Buzz
While many animals prefer to spend their days eating, resting, and reproducing, there are times when they become tangled in the often bizarre world of human crime. Whether they're the victims, the criminals, or even unwittingly involved in a crime scheme, animals have been part of some strange stories. From the tragic to the humorous, here are 10 remarkable tales of animal-related crimes.
10. The 1914 Feline Incident
In New York City, there was once a butcher shop called the Brighton Beef Company, run by J. Wynberger. If you strolled by this shop, you'd be drawn to the steaks, sausages, and chickens displayed in the window. To keep the meat fresh, Mr. Wynberger left the transom above the front door open, allowing a breeze to circulate through his store. However, this seemingly harmless decision led to an unexpected disaster.
On the night of January 23, 1914, a nearby police officer was startled by a loud and chaotic noise coming from inside the Brighton Beef Company. As reported by the Sun, “A hundred drunk burglars couldn’t have made more noise.” Assuming a robbery was in progress, the officer signaled for backup, and soon the street was filled with police officers and curious bystanders, all puzzled by the noise coming from the shop.
Thinking the worst, the officers drew their firearms but discovered the door locked. Determined to take action, they sent a young officer through the transom above the door. When he opened the door from the inside, they were shocked to find not burglars but cats. The butcher shop was overrun with around 25 felines, all enjoying the spread of meats. According to the Evening World, “They were feasting on choice bits of chicken. They were scrapping with pork chops. They were playing ninepins with sausages.” In short, Mr. Wynberger was out of stock.
After sheathing their weapons, the officers retrieved their clubs and stormed the shop, attempting to chase the cats out. A group of concerned citizens joined in, but one unfortunate man was scratched so badly that he had to rush to the hospital. Eventually, the officers managed to eject all 25 cats, but the mystery remained: how had the felines gotten in? The transom was far too high for any cat to reach on its own, unless someone had lent them a hand.
The police theorized that a rival butcher had kidnapped the cats, starved them, and then set them loose in Mr. Wynberger’s shop. Unfortunately, the authorities never tracked down the culprit, and the cats had no intention of spilling the beans about their mysterious benefactor.
9. The Parasite Poisoning Scandal
Eric Kranz was fascinated by parasites. As a 23-year-old postgraduate student at Quebec's MacDonald College, Kranz specialized in Ascaris suum, a parasitic worm that resides in the intestines of pigs.
Typically, these parasites exit their host through feces and wait for another pig to come along. Once inside, the female worms, which can grow up to 38 centimeters (15 inches) long, lay around 200,000 eggs per day. The eggs hatch, and the larvae travel through the pig's bloodstream to the lungs, eventually reaching the throat. The pig then swallows the parasites, which return to the small intestine to mature, lay more eggs, and continue the cycle, spreading a new generation of nematodes. Delightful, isn’t it?
In addition to his passion for parasites, Eric Kranz wasn't exactly a model roommate. Living with four other students, he was always late paying the monthly bills. This became such an issue that his roommates threatened to evict him. How does this relate to Ascaris suum? Well, after his roommates gave him an ultimatum, Kranz responded by threatening to contaminate their meals with his little wriggling friends.
Apparently, Kranz's roommates didn’t take him seriously. Not only did they kick him out in February 1970, but they also allowed him to cook dinner just a week before his departure. A few days later, all four roommates mysteriously fell ill. Two of them became so ill that their condition was considered critical. Initially, doctors couldn’t pinpoint the cause, but after examining some sputum samples, they saw something moving. It turned out the roommates were hosting quite the parasite party, with around 300,000–400,000 worms per person.
That's when everyone remembered Kranz’s earlier threat, and he was charged with attempted murder. It took some time to track him down since he had fled to Mexico City, but eventually, he was convinced to return to Quebec to face trial. Believe it or not, he was acquitted. His defense was surprisingly solid. According to Kranz, the plumbing had been blocked at the apartment (a claim his four roommates denied), and that’s likely where the worms came from.
Never mind that Kranz specialized in this exact parasite. Forget that Ascaris suum is typically a tropical parasite, and the roommates became ill during a Canadian winter. And let’s not even mention that these four men were the first known humans to ever be infected by this pig-borne parasite. No, just ignore all of that, because Kranz was clearly an innocent man.
8. The Tale of The Pigeon King
Arlan Galbraith went by the title of “The Pigeon King,” which, as far as villain names go, isn’t all that intimidating. But then, Galbraith wasn’t your typical criminal. As the leader of Pigeon King International, an Ontarian, he had grand plans to build an avian empire across Canada and the United States. Of course, he’d need plenty of assistance to get his Ponzi scheme off the ground, and that’s where the farmers came into play.
Galbraith's plan was to sell breeding pigeons to farmers in the U.S. and Canada. Once the birds had done their thing, the investors would sell the chicks back to him. Supposedly, he would then resell these birds as premium racing pigeons to wealthy buyers in Saudi Arabia, or so he claimed.
In reality, Galbraith's pigeons were not fit for racing. Instead of selling them to pigeon racers, he simply resold the squabs to the next group of farmers who signed up for his scheme. Once the new batch of birds hatched, he'd sell them to fresh investors eager to make a profit from the pigeons, and the cycle continued. Tragically, many of his clients were Amish and Mennonite farmers, people who wouldn’t have taken legal action even if Galbraith had stolen every penny from them. To make things worse, one of Galbraith's salesmen was a lawyer with a known history of defrauding clients.
For a time, Pigeon King International was raking in the cash. By the time the company collapsed, it had brought in about $42 million. After all, investors were paying outrageous amounts for these birds, with many even borrowing against their farms to secure the birds.
Various activists and magazines attempted to expose the Pigeon King, and some investors may have grown suspicious when Galbraith announced that they were no longer selling racing birds. Instead, they would market squab as the latest meat sensation. Despite all the shady dealings, Galbraith wasn't your typical crook. Unlike most con men, he tried to pay his clients and collect pigeons on time (for a while, at least). When the company faced financial troubles, he would even dip into his own pocket to pay off debts. For a few years, his investors saw returns—until June 2008.
Eventually, the number of pigeons Galbraith needed to sell far outstripped the number of farmers signing on. Realizing his empire was collapsing, he shut down the company, declared bankruptcy, and vanished. His investors were left with $356 million worth of pigeons that they were contractually obligated to buy back. These pitiful birds were neither fit for racing nor consumption.
Unfortunately, there were so many useless pigeons left around—about 400,000 in total—that the Canadian government had no choice but to euthanize many of the poor birds, fearing that farmers might abandon them. As for Galbraith, he eventually faced justice and in 2013, was sentenced to seven years and three and a half months in prison. Let’s hope he doesn’t manage to escape his fate.
7. The Bloody Saga Of The Washington Park Lions
On July 4, 1970, 19-year-old Roger Adams was in the mood to celebrate. After partying at a dance in Portland, Oregon, he and his friends, Ken Bower and Michael Gaskell, decided to sneak into the Washington Park Zoo (now the Oregon Zoo) with a jug of wine. Of course, combining alcohol with dangerous animals is never a good idea, but after a few drinks, rational thinking was clearly out the window.
Scaling the fence, a tipsy Roger began showing off for his friends by dangling dangerously close to the lion pit, lowering himself down, and presenting himself as a target for the lions. At first, it might have seemed like a fun stunt, but unfortunately for Roger, the 5-meter (16 ft) leap from the moat to the pit's edge was nothing for Sis, the 11-year-old lion. With her eyes locked on Roger, she swiped at his legs, just missing him.
That’s when Roger realized it was time to escape the pit, but before he could pull himself out, Sis had another go and dragged him back down. Over the next few minutes, Sis and her mate, Caesar, savagely attacked Roger. His frantic friends threw their wine bottle at the lions and scrambled to get help, but by the time the night guard arrived, Roger was already beyond saving.
The following day, local newspapers reported Roger’s tragic death, quoting his friend Ken, who angrily declared that the lions needed to be punished. Unfortunately for Sis and Caesar, someone agreed with Ken’s sentiment, and hours later, a mysterious assassin armed with a hunting rifle entered the zoo in the early morning hours and shot both lions dead within minutes. By noon that same day, the lions were gone. Enraged animal lovers flooded Roger’s family with hateful letters and threatening phone calls (“I hope he rots in Hell,” “He got what’s coming to him”).
As for the mysterious lion killer, he kept a low profile for two years until 1972. At that point, Ken Bowers, who had wished for the lions’ demise, confessed to being the one who had pulled the trigger. Although Ken could have faced up to three years in prison for animal destruction (on top of a more recent drug charge), the judge decided to let him off with three years of probation and a $1,200 fine. Unfortunately, there’s no happy ending here. Everyone involved in this gruesome tale either ended up dead, hated, or haunted by memories of Roger’s brutal death.
6. The 21st-Century Cattle Rustler
When most people think of cattle rustling, they likely envision old-time cowboys with revolvers and swift horses. The image of pickup trucks and cattle trailers probably doesn’t come to mind. That’s because we often associate cattle rustling with a bygone era, back when stealing a cow could get you hanged. However, cattle rustling is very much alive today. In fact, Oklahoma has recently experienced an uptick in cattle thefts, with meth addicts resorting to rustling cows to fund their drug habits.
These meth users from Oklahoma didn’t quite have the same flair as Roddy Dean Pippin. A Texas native who was passionate about cowboy culture, Roddy grew up idolizing legends like John Wayne and Louis L’Amour. But Roddy wasn’t your average ranch hand. Though he loved twirling a lasso and wearing a Stetson, he struggled with severe diabetes that required him to take six insulin shots daily. Because of his illness and recurring seizures, Roddy frequently found himself unemployed, which eventually led him to try his hand at cattle rustling.
Roddy, accompanied by a small crew of two brothers and their girlfriends, traveled throughout North Texas, rustling over 130 cattle from affluent ranchers and large corporations. He wasn’t the type to steal from honest, hard-working folk; instead, he targeted the big ranchers, those who owned enough cattle that they wouldn’t immediately notice a few missing. Stealing from the wealthy was part of Roddy’s personal code. He spent time getting to know the cows and feeding them treats, so when he returned at night with his trailer, the cattle would follow him right in.
Sadly for Roddy, his rustling career ended in 2004 when he was caught making off with a half-dozen cattle. After a brief police chase, the diabetic outlaw was thrown in prison for eight years. But here’s where the story takes an unexpected turn. Four years into his sentence, Roddy’s diabetes worsened dramatically. The situation became so dire that the judge allowed Roddy to leave prison on house arrest for two years. When his so-called “shock probation” came to an end, Roddy made his return to prison, riding in style, drawing quite a bit of media attention.
However, when Roddy went back to prison, the Texas Department of Criminal Justice refused to count the two years he had spent under house arrest. They demanded he serve four additional years instead of just two. Furious and terrified that he might die behind bars, Roddy protested in true cowboy fashion, requesting the government build a gallows to ‘hang him at high noon.’ Fortunately for Roddy, there was no need for a ‘necktie party.’ In September 2011, the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals sided with him and let the cowboy ‘ride out of prison’ and into the sunset.
5. Investigating A Walrus Massacre
Ken Goddard has one of the coolest jobs around. With more than a decade of CSI-style expertise, he serves as the director of the National Fish & Wildlife Forensics Laboratory in Ashland, Oregon—America’s only wildlife forensics lab. If a protected species meets a grim fate, Goddard is the go-to expert. That’s why, in 1990, Ken and his team flew to Alaska to investigate one of the most disturbing crime scenes imaginable: a beach littered with decapitated walruses.
The story behind the scene was pretty straightforward. Members of the Inuit and Yupik tribes claimed that Russian pilots were using the walruses as target practice. Flying low over the creatures as they lounged on their ice floes, the pilots would shoot at them for sport. As for the heads, the locals had decided to take the ivory, since the carcasses were already lying around. Why let perfectly good tusks go to waste?
Ken’s job was to verify the story the locals told, but it wasn’t an easy task. The plan was to cut open the walruses, peel back their skin, and run a metal detector over their bodies. But the walruses had been baking in the sun for days, and not only were they decomposing, but when Ken’s team sliced into them, their insides erupted like geysers. In an interview with *Snap Judgment* producer Stephanie Foo, Ken remarked that the stench of decaying walruses was 'worse than any human crime scene' he’d ever encountered.
To make matters worse, Ken couldn’t find any evidence that the Russians had killed the walruses. When he passed the metal detector over the bodies, it remained silent. There were no bullets to be found—perhaps the metal detectors were malfunctioning. To test his hypothesis, Ken fired a few rounds into the ground and then shot several into a dead whale. When he passed the metal detector over the sand, it worked fine. But when he scanned the whale... nothing.
That’s when it all made sense. Somehow, the thick layer of walrus fat was messing with the team’s equipment. Learning from their earlier mistakes, the next time they came across a walrus, Ken’s team methodically filleted the animal into tiny slivers, piece by piece. After much effort, they finally discovered a bullet fragment. But this wasn’t from any fighter jet—this bullet had been fired from a hunting rifle.
Upon further analysis, Ken concluded that the walruses had been decapitated before being pushed into the sea, meaning a group of native hunters had killed the animals, taken their ivory, and dumped the bodies. Though the local tribes were allowed to hunt walruses, they were obligated to use every part of the animal. This, however, was a deliberate ruse.
Armed with this knowledge, Ken informed the tribal leaders about what some of their people had been doing. The chiefs promised to take action against the poachers. According to Ken, the tribes were able to keep their members in check for several years, but recently, he’s been hearing troubling reports of decapitated walruses washing up on the shore once more.
4. The Severed Heads of Prospect Park
One cold November morning in 2014, the residents of Park Slope, Brooklyn, awoke to a peculiar sight. At the intersection of Fifth Avenue and Ninth Street, someone had hung a pair of goat heads from a light pole. The heads had been skinned, tied together, and then casually tossed over the pole. Apparently, the New Yorkers weren’t too bothered, as the heads remained there for days until, eventually, someone decided they’d had enough of the gruesome sight (or perhaps the smell) and tossed them in the trash.
So why wasn’t anyone freaking out about the sight of mutilated goat remains? Well, it’s likely because this sort of thing happens all the time. Park Slope is right next to Prospect Park, a sprawling 500-acre expanse filled with trees, lakes, and the occasional animal remains. The park has earned the nickname “the goat head capital of Brooklyn,” probably because someone enjoys leaving severed skulls scattered about. While some heads are just unceremoniously abandoned in the snow, others are arranged more thoughtfully. One goat head was found with a yellow flower placed on its forehead, while others rested on plates, often accompanied by sides of corn.
It’s a bit of a puzzle as to who’s behind the scattered goat heads. Some blame local practitioners of Santeria and voodoo, faiths that allow animal sacrifice. According to a 1994 Supreme Court ruling, these religious rites are protected under the First Amendment. So, if the culprit is performing a religious ritual, the worst offense would be illegal dumping. However, the local Santeria and voodoo priests deny any involvement with the goat heads and assert that the trophies don’t have the characteristics of a legitimate animal sacrifice.
Maybe it’s a group of mischievous kids looking for some fun. Maybe it’s a rogue practitioner of Santeria or voodoo who doesn’t quite know what they’re doing. Or perhaps it’s a sadistic individual in Brooklyn who enjoys killing animals. After all, there are more than just goat heads turning up in Prospect Park. In 2010, The Brooklyn Paper reported that someone was slaughtering chickens—lots of chickens—and tossing their heads into one of the park’s lakes. The same report described hikers stumbling upon piles of chicken entrails, crushed turtle shells, and a bloody rock used as a makeshift chopping block. Additionally, the previous year, someone nailed 15 cow tongues to a tree and somehow, a random pig head was found near a fence.
Unfortunately, unless park authorities catch someone in the act of dumping body parts or harming animals, there’s little they can do. So, if you’re planning to visit, it’s probably best to keep your livestock away from Prospect Park.
3. The Mysterious Shark Arm Affair
On April 17, 1935, a fisherman off the coast of Australia reeled in a massive tiger shark, measuring approximately 4 meters (13 feet) long. The fisherman was so awestruck by the creature that he made the decision to spare its life. Rather than releasing it back into the ocean, the shark was brought to a Sydney aquarium where it could be admired by visitors through thick glass walls.
Onlookers were captivated as the shark swam lazily around its enclosure, displaying typical shark behavior. However, on April 25, things took a shocking turn. The shark began thrashing wildly, as though having some sort of underwater seizure. Then, in a bizarre twist, it opened its mouth and expelled a human arm, complete with a tattoo of two boxers locked in a fierce battle. Strangely, a piece of rope was tied around the wrist. It's likely that a few of the viewers lost their appetite at that moment.
Naturally, local authorities retrieved the arm from the tank. Upon closer inspection, they realized that the arm had not been bitten off by the shark. Instead, it had been severed. This discovery suggested that the person to whom the arm belonged was not the victim of a shark attack, but rather a gruesome act of murder.
Using the tattoo and fingerprint analysis, investigators were able to identify the arm as belonging to Jim Smith, a local boxer-turned-thug. The last person seen with Smith was a notorious forger named Patrick Brady. The two had been seen playing cards together one night, but after that, Jim Smith vanished without a trace. A cab driver later reported picking up Brady on that same night, noting that the man seemed extremely nervous and refused to take his hand out of his pocket.
The cab driver recounted to the police that he had dropped Brady off at the residence of Reginald Holmes, a boat builder from Sydney who made most of his income through smuggling drugs. Local gossip suggested that Holmes and Smith were involved in an insurance scam, and after that, Smith attempted to blackmail Holmes. To protect his reputation, Holmes allegedly instructed Brady to eliminate Smith... but not in a friendly way. After the murder, it was believed that Brady dismembered Smith's body, stuffed the remains into a trunk, and disposed of the evidence by tossing it into the sea.
As for the mysterious arm, after Brady was arrested, Holmes agreed to testify against him, claiming that Brady had presented the arm to him in a gruesome attempt at blackmail. Afterward, it was said that Brady had thrown the arm into the sea. However, Holmes never had the chance to take the stand; he was shot dead on the morning of the inquest. The killer was never identified, and Brady was ultimately exonerated. After all, just because an arm was found in a shark, it didn’t necessarily mean there was a body to go with it.
2. The Murder Of Jairo Mora Sandoval
Jairo Mora Sandoval was a real-life hero. The 26-year-old conservationist dedicated his life to safeguarding Costa Rica’s leatherback sea turtles from hueveros, the notorious 'egg men' who steal turtle eggs to sell as aphrodisiacs for a dollar each. Whenever a mother turtle would crawl onto Playa Moin, a 24-kilometer (15-mile) stretch of beach near Limon, Mora would venture out to track down their nests and take the eggs to the safety of the Costa Rica Wildlife Sanctuary.
It turns out, protecting turtles in Costa Rica is no easy feat. Mora had to get creative in his efforts to keep poachers away from the nests, like sprinkling broken glass around the eggs to make hueveros cut their fingers. On one occasion, he even leapt out of a truck to physically tackle a poacher. Not all of Mora’s methods were aggressive, though. For instance, he made deals with some of the more amicable hueveros, agreeing that if they discovered a nest together, they'd split the eggs. He was also involved in a program that hired poachers to protect the eggs instead of stealing them.
Not all hueveros were as agreeable as others. One particularly vicious group, led by a Nicaraguan named Felipe Arauz, operated with far more brutality than most. On one occasion, a gang of poachers armed with machetes attacked one of Mora’s friends. At another point, a band of gun-wielding thugs raided the sanctuary, tying up several of Mora’s colleagues and even beating his cousin. These criminals didn’t stop there—they even took a photo of one of the conservationist’s children. Despite the constant threats and the lack of protection from the police, Mora continued his nightly patrols on the beach... until May 20, 2013.
On that fateful night, Mora was on his usual patrol along Playa Moin. While driving down the beach, he came across a tree trunk blocking the road. As he got out of his vehicle to clear it away, five masked men ambushed him. The attackers forced him into the back of a vehicle and drove to a remote location. There, they stripped him, tied him to the rear of a car, and dragged him across the beach, suffocating him to death. The news of his murder shocked the public, and Mora was posthumously honored as a hero. In an effort to manage the PR fallout, the Costa Rican government ordered a high-level investigation.
More than two months after Mora’s tragic death, authorities made six arrests, including Arauz, the head of the violent huevero gang. At first, it seemed like a straightforward case: witness accounts, geolocation data, and incriminating text messages linked the poachers to the crime scene. One of the criminals was even found in possession of Mora’s cell phone when he was arrested. However, much of the evidence was either lost or deemed inadmissible, and despite the overwhelming proof, the hueveros were eventually released, free to return to the beach.
1. The Parrot That Started A Riot
Although parrots are among the most intelligent creatures in the animal kingdom, not all of them use their brains for good. Take, for instance, a story from the 19th century about an unnamed bird with an incredibly foul mouth (or more accurately, an unpleasant beak). The tale begins with two British men, Arthur Crowe and George Tibbett, who were entertaining an anonymous German woman at a London pub. While they were chatting, an Italian ice cream vendor named Brambani entered and made a beeline for the parrot perched in the corner.
The parrot belonged to the pub’s owner, and Brambani was attempting to teach it some Italian. However, instead of picking up Brambani's language, the parrot began cursing up a storm in English, and that’s when trouble ensued. Crowe and Tibbett, mistakenly thinking it was Brambani who was swearing at their female companion, demanded an apology. They refused to believe that it was the parrot's doing. Brambani, now in fear for his life, had no choice but to flee... with Crowe, Tibbett, the German lady, and an angry mob on his tail.
According to author Jeremy Clay, the mob chased Brambani into his ice cream shop, and things could have turned violent if not for his calm-headed nephew, John, who intervened. John tried to reason with the crowd, urging them to disperse, but they weren’t listening. Instead, they pelted John with everything they could find. Fortunately, the police arrived just in time to break up the scene and arrest Crowe and Tibbett. As for the parrot, it escaped without facing any consequences.
