One of my former neighbours in my home town of Newark-on-Trent, Nottinghamshire, was a widow whose son was a sailor in the merchant navy.

He did not like to tell his mother when he would be coming home on leave because he was afraid she would worry if he was delayed on the way. But his mother always knew anyway — thanks to the family cat.

This pet was very attached to this young man and, an hour or two before he arrived, it sat on the front door mat and began miaowing loudly as if equipped with some sixth sense which told it that he was on the way.

The cat was never wrong and this early-warning system gave our neighbour time to get her son’s room ready and prepare him a meal in the certainty that he would turn up soon afterwards.

This is just one of many examples of animals displaying the apparently psychic tendencies more normally associated with some of their human counterparts.

Many cats seem to know, for example, when they are going to  the vet’s —  hiding away in the hope that their owners might get bored  of looking for them and give up on the idea.

More dramatically, some animals seem to sense when their owners have had accidents or have died in distant places — as documented on my database of more than 5,000 case histories involving psychic phenomena in animals.

This includes 177 cases of dogs apparently responding to the death or suffering of their absent masters or mistresses, mostly by howling, whining or whimpering, and 62 accounts of cats showing similar signs of distress.

Conversely, in 32 instances people knew when their pet had died or was in dire need, even when they were many miles away at the time.

As we will see, these paranormal powers are of potentially huge value to human beings in the prediction of natural disasters, such as earthquakes and tsunamis.

And yet, as someone who has spent his entire adult life working as a biologist, holding senior academic posts both here and in the U.S.,  I am constantly surprised and frustrated by the refusal of my colleagues in the scientific world to take them seriously.

Without acknowledging such phenomena, it’s difficult to see how we can fully understand the behaviour of not just cats and dogs, but wild animals such as wolves.

The latter were studied by naturalist William Long who, in 1919, wrote a book that described the behaviour of a pack he had followed in Canada. He found separated members of wolf packs remained in contact with each other and responded to each other’s activities while many miles apart.

On one occasion, a limping female became separated from the pack Long was tracking and lay recovering in a den while the rest of the wolves moved on. Days passed, then suddenly the female reappeared among the pack.

The wolves’ responsiveness appeared to involve far more than simply following habitual paths, tracking scent trails, or hearing howling or other sounds, and Long wondered whether the same abilities might be found in pets.

He described some simple experiments with a friend’s dog which showed a knack for predicting its master’s return home. The dog would go to stand at the door soon after its owner had started his journey from work.

No one followed Long’s lead in researching this because, among scientists, the subject of telepathy has always been taboo. But in the Nineties I began asking friends and neighbours if they had ever noticed that their animals could anticipate when someone was coming home. I soon received dozens of reports, and by 2011 my database included more than 1,000 accounts of dogs and more than 600 of cats behaving in this way.

In telephone surveys in Britain and the U.S., I found that in about 50  per cent of dog-owning households and about 30  per cent of those with cats, the animals were said to anticipate the arrival of a member of the family. And it was not just dogs and cats that were involved. More than 20 other species showed similar behaviour, especially parrots and horses, but also a ferret, several bottle-fed lambs raised as pets, and pet geese.

Many of those I spoke to made it clear that the animals’ responses were not simply reactions to the sounds of familiar cars or footsteps in the street. They happened too long in advance of the person’s arrival, and often even when they came home by bus or train. It wasn’t just routine. Some people were plumbers, lawyers and taxi drivers who worked irregular hours, but still their pets were ready to welcome them when they got home.

Intrigued by this, I carried out experiments. The most extensive were with a terrier called Jaytee, who lived near Manchester with his owner Pam Smart. Initial observations showed that he was at the window on 85  per cent of the occasions when Pam returned home.

I wanted to be sure that this was not down to Jaytee learning Pam’s routine, or picking up on other clues, so in a series of more formal tests, we arranged for Pam to be at least five miles away from home during each test.

I then set up a camera to film Jaytee’s behaviour and each day selected a random time for Pam to return home, asking her to travel by taxi so as to avoid any cues which might have come from the engine noise of a familiar car. She did not know in advance when she would go home, but was informed when to do so by a pager.

On average, Jaytee was at the window only 4  per cent of the time during the main period of Pam’s absence, and 55  per cent of the time when she was on the way back.

I did similar experiments with other dogs, including a Rhodesian Ridgeback from Manchester called Kane.

He looked out of the window, with his paws on a front table, when his owner came home — but whereas Jaytee’s vigil began shortly before his owner set off, Kane took up his post only when his mistress was already homeward bound.  Both these and the many other cases I have investigated suggest that these animals have some kind of telepathic bond with their owners.

Alongside telepathy, animals also seem to have a sense of impending doom. Since classical times, people have reported unusual animal behaviour before earthquakes, and I have collected much modern evidence.

In all these cases there were descriptions of wild and domesticated animals acting in fearful, anxious or unusual ways. Some possible explanations are that they pick up vibrations in the earth’s surface, or detect subterranean gases.

Or perhaps, as I am suggesting, animals rely on something which defies current scientific understanding. In the case of the Asian tsunami on December 26, 2004, they appeared to be aware that something was happening half an hour beforehand.

According to villagers in Bang Koey, Thailand, a herd of buffalo were grazing by the beach when they suddenly lifted their heads and looked out to sea, ears standing upright. They turned and stampeded up the hill, followed by bewildered villagers, whose lives were thereby saved.

Some animals anticipate other kinds of natural disaster such as avalanches, and even man-made catastrophes. During World War II, many families relied on their pets’ behaviour to warn them of air raids before official warnings were given.

The animal reactions occurred when enemy planes were still hundreds of miles away, long before the animals could have heard them coming, and some dogs in London anticipated the explosion of German V-2 rockets, even though these missiles were supersonic and could not have been heard in advance.

With very few exceptions, the ability of animals to anticipate disasters has been ignored by Western scientists, but things are very different elsewhere.

Since the Seventies, in earthquake-prone areas of China, the authorities have encouraged people to report unusual animal behaviour. In several cases they have issued warnings that enabled cities to be evacuated hours before earthquakes struck, saving tens of thousands of lives.

By paying attention to unusual animal behaviour, earthquake and tsunami warning systems might be feasible in parts of the world that are at risk from these disasters. Millions of people could be asked to take part in this project.

They could be told what kinds of behaviour animals might show if a disaster were imminent. If people noticed such behaviour, they would telephone a hotline. A computer system would analyse the places of origin of the messages. If there was an unusually large number, it would signal an alarm, and display on a map the places from which the calls were coming.

Exploring the potential for animal-based warning systems would cost relatively little. If it turns out that they are indeed reacting to subtle, physical changes, then seismologists should be able to use instruments to detect these and to make better predictions themselves.

If, on the other hand, it turns out that what we call ‘presentiment’ plays a part, we should embrace it, regardless of whether or not we understand it. Ignoring it, or trying to explain it away, will leave us less protected against the unexpected ravages of nature.

Source: The Daily Mail
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2084017/A-Cambridge-scientist-believes-seen-
beginning-animals-telepathic-powers.html

When most students move to Ball State they expect to share their residence hall with hundreds of other students. But not with hundreds of students and a ghost.

Known on campus for being the "over 21" hall, Elliott Hall's other claim to fame is that it's haunted.

Jesse Fivecoate, senior cultural anthropology major, is the president of the anthropology club, which studies and conducts tours about on-campus paranormal activity. According to him, the following is the story surrounding the Elliott haunting:

"There is no official story in regards to the ghost in Elliott, but the most known version of the hall's haunting involves a young man named William Schamberg. After fighting in World War II, Schamberg came to Muncie with the intent of attending the university. During his time at Ball State, he lived in Elliott and due to the mental and physical scarring the war left him, he never left the building. He was said to become a social introvert due to his war experience.

In addition, William suffered from depression after his girlfriend dumped him. He decided to end his suffering by taking his own life in the fourth floor library of Elliott. Some have reported that William hung himself from the rafters of the library and on occasion, if one listens, the replaying of his suicide can be heard. The sound of a table or chair being dragged across the floor followed by the sweeping sound of William's feet against the floor as his lifeless body sways from the rafters."

Colleen Boyd, an anthropology professor, said she is no expert in paranormal studies but has heard of multiple student encounters and very few faculty encounters with the ghost of Elliott Hall.

Boyd said she finds what students report and their beliefs in the paranormal to be interesting. She said students have approached her about overseeing a paranormal club but for now, she is interested in people's paranormal interests.

"One interesting encounter I have heard of is a student being awoken by a book being thrown at her head," Boyd said. "Students have experienced other encounters with this figure, and I have studied their experiences. No one knows the real story behind the ghost, but there has been consistency with the tale shared amongst the campus."

Despite William's tendency to throw things, Fivecoate said he believes Elliott is safe for students to live in.

"I have not come across any story of the ghost that puts the person in any danger, other than the occasional book or small object thrown at them," he said.

Though Deane lives in a building with paranormal activity, she said living at Elliott is like living anywhere else on campus.

"I am not really bothered by the ghost in Elliott," sophomore journalism education major Samantha Deane said. "I'm more cautious about things and more paranoid about little noises, though. There's a different atmosphere in Elliott as opposed to the other dorms and it's not because the building is haunted."

Jessie Cortesi, sophomore history major, chose to live in Elliott in search of a more active living community. She said she isn't freaked out by the paranormal activity in her campus home.

"The ghosts don't bother me but when I go home, my roommate won't sleep in the room alone," she said. "Elliott is a beautiful building, and I love living here, even with the ghost."

Elliott Hall was built to replicate a housing facility at Princeton University. Students believe it brings a Hogwarts aspect to Ball State. Whatever way it's looked at, Elliott Hall contributes to the classic character of the campus.

The smallest residence hall on campus was originally opened as a men's hall in 1938. It now serves as a coed abode to about 120 residents. The building has three floors for residents: the first designated for students who are at least 21 years old and the second and third floors for any students.

The residence hall was named for Frank Elliott Ball, the son of Frank C. Ball, who was one of the five founders of the Ball Corporation and involved in the creation of Ball State. - bsudailynews

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Elliott Hall haunts Ball State with true ghost story

(10/29/2001) - Although the "Haunting of Will's House" is over and done with, its images are nightmares waiting in dark corners.

With Thursday night quoted among college students as the beginning of the weekend, the turnout for the opening of the annual haunted house seemed tepid compared to other haunted houses.

It begins in the rustic gathering room, and a man, senior Jason Hawley, hovered over in a long navy coat and began the storytelling, which mixed a little bit of fact with lots of fiction.

The original story about the haunted floor of Elliott Hall?

According to Hawley, the haunting begins when a man by the name of William Schaumburg, who was a World War II veteran, returned to Muncie after an injury due to the war. He lived on the fourth floor of Elliot hall, while his girlfriend resided in Lucinda. After his girlfriend broke his heart, he returned to his residence and hung himself.

What was the story Hawley told to scare the house goers?

William Davidson just returned from WWI because of nerve gas exposure, and because of that exposure, went to a mental ward. That mental ward, Hawley said, was the fourth floor of Elliot Hall and was once part of Ball Memorial Hospital. William was about to receive a lobotomy, but after killing three nurses, he hung himself.

And so the tour of the haunted fourth floor began. Hawley stood right under the noose where William ended his life. He asked the tour group if there were any mental receptors in the group.

Before the journey began, a woman strapped to an electric chair met her death, when the masked character hit the switch. She screamed, she writhed in pain, but she just didn't convince.

Then Hawley, the leader, was gone.

Draped over every corner, along with distant screams, always appropriate for someplace haunted, the path lead towards a maze of three different rooms.

The first room was that of a ghoulish bar. The drunken dead were passed out, swerving, gurgling and trying to talk, but all that came out were grunted moans. Surprisingly, a non-ghoul creeped in and sat down at the bar, dressed nicely in a ribbed sweater and trendy jeans.

After the bar, the next room's strobe lights blinked and danced. In the confusion of the flashing lights, two black mattresses fell down, and zombies slowly and clumsily began to chase in search of human flesh. The only human flesh that was available rolled their eyes and turned out, walking toward the exit sign.

There was no surprise when they walked into a lighted room featuring a coffin with a vampire trying to climb out. No one's heart raced, only laughter possessed the vampiric surroundings.

The light at the end of the tunnel, after Hawley showed himself again, was a room with artifacts from WWI placed about, along with an Egyptian statue of a god. The group stood there, confused and bored, not sure where to go next. But then a soldier came in, shot Hawley, and by true surprise, the Egyptian god walked after one of the group members as she shrieked.

But remember the cardinal rule of haunted housing: no touching. Sadly, that's exactly where the fears and anxiety stayed: untouched. - bsudailynews

Source: Phantoms and Monsters
http://naturalplane.blogspot.com/2012/01/student-suicide-inspired-indiana.html