Oysters will grow on almost any surface, including false teeth, if that's what happens to be available. The tooth-growing oyster shown above was found in the Chesapeake Bay in 1898, and sent to the Smithsonian where they were put on display and became quite a popular attraction. But soon a paternity battle erupted around them. The story was told in the Saint Paul Globe (Nov 30, 1902):
Experts of the United States fish commission have made a special study of the conditions under which oysters grow, and, to illustrate the adaptability of the mollusks, they have got together a very curious collection of objects. It comprises oysters growing upon a great variety of things, such as old boots, rubber shoes, beer glasses, and even a lantern. There is a broken bottle inside of which, as well as on the outside, oysters have found a home.
And, oddest of all, there is an upper set of false teeth to which an enterprising oyster is firmly attached.
The history of this last oyster is decidedly interesting. About four years ago it was raked out of the waters of Chesapeake bay by a dredging boat, together with the false teeth to which it was firmly fixed, and teeth and oyster were acquired by a hotel keeper at Cowart, Va., whose wife forwarded them to the Smithsonian Institution at Washington. The matter obtaining some advertisement, a man named Webster, residing in Bedford, Iowa, claimed the teeth, saying that he had lost them from a steamer bound for Norfolk.
The Smithsonian officials were undecided at first as to whether they should surrender the teeth or not, the object being so great a curiosity that they were anxious to hold on to it. But not many days later a Philadelphia woman claimed them, asserting that they were hers, and actually a third party, visiting the institution, demanded them, declaring that he recognized them as having been lost by himself.
Probably, from first to last, a good many persons have lost their false teeth overboard in the Chesapeake, the waters of which are liable to be pretty rough at times. Any way, the government scientists did not care to decide the dispute, and concluded to retain the specimen.
Half a century later, in 1954, yet another guy insisted the teeth were his, but in this case the Smithsonian was able to definitively rule out his claim, pointing out that the guy hadn't even been born yet when the teeth were found.
I'm guessing the Smithsonian probably still has this tooth-growing oyster hidden away somewhere in its archives.
The Marsh Mongoose (Atilax paludinosus), also known as the African Water Mongoose, has an unusual method of catching its favorite food (birds). It makes its butt look like a piece of ripe fruit, which tempts birds over to investigate — and fall right into its trap. Jonathan Kingdon, author of East African Mammals, explains:
The marsh mongoose has been widely credited by local people with employing a very bizarre subterfuge to catch birds. The story would seem quite outlandish were there not corroborative evidence for the behaviour pattern, even if not for its alleged purpose. My captive female occasionally would sun-bathe lying on her back, in which position her pale pink anal area assumed a quite startling prominence against the surrounding fringe of dark fur. This display is claimed to induce birds (including the locals' chickens), to approach and peck at the anus, whereupon the mongoose seizes the bird.
According to Animal Diversity Web, the Marsh Mongoose also has another odd trick:
When approached by a threating presence, the mongoose makes a low growl, which may be reinforced by sudden explosive barking growls in a deeper tone. When the mongoose is cornered or distressed, it ejects jets of foul brown fluid from its anal sacs.
Goes to show that you really can't compete with Nature for weirdness.
The strongman Antonio Barichievich (1925-2003), aka the Great Antonio, seems Weird-Universe worthy. Here's a few brief facts about his life (via wikipedia and mrkurtnielsen.com):
He first made it into the Guinness Book of World Records in 1952 by pulling a 433-ton train 19.8 metres.
He weighed 465 pounds (at his heaviest) and stood about 6 foot 4 inches.
He could eat 25 chickens or 10 steaks at one sitting.
He claimed that he trained by running head-on into trees from a distance of 60 metres.
He sang with a soft, beautiful voice, and at one time wanted to tour with Tiny Tim.
He owned what was possibly the world's largest rocking chair — 4 meters high and 2 meters wide.
He believed he was descended from extraterrestrials.
As he grew older, he braided his dreadlocks into a club held together with masking tape and used this to play "hair golf."
Later in life, the only way to contact him was to leave a message at the Dunkin' Donuts in Rosemont, Canada.
Poor Wallace Rossall. With his "twisted insides" he was obviously doomed to an early death.
But maybe not!
If this death record pertains to our Wallace--correct birth date; still living in California at time of death--then he lived to the decent age of 65 or 66.
Paul Di Filippo
Paul has been paid to put weird ideas into fictional form for over thirty years, in his career as a noted science fiction writer. He has recently begun blogging on many curious topics with three fellow writers at The Inferior 4+1.