show clubs like FMBA and AFRMA etc won't recognize standards for things like snub noses or manx tails or anything else that would potentially seriously impact QoL by nature of existing at all, and at least in the groups I'm in, the members are not shy about recognizing when health problems mean no breeding for a mouse regardless of how pretty or sweet. When someone newer asks what to do, I've never seen anyone support trying to breed a mouse with issues, or usually even keep one whose QoL would be poor. They are very familiar with the kindest thing you can do is let them go. It's a breath of fresh air from the goddamn chicken groups, who will limp along any bird that's still breathing regardless of what's best for the bird.
I think the only morph I've seen that I have an ethical problem with is the X-brindle gene, which is a "brindle" gene on the X chromosome that causes the mouse to be unable to absorb copper. This means that the males DO founder and die after birth (which means most people just humanely euthanize the male pups, they aren't out here letting them suffer that I've seen), and females get a strange coat color and curled whiskers from low copper absorption. Does have a second X gene that's clean so they still can, but it's really an unnecessary mutation to continue imo. It hasn't been recognized by the show clubs that I know of, but idk if they can be shown under normal brindle or if you can tell at a glance, as I don't really know as much about them or any of the AY gene specifics. I have basic knowledge but since i don't breed them myself it's very in passing knowledge. I know it's rarely bred or worked with in the first place, and I hope it stays that way or disappears entirely.
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Personal Linebeck headcanons part 2
part one: x
(under cut since this is a bit long again)
He’s got fairly low empathy, but has made a point to try and make up for that by becoming perceptive and teaching himself what most facial expressions look like and what they mean. Still, he has trouble reading the room and catching onto when someone is hiding their feelings, and sometimes it just goes right over his head if he doesn’t care to look into it.
He technically doesn’t know how to fight, but if he does have to fight, he fights dirty and like a cornered animal. He has bitten multiple people.
He’s not great at filtering what he says; he curses extremely frequently and can get really nasty with people he hates.
He actually hates interacting with other people and despises the reputation he’s built for himself.
Similarly, his social skills are actually pretty bad. He doesn’t really know how to honestly interact with others since he’s used to defaulting to masking in front of others and mimicking them.
He has polydactyly, with six toes on each foot. They’re all functional and haven’t caused any issues, but it makes it hell for him to find fitting shoes.
He draws a lot and is a pretty good artist in his own right. On the other hand, his handwriting is downright atrocious.
He likes the rain better than any other kind of weather. He gets colds often since he sits out the rain for a little too long, but has a good time with it anyways.
Of the three spirits, he ends up liking Leaf the most, even trusting him a bit.
He’s of Gerudo descent, and has in his possession some old Gerudo books and stories. He can read and even speak a bit of the Gerudo language, and sometimes insults people in it- that way, he avoids retaliation since pretty much no one else knows the language.
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So for anyone who doesn’t keep up with nz politics, which i’m assuming is most of you, our new radical right government have decided one of their main aims of their term will be to re-interpret the Treaty of Waitangi.
The Treaty is an agreement between Maori and the Crown, now the NZ government. It is the founding document of new zealand and is recognised as a constitutional document today; it is the only treaty of its kind/time still honoured, and it is the steps we’ve taken through the Treaty to provide restitution and build an ongoing relationship with Maori and their iwi (tribes) that has allowed the relationship between Maori and the government to thrive where other indigenous groups have struggled to achieve recognition of their rights.
This is going to be entirely undone. Not only is this issue inflammatory and a threat to race relations in Aotearoa, leaked documents show the proposed “reinterpretation” wants to negate pretty much the entirety of the legal rights provided to Maori under the treaty. For example, the treaty article that guarantees land rights for Maori will be reinterpreted to guarantee land rights for “all New Zealanders”. Which means this article would be essentially meaningless for Maori.
By removing Maori from the context they are trying to put Maori on an “equal footing” with all New Zealanders; they are riding the idea that Maori have special rights and privileges above that of the average New Zealander. Obviously this is bullshit but it’s effective rhetoric and there’s a grain of truth to in that the extent of Maori rights hadn’t been clearly defined due to the ongoing nature of the process. So this has got a lot of people with a poor grasp of the issues very upset and baying for change.
There is a hui (meeting) being held today for all the iwi to begin discussions of how Maori will respond to this. New Zealand politics isn’t very interesting usually, but our progress on indigenous rights, until now, has been absolutely ahead of the field. If you care about indigenous rights globally, you should care about this, because in the same way Australia’s referendum loss has spurred on this action, the loss of rights here will spur other right wing governments to be similarly bold to their own indigenous groups.
Indigenous rights in New Zealand are under attack. They are meeting today to discuss it, and New Zealand will be listening, but I want the world to be listening. Because our government needs the shame of being called out by more than just the people who they’ve already decided don’t vote for them.
Maori have a long and proud history of fighting for their rights, and they’ll do it again here. And I’ll be on the pickets beside them, but there’ll be plenty of my own pickets to attend, because this government is radical in every sense of the word.
So please, even if you’re very far away, stand behind them in this. Keep your eyes on us. Amplify their voices. Don’t let the racism drown them out.
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protective ex-husband!simon, implied violence/break-in
“i know! and that’s when i told her-“ you paused, your hand halfway to the keys at the bottom of your purse. your apartment door was open, a menacing sliver of darkness awaiting you. “hey, i’m going to have to call you back.” you ended the call with your friend, slowly backing away from your door. shit. you knew you locked the door when you left for work, and no one else had a copy of your key. a creeping sensation came over you, like someone was watching from within. slowly, you retreated, taking the elevator down to your apartment’s lobby as the anxiety crawled through your body. you wracked your brain, wondering if you should call the police. wondering if they would even believe you. there was only one call to make.
“come on, pick up.” you tapped your foot impatiently as your ex husband took forever to answer the phone. it was all you could do to not think about your home being violated, about a potential stalker or date gone wrong.
“‘ello?”
“si- simon, it’s me.”
“i know, lovie. that’s why i picked up.” you let out a quiet sob of relief at his voice, the bottle on your emotions starting to leak.
“what’s wrong?” his voice changed, immediately hearing your silent tears. he could always read you too well. “i don’t want to bother you but” you hiccupped. shit. “but my apartment door was open and i’m pretty sure i closed it, i usually do. i don’t know if im being silly but now im in the lobby and im just scared, simon.” there was a fumbling sound, the echoes of simon zipping up his jacket and pulling on his shoes.
“go to that cafe across the street, dove. go get yourself one of those overpriced hot chocolates. i’ll be there in 15.”
9 minutes later, your shaking hands were tapping random patterns on the cafe table, unable to raise your drink to your mouth without spilling it. your eyes were locked onto the wood grain, counting lines to distract yourself.
suddenly, a gloved hand covered yours. you looked up and there he was, your ghost in all his glory. you forgot everything for a second, forgot the past arguments and the strained silences, and flung yourself into his arms. you breathed in his comforting scent of pinewood that masked his cigarettes, a cologne you got him four years ago for christmas. your face was wet, and as he pulled you back to check you for injuries, his thumb brushed a stray tear away from your face. you didn’t even realize you were crying.
“‘s okay, baby. i’m here now. give me your keys.” you fumbled for your keys, purse strap sliding off your shoulder as your hands shook too much to keep it balanced. simon caught it gracefully, finding your keys in the same pocket you always kept them. “stay here. i’ll be back.” you nodded instinctively. only when you saw his figure retreat to your apartment building, clothed in all black like a figure of death, you realized you hadn’t told him your new apartment number.
twenty minutes passed. simon’s presence had worked like medicine as your heart rate has now dropped back down to normal, your hands stable enough to finish your drink. any other person would be worried for simon’s safety, but you knew the only person you should be concerned for was your intruder.
“you’re stayin’ with me tonight.” he was back, looking exactly the same. he wasn’t even winded. “thank you simon, but don’t be ridiculous. i can get a hotel. you live so far from my work anyways.” he approached you, crowding into your space as he leaned over you, even with a cafe table in between. “consider it payment then.” he tilted your chin up with his left hand as he hid his other one, covered with blood, in his pocket. “one way or another, you’re in my bed tonight, dove.” you gulped at that. “and i’ve got riley in the car. you wouldn’t abandon him, would you?” of course he had gotten your cat when he checked out your apartment. riley hated men, but never simon. cheeky bastard.
“you win.”
fast forward a couple of hours and you were getting ready for bed at simon’s, belly full from the meal he had made you. riley made himself at home on the living room couch, of course. “he’s in my spot.” you gestured to your cat on the couch. “wha’ d’ya mean?” your husband simon was now in sweats and sweats only, clean from the shower he had after you both got home back to his place. you pretended not to see him methodically wash blood out of his fingernails, reasoning quite easily with yourself that it was for a good cause.
“my couch for tonight.” simon moved toward you and you avoided his eyes, trying not to stare at how beautiful he still was. muscular but thick, torso adorned with scars you used to trace on sunday mornings when you both stayed in bed until the afternoon. he gripped your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. “told’ya you were in my bed tonight, dovie.” you swallowed and he watched your throat move, memories of you swallowing something else countless times rising to the surface.
“don’t be silly, simon. that would cross a line.”
“what line?” his arms were crossed now, drawing your attention to an unfamiliar tattoo right above his heart. a small dove.
“we’re not together anymore, simon.”
“you’re still my wife.”
silence. he was always like this, pushing you until you broke. he was unwilling to compromise, even on the smallest of issues. usually you’d fight him, spit fire until you lost your voice. tonight though, you were reminded of how he was the only person you were able to call, the only one committing dark sins without asking, all for your safety. instead, you threw your hands up and walked into his bedroom, mechanically stripping as you put on one of his shirts and a pair of boxers. you felt his eyes on you, burning a hole through the fabric. you were tired, so tired of this push and pull.
“what.” you whipped around, all venom. his eyes were impossibly soft, holding yours with a peaceful caress. “you’re as beautiful as the day i lost you.” your fire went out at that. “you’re just trying to get me naked.” you mumbled, looking down as you fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. you watched as his body came into view, pressing your forehead against his bare skin.
“could see you in a thousand layers and you’d still be the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen, dove.” ever so slowly, your hands crept up his body to grab his shoulders and neck. he picked you up with ease, turning the lights off and tucking you both in bed. “when did you get the tattoo?” you asked in the dark.
“3 months and 12 days ago.” what would have been your 3rd year of marriage, your anniversary. you lowered your head and gave him a kiss right where the tattoo was. “can we talk about it in the morning?” you snuggled into him, that familiar scent calming you once again. “always, dove.” he kissed your forehead, smiling in the dark.
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idk why im obsessed with the break-in and simon to the rescue trope but its fueling me lately
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