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Yahoo
8 minutes ago
- Yahoo
Is it legal to own a raccoon in Iowa? What to know about keeping wildlife as a pet.
It's not uncommon to come across adorable wildlife in Iowa — from summertime fawn sightings to the occasional bobcat kitten in your yard. Even a raccoon can appear cute and cuddly at the right time. You may even be tempted to bring one home, before thinking to yourself: "Is this legal?" Well, we're here to answer that question. Is it legal to own a raccoon in Iowa? It's illegal to own dangerous wild animals in Iowa, as outlined in Iowa Code. Raccoons aren't technically considered dangerous wild animals. However, this is where things get tricky. "A bit of a nuance, but wild raccoons are illegal to have as pets in Iowa," said Tammie Krausman, Iowa Department of Natural Resources' public information officer. "Often, people want to keep them as pets if they are injured or thought to be orphaned." Law enforcement action will be taken if a wild raccoon is found as a pet in Iowa, including removing the animal, Krausman said. Citations can also be given, as many cities have ordinances prohibiting the animals as pets. While certain raccoons obtained by a licensed breeder are technically legal in Iowa, Krausman said there are laws that impact transporting raccoons across state lines. What should you do if you see an injured animal or an abandoned baby animal? Krausman recommended not touching or moving wildlife, as you could cause more problems than solving them, especially if the animal is a baby. The DNR warns that many baby animals that appear orphaned are actually being cared for by a parent who is just out of sight. Many animals die from the stress of being handled or placed in unfamiliar surroundings. If you come across wildlife and don't know what to do, you can always call the Iowa DNR at 515-275-8200 and the team will help you find appropriate care for the animal, Krausman said. Victoria Reyna-Rodriguez is a general assignment reporter for the Register. Reach her at vreynarodriguez@ or follow her on Twitter @VictoriaReynaR. This article originally appeared on Des Moines Register: Is it legal to own a raccoon in Iowa? See what Iowa DNR says. Solve the daily Crossword
New York Times
11 minutes ago
- New York Times
Going on a Date? Ask for a Binding Contract.
In my 20s, I learned that the fastest way to end a conversation was to tell someone what I did for a living. 'I draft contracts,' I would say, and watch my interlocutor's eyes glaze. I get it: There's a reason we speed through interminable terms of use and toss credit-card agreements into the trash without a second glance. 'Legalese,' we call the language with scorn. 'Whereas'? 'Hereby'? Who talks like that? And who would make that their life? I certainly didn't plan on going into corporate law. I thought I would become a trial lawyer until a persistent case of laryngitis and a growing fear of public speaking taught me that I didn't enjoy oral argument as much as I thought I did. I pivoted away from the courtroom, instead studying commercial drafting with a buttoned-up practitioner who emphasized form. Contracts offered a predictable rhythm and a nesting doll-like structure, in which each article, section and subsection had a purpose. The body of the contract contained the major terms of agreement, divided into titled segments. There were 'defined terms,' a glossary of important words; 'representations and warranties,' statements of fact meant to induce a party to enter into the agreement; 'covenants,' or promises; and 'conditions precedent,' events that had to happen before a party was required to act. Learning how to read contracts was like studying a foreign language, but soon enough I got comfortable with archaic phrases like 'notwithstanding the foregoing.' I welcomed the rules-based craft after years of Socratic questioning — a pedagogy that felt like the classroom equivalent of a thrill ride (which I also detest). Notwithstanding the foregoing, I might also have been attracted to the antiseptic nature of contracts because my personal life was such a mess. I wasn't sure if I was gay, bisexual or just a LUG (lesbian until graduation), yet my bigger problem was a fear of commitment. When my law-school boyfriend told me he loved me, I found I couldn't say it back. Years later, I would understand my intimacy issues as anxiety over abandonment, but back then I only knew that those words signified a step in our relationship I wasn't ready to take. Contract drafting, a deliberative process that requires clarity and specificity, helped me understand my reticence. Our first assignment was to write an agreement for the sale of a used 1995 Nissan Altima. Most lawyers pull from old agreements (and today, A.I.), but in school we had to write ours from scratch. I thought I did a good job until I received my teacher's feedback. These included notes on style and substance. As I revised, a certain alchemy took hold. I realized that telling my boyfriend that I loved him made me uncomfortable: I was making a commitment without knowing what, exactly, it entailed. Would I need to change my habits? Was I agreeing to take care of him in some way? Were we exclusive? 'I love you' was an open-ended assertion, a promise with vague terms. When drafting contracts, on the other hand, it was imperative to imagine all the ways that a relationship could play out and protect parties (notably, me) from getting hurt. Lawyers protect the client through a collaborative writing process. At my law-firm job, we marked up the document, striking some words while adding others, before passing it to the opposing side. It often got messy — I once almost missed an early-morning flight while two parties tussled over a single sentence in a letter of intent — but there was something beautiful about the collective energy that went into creating a shared understanding of what was expected of each other. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
Forbes
11 minutes ago
- Forbes
What An Apprentice Ironworker Can Teach Us About Quality Jobs
I can't stop thinking about the apprentice ironworker I met near Portland, Oregon, a few weeks ago. Her name is Ashley Lautenschlager, and she received her initial training as part of a remarkable workforce development effort reimagining the state's clean energy workforce to meet surging energy demand and expand economic mobility for Oregonians. Ashley currently installs giant steel cables to make the region's first major highway bridge strong enough to withstand an earthquake. She's not sure if she'd call this a 'green' job; she's not building solar panels or wind farms. But she's excited; this apprenticeship teaches her skills that are in growing demand across Oregon's energy sector. As energy demand increases across the country, the question isn't whether 'green jobs' will reshape the labor market; it's how quickly workers in nearly every field will be ready for the shift. Much as digital skills became essential across industries over the last generation, 'green skills'—such as improving energy efficiency and increasing resilience to extreme weather—are becoming a vital part of many jobs not conventionally considered 'green.' Yet most workforce systems still treat green jobs as niche instead of recognizing that green skills are becoming a new baseline, and can offer pathways to quality jobs. Unless we act now— integrating green skills training into the core of workforce development through apprenticeships, career and technical education (CTE) programs, and upskilling incumbent workers—we risk leaving many regions behind. That means employers without the highly skilled employees they need to power their businesses and workers without the jobs that can improve their lives. So, how did Ashley get started? She picked up the basics of ironwork, cement masonry, and brick laying in a 12-week pre-apprenticeship program at the Coffee Creek Correctional Facility, where she was incarcerated. The Union Pre-Apprenticeship Construction Training Program, known as U-PACT Oregon, is a key component of the statewide campaign led by the Oregon Clean Energy Workforce Coalition and Portland General Electric. Their goal: prepare thousands of people for access to the state's rapidly growing clean energy jobs, which offer competitive pay and benefits. It's an unprecedented workforce expansion that requires broadening recruitment to reach workers who have been underrepresented in the sector, including people who have been incarcerated. Ashley took to ironwork immediately. On the day of her release, she headed straight to the Ironworkers Local 29 training center and began her registered apprenticeship as a union member. A year later, she earns nearly $40 an hour, has her own place and car, and enough personal and financial resources to create stability for a niece who moved in with her. She returned to Coffee Creek in July with Coalition leaders to meet the women of the latest U-PACT class and show them what's possible. That's a lot to celebrate—and to learn from. Oregon is one of several U.S. regions leading the transformation of workforce development to meet local needs—equipping electricians to modernize the grid, training workers in green construction and manufacturing techniques, and creating partnerships that make energy resilience a shared skill set, not a specialized one. The state faces pressures felt nationwide: the retirement of Baby Boomer electricians and other tradespeople, creating large workforce gaps. The state also set mandates requiring utilities to serve customers with carbon-free electricity by 2040. A recent Forbes survey of 1,100 C-suite leaders representing companies with at least $500 million in revenue shows that sustainability has money and momentum, despite political and economic headwinds. Nearly one-third of executives ranked sustainability as their top business priority. An additional 38% ranked it in the top three. And 89% planned to increase their sustainability budget this year. The Coalition reports significant progress since its formation in 2022. It works with employers and industry to identify workforce gaps and supports U-PACT Oregon and other training programs to help fill those gaps. It's building the next-generation workforce by creating the state's first clean energy CTE program of study for high school students and generating excitement about the breadth of jobs available. Collectively with five other regions, they aim to place at least 25,000 people in quality green jobs by 2027. Here are a few takeaways from my visit to see the Coalition in action: Employer leadership matters. Portland General Electric, which leads the Coalition, and other industry partners are invested, literally and figuratively, in the effort. This level of industry involvement has inspired the commitment of other groups. That could—and should—be replicated elsewhere. Big-tent collaboration generates action. Everyone who plays a role in workforce development in Oregon participates: employers, unions, corrections, training providers, public schools, community colleges, workforce boards, community-based organizations, Indigenous tribes, and state, county, and municipal agencies. This is how to implode the silos that too often derail good intentions. Simple math requires fair chance hiring—and training. Oregon needs a massive workforce expansion to meet emissions goals and energy needs, and traditional talent pipelines cannot meet the demand. An estimated 1.4 million Oregonians have a criminal record—and they must be part of expanding the talent pool. Programs like U-PACT are needed in correctional facilities everywhere. Focus on quality jobs fosters economic mobility. As green skills are integrated into more jobs, we must ensure they are quality jobs—with fair pay, benefits, advancement opportunities, the ability to shape decisions that affect your role, and workplaces that are safe for everyone. Oregon's clean energy sector demonstrates the potential, with median wages 37% higher than the overall workforce. The successes I saw in Oregon show what's possible, but they also reveal the scale of our challenge nationwide. Our workforce systems weren't built for this moment. We're facing a workforce readiness gap that requires immediate, strategic action. We need faster, more flexible pathways prioritizing early exposure, hands-on practice, and credentials connected to quality jobs—for Ashley Lautenschlager and millions of people like her.
