DAVIS, Jim. Garfield. Disponível em: <http://www.google.com.br/url?>. Acesso em: 2 fev. 2014.

                    

                    

INSTRUCTIONS – Read the following text carefully and then choose the correct alternatives that answer the question.

                                                 SOUTHERN HUMPBACK WHALE

INTRODUCTION



    During the Australian winter, these ocean leviathans journey 3,100 miles north from their Antarctic feeding grounds to the warm tropical waters near Australia´s Whitsunday Islands. At the southern edge of the Great Barrier Reef, the 40-ton female humpbacks give birth to calves measuring 14 feet long and weighing over one ton. The Whitsundays´ sheltered bays keep the calves warm and safe from predators. During the next few months, the whales rest, sing, play and mate. The calves nurse, but the one thing the adult whales don´t do while in the tropical seas is eat. By winter´s end, adults are famished, and they head south. This life cycle is repeated throughout the Southern Hemisphere: one group migrates along the western coast of Australia, others to southern Africa and South America.

                                                                SIGHT UNSEEN



    Underneath the blue Australian ocean, film crews captured the elegant rituals of southern humpbacks as they swim, sing, nurse, and play. A mother humpback whale supported her young calf from underneath, so it could breathe easier near the surface. Calves drink 130 gallons of milk a day! While baby grows fat, the mother starves for five months, her blubber stores depleting daily. Unlike the cold Antarctic waters, the seas here don´t grow rich with krill that humpbacks filer through their baleen plates. But she provides her calf with rich milk that contains some of the highest fat content of any mammal´s milk – 45 percent.
                                                             UNIQUE BEHAVIOR

    Humpback males sing a unique melody, full of high-pitched chirps and whistles interspersed with deeper gurgles and moans. Each male repeats his song for hours, which likely plays a role in courtship. The song may change over time, with males singing a modified melody in consecutive years.
    Whale-watching tours take advantage of the humpback´s playful and curious nature. They often approach boats and put on quite a show. As whales journey south along the eastern coast of Australia, many stop in sheltered Platypus Bay around Fraser Island – a World Heritage Site – where they display the charismatic behaviors loved by whale-watchers. The crystal blue waters give a perfect window to watch the whales twist, roll and swim upside down, emerging to breathe, slap their tails or pectoral fins on the water´s surface. Breaching whales jump nearly all the way out of the water. “Spyhopping" means their head emerges, and they peer at the surroundings with their large eyes.

                                                        STATUS/CONSERVATION

    Commercial hunting in the 19t^h and 20^th centuries decimated most whale species. Because they migrate close to shore and swim slowly, humpbacks became a popular whalers´ target, and were hunted down to a few hundred animals in the Southern Hemisphere. The International Whaling Commission (IWC) implemented a moratorium on harvesting all species starting in 1986, and in 1994, declared Antarctica´s Southern Ocean a whale sanctuary. Now numbering over 10,000 in the Southern Hemisphere, humpbacks have shown incredible resilience, but their numbers still remain a fraction of their historic abundance. Recovery of regional populations varies, and the World Conservation Union (IUCN) lists the humpback as vulnerable.
     Humpbacks also have two Northern Hemisphere populations that number around 11,500 in the North Atlantic and 6,000 in the North Pacific. Northern humpbacks are genetically differentiated from the Southern Hemisphere population, and have dark bellies, while the southern humpbacks have all-white bellies. They don´t interbreed, because while the southern populations are mating and calving in the warm tropical seas, northern populations are near the polar Arctic.

                                                                  OUTLOOK



     The International Whaling Commission (IWC) allows hunting by indigenous cultures but bans hunting of humpback whales. Japan has long engaged in IWC-sanctioned “scientific whaling" of minke and other whales, and plans to start hunting humpbacks in 2007. “We are all concerned about Japan´s plans to add this species to the scientific whaling quota", says Dr. Scott Baker, a renowned cetacean conservation biologist. Iceland also just started commercial whaling in 2006.

    Some Asian countries allow the sale of whale meat from incidental bycatch, and a whale´s value of $100,000 provides incentive for illegal harvest. Baker and colleagues used DNA to show that the whale meat being sold in South Korean shops did not match that reported to the IWC. Illegal harvest and sale of whale meat is occurring.

    Australia and New Zealand have petitioned the IWC to create a South Pacific Sanctuary adjoining the Southern Ocean Sanctuary where whaling would be illegal. Thus far, it has not been approved by IWC.

                                                                                        http://dsc.discovery.com/convergence/planet-earth/...

                                                Text 2

                                    What’s in a name?

                                                                                    Henry Louis Gates Jr. (1989)

The question of color takes up much space in these pages, but the question of color, especially in this country, operates to hide the graver questions of the self.
                                                                                                                                          - James Baldwin, 1961

… blood, darky, Tar baby, Kaffir, shine… moor, blackamoor, Jim Crow, spook… quadroon, meriney, red bone, high yellow… Mammy, porch monkey, home, homeboy, George… spearchucker, Leroy, Smokey…mouli, buck, Ethiopian, brother, sistah…

                                                                                                                                                      - Trey Ellis, 1989

             I had forgotten the incident completely, until I read Trey Elli’s essay, “Remember My Name,” in a recent issue of the Village Voice (June 13, 1989). But there, in the middle of an extended italicized list of the bynames of “the race” (“the race” or “our people” being the terms my parents used in polite or reverential discourse, “jigaboo” or “nigger” more commonly used in anger, jest, or pure disgust), it was: “George”. Now the events of that very brief exchange return to my mind so vividly that I wonder why I had forgotten it.
            My father and I were walking home at dusk from his second job. He “moonlighted” as a janitor in the evenings for the telephone company. Every day, but Saturday, he would come home at 3:30 from his regular job at the paper Mill, wash up, eat supper, then at 4:30 head downtown to his second job. He used to make jokes frequently about a union official who moonlighted. I never got the joke, but he and his friends thought it was hilarious. All I knew was that my family always ate well, that my brother and I had new clothes to wear, and that all of the white people in Piedmont, West Virginia, treated my parents with an odd mixture of resentment and respect that even we understood at the time had something directly to do with a small but certain measure of financial security.
            He had left a little early that evening because I was with him and I had to be in bed early. I could not have been more than five or six, and we had stopped off at the Cut-Rate Drug Store (where no black person in town but my father could sit down to eat, and eat off real plates with real silverware) so that I could buy some caramel ice cream, two scoops in a wafer cone, please, which I was busy licking when Mr. Wilson walked by.
            Mr. Wilson was a very quiet man, whose stony, brooding, silent manner seemed designed to scare off any overtures of friendship, even from white people. He was Irish as was one-third of our village (another third being Italian), the more affluent among whom sent their children to “Catholic School” across the bridge in Maryland. He had white straight hair, like my Uncle Joe, whom he uncannily resembled, and he carried a black worn metal lunch pail, the kind that Riley carried on the television show. My father always spoke to him, and for reasons that we never did understand, he always spoke to my father.
            “Hello, Mr. Wilson,” I heard my father say.
            “Hello, George.” I stopped licking my ice cream cone, and asked my Dad in a loud voice why Mr. Wilson had called him “George.”
            “Doesn’t he know your name, Daddy? Why don’t you tell him your name? Your name isn’t George.”
            For a moment I tried to think of who Mr. Wilson was mixing Pop up with. But we didn’t have any Georges among the colored people in Piedmont; nor were there colored Georges living in the neighboring towns and working at the Mill.
             “Tell him your name, Daddy.”
            “He knows my name, boy,” my father said after a long pause. “He calls all colored people George.” A long silence ensued. It was “one of those things”, as my Mom would put it. Even then, that early, I knew when I was in the presence of “one of those things”, one of those things that provided a glimpse, through a rent curtain, at another world that we could not affect but that affected us. There would be a painful moment of silence, and you would wait for it to give way to a discussion of a black superstar such as Sugar Ray or Jackie Robinson.
            “Nobody hits better in a clutch than Jackie Robinson.”
            “That’s right. Nobody.”
            I never again looked Mr. Wilson in the eye.