"They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety." - Benjamin Franklin
With the current bruhaha about airport security, I am reminded that the whole ball of wax began with an act of terrorism, which became the focus of a nation filled with hatred and fear. Ten years later, the fear remains, a fear so great that a proud, free people will bend and submit to a degrading scheme of personal violation, loss of privacy of their effects, and disposal of the rights of due process of law that the fore-fathers of that people had fought and died to obtain and maintain for the people over the last two hundred and thirty years.
Groups or individuals engage in terrorism to change the behavior of a larger group or institution. By using terror, a smaller, less well armed contingent can effect this change in an efficient, less expensive manner than can be done with a larger, more heavily armed force. The terrorist uses fear as his weapon; actual casualties are minimal. The promise of future *possible* casualties is the real weapon. There may never be another one, there may be a few. The nature of the terrorists environment, there can never be a large number of casualties; the terrorists just don't have the resources.
The casualty count in this, the Forever War, is minuscule compared to any major war we have fought in our history, yet our politicians still bang the drum, beating the people into a religious froth to ensure the terrorists' weapon is still sharp: Fear. Instead of letting our laws and our law enforcement handle a problem of criminal conduct, our leaders have made it one of military conflict where our military is ill suited to do battle. How do you combat the real enemy, Fear, with tanks and guns?
Instead we lay upon the altar of sacrifice our Liberties. Never before have I had to carry proof within my own country of the place of my birth. Never before have I had to allow another person, unknown to me, to rummage through my personal belongings, and to touch me when I did not want to be touched. And worse, I have no choice but to submit to this; I don't even have the option to turn around and leave, I have to submit or be detained without a warrant or due process. I have to submit to this, or stop traveling in my own country, not just overseas, but in my own community.
I hope this nightmare is temporary, and that in the years to come, historians will look back on these times as one of those dangerous periods when Americans almost let their freedoms go, but then, somehow, managed to get them back again. But my own Fear is that this time, they have gone for good. When I watch the officials at work, I see for the first time in my life the workings of an Internal Police, answerable to no one but the Secretary of their order. I do not see how Liberty can stand.
Crow.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Cowardice
It amazes and saddens me to watch the frenzy whipped up over Muslims, mosques, burkas, and all things Islamic in our (Western) world today. The worlds fastest growing religion seems poised to "take over the world," one country at a time. Commentators here in the US and Canada monger fear and hate, pointing to the least significant thing, making it a cause to rally against.
We still call to mind images of 9/11, ten years after the event. Does no one remember this war when the first battles were fought, the bombing of Berlin night club and Rome airport? Does PO2 Steadman, one of the first casualties, not deserve a place of honor in this war? And the bombing of the Marines in Beirut, and answer to our bombing Libya from the sea?
The current world situation has little to do with religion, and everything to do with power. Islamic conservatives also happen to be in power in several countries, and they are, as counties do, trying to extend their influence in trade and governance over their neighbors. We do it, thought force of arms; that is our way. They do it through subversive methods, involving patriots and zealots into a cause they manufacture to be religious; that is their way. The story is the same, written by a different hand, that is all.
Should we be in Iraq? Unreservedly, no. That war was a simple, open grab for another people's lands and ways. We had no idea as to what we were getting into, or what we were going to do once we get their.
Should we be in Afghanistan? Much more complicated. This is when the enemy has it's roots, and in a modern world, borders are vanishing in spite of dieing efforts of some to shore them up. The future is borderless. If culture, trade, and finance becomes truly global, then borders will be meaningless lines on maps, ignored by people and money. But for now, we know where the bad guys are, we just can't root him out.
Realize that in all cases where two antagonists meet in conflict, even if one is wholly victorious over the other, just meeting in the contest changes all parties. Even all the while, as we try the Islamic zealots, the meeting of cultures is changing Islam. If we can get over our moral cowardice, and meet the issues head-on, we will find a people changed from those we first met at Beirut, and Libya, and finally 9/11. Maybe we should try talking a little before we continue the shooting.
We still call to mind images of 9/11, ten years after the event. Does no one remember this war when the first battles were fought, the bombing of Berlin night club and Rome airport? Does PO2 Steadman, one of the first casualties, not deserve a place of honor in this war? And the bombing of the Marines in Beirut, and answer to our bombing Libya from the sea?
The current world situation has little to do with religion, and everything to do with power. Islamic conservatives also happen to be in power in several countries, and they are, as counties do, trying to extend their influence in trade and governance over their neighbors. We do it, thought force of arms; that is our way. They do it through subversive methods, involving patriots and zealots into a cause they manufacture to be religious; that is their way. The story is the same, written by a different hand, that is all.
Should we be in Iraq? Unreservedly, no. That war was a simple, open grab for another people's lands and ways. We had no idea as to what we were getting into, or what we were going to do once we get their.
Should we be in Afghanistan? Much more complicated. This is when the enemy has it's roots, and in a modern world, borders are vanishing in spite of dieing efforts of some to shore them up. The future is borderless. If culture, trade, and finance becomes truly global, then borders will be meaningless lines on maps, ignored by people and money. But for now, we know where the bad guys are, we just can't root him out.
Realize that in all cases where two antagonists meet in conflict, even if one is wholly victorious over the other, just meeting in the contest changes all parties. Even all the while, as we try the Islamic zealots, the meeting of cultures is changing Islam. If we can get over our moral cowardice, and meet the issues head-on, we will find a people changed from those we first met at Beirut, and Libya, and finally 9/11. Maybe we should try talking a little before we continue the shooting.
Time, redux
My recuperation in Canada is now over. I must return to the world of the working this week, a long trip of several days drive, then almost immediately into the the workplace fire. Am I ready?
A little more than two months ago I was a slab of meat on a hospital bed, unable to move my legs, and scared to death. Today I can walk and move about, mostly without the use of a cane if in the house. I have been able to stay the whole day without having a nap, another improvement. Yet I still don't sleep through the night, medication be damned.
I have worries that maybe it is time to "pull the plug," to change to a more sedentary lifestyle, one that allows for naps and daysleep, and moving about only if I feel up to it. Maybe retirement is the answer after all.
I feel there is more to give. I love teaching, and want to continue to do so. The youth of my community are reaching out for roll models, for teachers that understand and want to lead them, not yell at them. I have an intense sense of self-reward form watching the young people in my classes grow, even over just the one year I have them, and I feel privileged to be in some small way connected to their lives.
I go back into it with a profound feeling of sadness that I do not think I will be able to handle the pressures and give-and-take of everyday work. What then? I fear.
I fear that life is changing me, changing around me, and I have no control. All the things I was warned about years ago when I got this wound originally, after 20 years, are all coming true. I thought I had beaten the Beast, that I was leading a normal, fruitful life after all. Then, it comes back to me, changing me, beating me after all.
I tell my students that sometimes things happen over which we have no control. Prepare for life, I tell them, and meet it head on. Now it is time to take some of my own advise.
Crow.
A little more than two months ago I was a slab of meat on a hospital bed, unable to move my legs, and scared to death. Today I can walk and move about, mostly without the use of a cane if in the house. I have been able to stay the whole day without having a nap, another improvement. Yet I still don't sleep through the night, medication be damned.
I have worries that maybe it is time to "pull the plug," to change to a more sedentary lifestyle, one that allows for naps and daysleep, and moving about only if I feel up to it. Maybe retirement is the answer after all.
I feel there is more to give. I love teaching, and want to continue to do so. The youth of my community are reaching out for roll models, for teachers that understand and want to lead them, not yell at them. I have an intense sense of self-reward form watching the young people in my classes grow, even over just the one year I have them, and I feel privileged to be in some small way connected to their lives.
I go back into it with a profound feeling of sadness that I do not think I will be able to handle the pressures and give-and-take of everyday work. What then? I fear.
I fear that life is changing me, changing around me, and I have no control. All the things I was warned about years ago when I got this wound originally, after 20 years, are all coming true. I thought I had beaten the Beast, that I was leading a normal, fruitful life after all. Then, it comes back to me, changing me, beating me after all.
I tell my students that sometimes things happen over which we have no control. Prepare for life, I tell them, and meet it head on. Now it is time to take some of my own advise.
Crow.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Sudbury Saturday Night
We spent the week in Sudbury, Ontario, the site of what remains the richest combined nickel and copper deposits in the world, along with platinum, gold, gallium, and one of the world's only supplies of rhodium. We toured one of the older mines, which has been modernized to show how mines are run today, which was something just this side of profound.
The tunnels were chiseled out of hard granite and gneiss, with wire mess holding up the walls, and electric light showing the way. There was water dripping constantly, and we walked in shallow puddles of it throughout the tour. I suddenly got a real appreciation for water removal in mines!
We also got to sit in a rescue station for a few minutes... quite eerie, and when the guide turned off the lights to give the visitors a feel for how dark it is several hundred feet under the surface, I was back on the boat in a flash. The lights were off only seconds, but I had already gone through my emergency drill for the sub in my mind, and knew what my next move was when they came back on. Some things leave the body, but never leave the mind.
Most profound of the whole trip is that all this geology for the region, the nickel bearing ores, the igneous and metamorphic rock in the middle of a sedamentary formation with no volcanoes, is all from a meteor strike about 2 billion years ago that hit with enough violence to change the rock in the earth for a 200-300 km radius, and to simultaneously deposit huge amounts of metals. The nickel, copper, platinum, and especially the rhodium, are all star-stuff, all from "out there."
Exploration in the "Old Days" relied on the good eye of a trained geologist, and a lot of luck. Now they have sonar, underground radar, and computers. Today, a full 100 years after the first mine was begun, the Sudbury nickel deposit has been mapped, and it is a lens of material that has not even been started to be mined yet! They haven't even gotten to the really good purity stuff, according to models of the ground. Wow. Wow.
What they DID learn in the 100 years of nickel mining here is that the thinks men do can and will change the Earth. The smelting process liberates a tremendous amount of sulfur dioxide, and that along with other waste gases and metals actually stained the rocks here black over the years. You can tell a development from after 1976 (when they began to use stacks, and to remove SO2) from before, because the rocks, especially large boulders that are uncovered, are grey. Some have a characteristic line on them where the dirt was.
Sudbury also stank. There is an old song about miners cutting loose, "Sudbury Saturday Night," which is local folklore about the only people that would live here: miners, their reluctant families that couldn't live elsewhere, and the camp followers that usually follow a large group of foolhardy, hard-working men. My SO remembers trying to eat a meal in Sudbury and not being able to eat the food for the smell. Slag heaps were everywhere, and since stacks didn't exist, the smoke from the smelter just rolled over the town. Sudbury became all but a dead mining camp.
They learned form that disaster: the SO2 is removed from the effluent as much as possible now, and sold as another revenue stream. All effluent is put out of tall stacks, away from people, and the one slag heap is carefully cultivated as it cools into a specific shape to be built on. Older heaps were covered and capped, and now have housing and parks, and the town of New Sudbury built on their remains.
And the mining continues, unfortunately fatalities also continue. A miner died two years ago in the mine, and the company and government were completing an inquiry as we were leaving. I don't know that mines will ever be completely safe, but I think the one we saw is much safer than those past.
In a final moment, I went rock hunting, and found a listed gneiss deposit on the Ontario geological tour that was an outcropping of the meteor strike, age listed as 1.85 billion years old. I picked up rocks that were a quarter of the age of the Earth itself.
Which brought home to me: the Earth does not need Man. The Earth does not really care what the temperature is, or how much SO2 or NOx is in the atmosphere. The Earth will survive just fine with or without these things, because the Earth is a ball of rock. Man is the one that requires oxygenated air to breathe, and water in a certain pH range in order to survive. It is Man that should be aware of the conditions in the environment he finds himself, irregardless of who or what causes the conditions. If there is global warming, then Man must do something if he wishes to continue on the Earth, it doesn't matter what is causing the warming. If there is too much SO2 in the atmosphere, then Man must do something to reduce it if he wishes to see many more summers, no matter where the SO2 is coming from.
And if making money is to take precedence over survival of our kind, then just pass a law saying you can print money on your computer and everyone will make money all the time. Then we can stand together in the sun until it roasts our skins and grows tumors all about us. "There is no damage from the Sun!" we will say bravely, waving our money at each other. "The Sun is just a plot, no one can keep me from making money!"
One day the Earth will stop being our Mother, and will support us no longer, and the Sun will bleach our bones. And all our money will only last about 16 months, far less than the damage we have done that killed us.
Crow
The tunnels were chiseled out of hard granite and gneiss, with wire mess holding up the walls, and electric light showing the way. There was water dripping constantly, and we walked in shallow puddles of it throughout the tour. I suddenly got a real appreciation for water removal in mines!
We also got to sit in a rescue station for a few minutes... quite eerie, and when the guide turned off the lights to give the visitors a feel for how dark it is several hundred feet under the surface, I was back on the boat in a flash. The lights were off only seconds, but I had already gone through my emergency drill for the sub in my mind, and knew what my next move was when they came back on. Some things leave the body, but never leave the mind.
Most profound of the whole trip is that all this geology for the region, the nickel bearing ores, the igneous and metamorphic rock in the middle of a sedamentary formation with no volcanoes, is all from a meteor strike about 2 billion years ago that hit with enough violence to change the rock in the earth for a 200-300 km radius, and to simultaneously deposit huge amounts of metals. The nickel, copper, platinum, and especially the rhodium, are all star-stuff, all from "out there."
Exploration in the "Old Days" relied on the good eye of a trained geologist, and a lot of luck. Now they have sonar, underground radar, and computers. Today, a full 100 years after the first mine was begun, the Sudbury nickel deposit has been mapped, and it is a lens of material that has not even been started to be mined yet! They haven't even gotten to the really good purity stuff, according to models of the ground. Wow. Wow.
What they DID learn in the 100 years of nickel mining here is that the thinks men do can and will change the Earth. The smelting process liberates a tremendous amount of sulfur dioxide, and that along with other waste gases and metals actually stained the rocks here black over the years. You can tell a development from after 1976 (when they began to use stacks, and to remove SO2) from before, because the rocks, especially large boulders that are uncovered, are grey. Some have a characteristic line on them where the dirt was.
Sudbury also stank. There is an old song about miners cutting loose, "Sudbury Saturday Night," which is local folklore about the only people that would live here: miners, their reluctant families that couldn't live elsewhere, and the camp followers that usually follow a large group of foolhardy, hard-working men. My SO remembers trying to eat a meal in Sudbury and not being able to eat the food for the smell. Slag heaps were everywhere, and since stacks didn't exist, the smoke from the smelter just rolled over the town. Sudbury became all but a dead mining camp.
They learned form that disaster: the SO2 is removed from the effluent as much as possible now, and sold as another revenue stream. All effluent is put out of tall stacks, away from people, and the one slag heap is carefully cultivated as it cools into a specific shape to be built on. Older heaps were covered and capped, and now have housing and parks, and the town of New Sudbury built on their remains.
And the mining continues, unfortunately fatalities also continue. A miner died two years ago in the mine, and the company and government were completing an inquiry as we were leaving. I don't know that mines will ever be completely safe, but I think the one we saw is much safer than those past.
In a final moment, I went rock hunting, and found a listed gneiss deposit on the Ontario geological tour that was an outcropping of the meteor strike, age listed as 1.85 billion years old. I picked up rocks that were a quarter of the age of the Earth itself.
Which brought home to me: the Earth does not need Man. The Earth does not really care what the temperature is, or how much SO2 or NOx is in the atmosphere. The Earth will survive just fine with or without these things, because the Earth is a ball of rock. Man is the one that requires oxygenated air to breathe, and water in a certain pH range in order to survive. It is Man that should be aware of the conditions in the environment he finds himself, irregardless of who or what causes the conditions. If there is global warming, then Man must do something if he wishes to continue on the Earth, it doesn't matter what is causing the warming. If there is too much SO2 in the atmosphere, then Man must do something to reduce it if he wishes to see many more summers, no matter where the SO2 is coming from.
And if making money is to take precedence over survival of our kind, then just pass a law saying you can print money on your computer and everyone will make money all the time. Then we can stand together in the sun until it roasts our skins and grows tumors all about us. "There is no damage from the Sun!" we will say bravely, waving our money at each other. "The Sun is just a plot, no one can keep me from making money!"
One day the Earth will stop being our Mother, and will support us no longer, and the Sun will bleach our bones. And all our money will only last about 16 months, far less than the damage we have done that killed us.
Crow
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
New Way to look at Food
We went to St. Jacobs' today, the large Mennonite tourists pit north of here. Its kind of sad to see a people's devotion to the simple ways, their devotion to their God, devotion to following the simpler rules of an earlier society reduced to a tourists spectacle, wholly bought into the chase for the almighty dollar, part and parcel on the road to Mammon with the rest of us.
But for me, an even more special trip to Wonderland this time; I have been unable to get my blood sugar under control this week, and this morning I felt as though I would never wake. I actually felt drugged in some way, even though I had not taken any. I feel like I am in a free-fall, and I don't know where this will come out.
Finally awake, we went to St. Jacobs', more for the exercise for me than anything, and to see the Farmer's Market, only open on Tuesdays and Sundays.
So I walked down the isles of pies, and cakes, sweets made from Real Ontario Maple Syrup, and buttertarts, middle eastern sweets and Japanese sweets; then table upon table of home-made jellies, jams, preserves, marmalades, honeys, butters - if it is sweet and goes in a jar, they had it for sale.
Water water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.
There was nothing I could touch. It was finally sinking into my rather thick skull that there was absolutely nothing here for me but a slow, painful demise. I have to gain control of this monster or it will do away with me early.
I hate that I cannot eat the things I love to eat. I hate that I cannot eat all the sweet and marvelous things I love, like the maple syrup candies, but they are killing me. I have to control what goes into my mouth, finally, before it controls me. Only I can do that.
My resolve: to eat only what I should, and to gain control over my diet and my blood sugar levels. I give myself one week to show some grip, then one month to show real resolve in all facets in life. This is my present to me.
MMG
But for me, an even more special trip to Wonderland this time; I have been unable to get my blood sugar under control this week, and this morning I felt as though I would never wake. I actually felt drugged in some way, even though I had not taken any. I feel like I am in a free-fall, and I don't know where this will come out.
Finally awake, we went to St. Jacobs', more for the exercise for me than anything, and to see the Farmer's Market, only open on Tuesdays and Sundays.
So I walked down the isles of pies, and cakes, sweets made from Real Ontario Maple Syrup, and buttertarts, middle eastern sweets and Japanese sweets; then table upon table of home-made jellies, jams, preserves, marmalades, honeys, butters - if it is sweet and goes in a jar, they had it for sale.
Water water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.
There was nothing I could touch. It was finally sinking into my rather thick skull that there was absolutely nothing here for me but a slow, painful demise. I have to gain control of this monster or it will do away with me early.
I hate that I cannot eat the things I love to eat. I hate that I cannot eat all the sweet and marvelous things I love, like the maple syrup candies, but they are killing me. I have to control what goes into my mouth, finally, before it controls me. Only I can do that.
My resolve: to eat only what I should, and to gain control over my diet and my blood sugar levels. I give myself one week to show some grip, then one month to show real resolve in all facets in life. This is my present to me.
MMG
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
The End of the Bees
My mate and I strolled through the isles of the local home renovating store, when I came upon what we were looking for: bee spray. But this was a new kind of spray, a foam!
I studied the instructions carefully, since I was going to be on the "apply" end, while I figured my partner would be on the "spectate" end of our mission. The idea is to spray the nest entrance hole with the foam, and block them in (!), then walk up to the nest (!!) and stick the applicator wand directly into the hole itself (!!!) and fill the nest full of foam (!!!!). Each exclamation point represents the amount of sweat that was appearing on my forehead *in the store* just reading the instructions.
After some pacing, souls searching, and consultation with the T factories, I purchased the bee foam. Why not, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? Besides, I haven't been stung by a hornet in over twenty years, I was due.
I did choose to wait until evening, on the presumption that most of the hornets would be safely in their little hornet beds and not out looking for me. I tested the system on a near-by bush (impressive range!), then slowly walked up to within about ten feet of the nest. This is where, as we used to say in the Navy, I had to 'reach down and find a pair.' It took some fumbling around, but I finally found them, and took up my position and sprayed the nest.
Worked beautifully!! Just like a huge blob of shaving cream, the nest was now blocked by this lethal substance that shielded me from the hateful hornets. I stepped up to the nest and heard just how hateful: the nest was actually vibrating with angry insects. I lost my pair at this point and stepped back.
A new thought entered my brain: what if, in sticking the six-inch applicator into the nest, I tear a hole into it, allowing the hornets to escape? What if the foam over-fills it, and it breaks open. Did those guys think of that? This was looking ever more like a mixed-up, Rube Goldberg setup every second.
Finding my pair once more, I stepped up again and followed the instructions (when in doubt, follow the instructions!), filling the angry, buzzing nest with foam. One bee did escape, but he took off before I could attack him (interesting reversal).
I think the nest saga is over. Tomorrow, I plan to take the nest down and run it to the dumpster. Once more the back porch will be ours to enjoy fully without insect interference.
What I learned with this episode in my life is that there are new things that are coming out almost daily, technology and science has introduced things to our lives that make it easier to do almost everything that we used to do with more sweat, danger, and personal pain. You can embrace it, or continue in the 'old ways,' your choice. I think the old ways are old for a reason.
The secret, and the goal for our youth, will be to meld the new ways with the good stewardship of the earth. That is what we leave you, young ones.
MMG
I studied the instructions carefully, since I was going to be on the "apply" end, while I figured my partner would be on the "spectate" end of our mission. The idea is to spray the nest entrance hole with the foam, and block them in (!), then walk up to the nest (!!) and stick the applicator wand directly into the hole itself (!!!) and fill the nest full of foam (!!!!). Each exclamation point represents the amount of sweat that was appearing on my forehead *in the store* just reading the instructions.
After some pacing, souls searching, and consultation with the T factories, I purchased the bee foam. Why not, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? Besides, I haven't been stung by a hornet in over twenty years, I was due.
I did choose to wait until evening, on the presumption that most of the hornets would be safely in their little hornet beds and not out looking for me. I tested the system on a near-by bush (impressive range!), then slowly walked up to within about ten feet of the nest. This is where, as we used to say in the Navy, I had to 'reach down and find a pair.' It took some fumbling around, but I finally found them, and took up my position and sprayed the nest.
Worked beautifully!! Just like a huge blob of shaving cream, the nest was now blocked by this lethal substance that shielded me from the hateful hornets. I stepped up to the nest and heard just how hateful: the nest was actually vibrating with angry insects. I lost my pair at this point and stepped back.
A new thought entered my brain: what if, in sticking the six-inch applicator into the nest, I tear a hole into it, allowing the hornets to escape? What if the foam over-fills it, and it breaks open. Did those guys think of that? This was looking ever more like a mixed-up, Rube Goldberg setup every second.
Finding my pair once more, I stepped up again and followed the instructions (when in doubt, follow the instructions!), filling the angry, buzzing nest with foam. One bee did escape, but he took off before I could attack him (interesting reversal).
I think the nest saga is over. Tomorrow, I plan to take the nest down and run it to the dumpster. Once more the back porch will be ours to enjoy fully without insect interference.
What I learned with this episode in my life is that there are new things that are coming out almost daily, technology and science has introduced things to our lives that make it easier to do almost everything that we used to do with more sweat, danger, and personal pain. You can embrace it, or continue in the 'old ways,' your choice. I think the old ways are old for a reason.
The secret, and the goal for our youth, will be to meld the new ways with the good stewardship of the earth. That is what we leave you, young ones.
MMG
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Welcome to Canada
After three days of driving, rough weather in West Virginia, cool mornings, and finally, a smooth border crossing thanks once again to the Canadian Border and Customs Service, I find myself once again in the land of Gold Finches and restful days to complete my recovery. Not my usual two and a half month vacation, but I will take what I can get at this point.
So after a good night's sleep, I am ready for anything. Even when my significant other comes in from the back, and says that she has discovered a wasp's nest on the back porch, and would like for me to knock it down sometime today. 'Sure,' I tell her, 'right after coffee and the morning crossword.'
'Well, don't you do these things at night,' she asks?
Pardoning her brief foray into things Man, I reassure my mate that *I* am not a candidate for one of those lowT commercials. I'll knock it down in broad daylight. I grabbed my broomstick and mostly depleted can of wasp spray and went around the house to the back porch.
Of course, I hadn't counted on her miss-characterization of the situation. That's the 'wasp's nest' in the picture above. As I came around the corner and faced the 'nest,' a full blown Bald-Faced Hornet's Nest. I not only felt my T go low, but I felt my T factories looking for new and unexplored hiding places. You just don't see these things very often anymore, I rationalized over a third cup of joe. Very tricky, need just the right kind of spray, the type that can hit an escaping wasp at thirty feet, in the dark, and kill it in nanoseconds.
So while I am making my plans and shopping lists, the hornets get to enjoy another day of life, maybe two. Heck, who are they bothering, anyway? They are just buzzing around, happily pollinating the local gardens, attacking neighborhood yipping dogs, and otherwise minding their own business. Maybe we should think about Man's wanton inhumanity towards Nature...
Crow
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