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Researchers Isolate the "Smell of Human Death"
sciencehabit writes: In the wake California's forest fires, cadaver dogs had to distinguish between burning homes, charred forest, and even other dead animals to pick up the unique scent of human victims. A new study reveals how they might have done it: Decomposing humans seem to release a unique chemical cocktail, one that scientists might be able to use to better train cadaver dogs and even develop machines that could do the same job.
Jelly Belly has announced they're working on a new flavor.
Seems like an obvious market.
Why is Snark Required?
"The flies... OH MAN THE FLIES..."
I got that beat:
The first warm day in May of 1966, after a month of unrelenting rain, a peculiar, somewhat musty, somewhat sweet, smell permeated the house that we had just rented in Rural California.
Dad takes a sniff, pronounces "Dead Cow".
This I just had to see for myself. (And smell...)
Vickie and I, (Vickie was a black mutt of indeterminate ancestry who bore an uncanny profile resemblance to Queen Victoria in Mourning.), found it on the neighboring Ranch, about a half mile in, underneath a fallen Oak Tree.
It was black and white and very, very, bloated. It had been there a while, and the cold rain had kept it reasonably fresh.
Note here: This was a Tax Cow. Ranches had to maintain a minimum number of Cows to maintain "Agricultural Preserve" Tax Status. One cow for every forty acres or so. A scam of course- all that Ranch Land was already designated R1 Residential; they started building houses there four years later.
Vickie was delighted- Her first Dead Cow. The flies didn't bother us much; they had more important matters to deal with.
Vickie grabbed something on the belly, tugged, and the Cow exploded. Oh, the Smell, and... and...
Yellow Jackets use that time of year to found new nests in the rapidly cracking California Adobe soil. But why do that when there is a perfectly good Dead Cow recently come onto the market?
I have never run faster in my life. Those Yellow Jackets were _pissed_.
Vickie followed. Whatever it was she had yanked, she wanted to keep. So she stopped maybe every fifty yards or so, and argued with the Yellow Jackets about the finer points of Ownership.
I didn't get stung. (Good thing- Allergies...) Vickie finally made it home with her Prize, and a persistent cloud of Yellow Jackets.
She stayed outside.
Eventually, she threw up, and we had another swarm of pissed Yellow Jackets to deal with. She must have swallowed a hundred of them, whole.
We called the Sheriff, who called Animal Control, who called the absentee Rancher, and they informed him that a Dead Cow was _his_ problem.
A Bulldozer later became involved.