Before I begin, remember that I write this with the utmost love for the College and its athletics programs.
We need a new mascot.
There is nothing about the panther that's specific to Middlebury or to Vermont. There is nothing about the panther that's specific to anything, really. According to Wikipedia, 33 schools across the country "boast" the panther as their mascot or nickname, making it the fourth most common college mascot. And that doesn't count schools like UVM, our neighbors to the north, whose nickname is the Catamounts, which is just a fancier way of saying panther.
Further, there isn't a strong historical connection between Middlebury and the panther. Director of Athletics Erin Quinn, an often reliable historian of Middlebury athletics, could provide no explanation for the decision, and a quick perusal of the written history of The College on the Hill also yielded no answer. Instead, a recent review of the different sculptures and art on campus titled "Art in Public Places" written by Director of the Middlebury College Museum of Art and Walter Cerf Distinguished College Professor Richard Saunders, provides the answer to this central question: "The black Panther was chosen as Middlebury's mascot after a local merchant established a contest to choose an appropriate symbol for the college in 1922."
The unnamed merchant may deserve the benefit of the doubt, as there were likely panthers in Vermont in 1922, but they left this region long ago, as they did throughout the Northeast.
It's high time, therefore, that Middlebury embraced a new mascot and nickname – one better suited both to the locale and to the NESCAC as well. Middlebury's conference rivals have little regard for convention when it comes to their mascots and nicknames. Only Wesleyan (the Cardinals) and Bates (the Bobcats) have generic nicknames; the mascots of the rest of the conference range from the ungulates – the Camels of Connecticut College and the Jumbos of Tufts – to glorified school founders, such as the Ephs (Williams' tribute to founder Ephraim Williams, but manifested in the form of a purple cow) and the Lord Jeffs (Amherst's nickname, deriving from Lord Jeffrey Amherst who, in addition to founding Amherst, was responsible for distributing smallpox-infested blankets to the Native Americans during the French and Indian War).
However misguided some of the mascots may be, there is clearly a desire for creativity and individuality with respect to the nicknames of our NESCAC counterparts. And, with the exception of Conn. College, less popular mascots do not appear to lead to negative externalities on such things as the school's ability to recruit.
Middlebury, therefore, cannot help but consider a switch. And, by chance, there is a mascot that combines the ungulate characteristics of the camel and the elephant while instilling a sense of Middlebury pride – an animal, in fact, much larger than a panther and one that continues to roam the forests of Vermont: the moose.
If you have not had a chance to see a moose during your time in Vermont or elsewhere, it is difficult to describe the elegance and majesty of the elusive creature. Moose are not lanky and awkward, but powerful and graceful; more similar to a deft left tackle or a bruising power forward, than one might think.
And while largely docile creatures, the moose becomes strikingly aggressive when threatened. According to the Yellowstone National Park, moose attack more people than bears and wolves combined.
The size and strength of the moose means the great creatures have few natural predators, befitting of a school that just won its first Directors' Cup. Their inclination for solitude and sobriety, meanwhile, are befitting of a school founded in the principles of the liberal arts, which include pause for reflection and contemplation of the higher things. Could any animal represent these ideals better than the moose?
If nothing else, imagine 2,000 fans at Youngman Field at Alumni Stadium yelling in unison on third and long, "Mooooooooooose."
A Call For a New Mascot
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