The County Fair Parade

The Big Parade: (The photo is our son's entry in the parade in Fairbanks. Makes me jealous.)

The participants stacked up in front of the school, all fidgeting with their get-ups and contraptions, all anticipating the slow run through town. The adult spectators were mostly comfortable in their folding lawn chairs, many trying to get as close as possible but others seeking refuge in the shade. The kids, of all ages, had it figured out and were expending considerable energy running and screaming knowing what I forgot to remember, this is going to be a candy haul. Youthful hungry hands flew in the air as others rolled on the grassy lawns preparing their young bodies to lunge for the thrown morsels.  It seemed even the toddlers were on to it, as if it was in the air.

Strange as it may seem, we found ourselves, that would be all four of us, all mature, food conscious adults holding out our hands to signal for the candy toss.  I tried to hold back but the thought of a toffee was just too great and while I did not abscond any sugary sweets form some hapless kid, I had my wife hustle out and snag a couple of favorites. That got a look of disgust, but I did score the swag----and I was not the lone adult as Rick and Maureen couldn‘t hold back.

The military carried the flag much as they did when I was a kid back during the Eisenhower administration. They didn’t have the combat outfits but still were crisp and dignified. Oddly, they seemed to have the old M1s brought back from the big war and no black guns with banana clips.

I couldn’t help but notice the cars, or  I might say remnants of cars, that were destined for the demolition derby. A favorite was the two rat rods that looked right out of Road Warrior. As a motor head, it was not  hard to be impressed by how well the engines ran. The exhaust pipes penetrated upward above the engine emitting a sound both mean and hungry but exciting to my personal ear. That was enough to scare me into Thunder Dome right there. Then there was the pink dented unit piloted by a attractive young lady who I am sure was hell bent on smashing the grinning guys in the other wrecks. Ya, pink. The news on the street the next day was she didn’t last long. Next year.

Of course, the Wisconsin Marching Band was huge for me but I did miss the backwards hats they used to wear after a football win. They high stepped in the hot sun as I sipped a nice iced tea. Oh, how I remember following the victorious band as they headed down State Street in Madison all to the cheering of a rowdy crowd of glass raising students. On Wisconsin, oh ya.

A number of shiny new tractors went by demonstrating where agriculture had moved while I was sleeping. My wife mentioned in amazement that one of the units was bigger than our first home after which I remarked, and cost about 5 times a much. I found myself wanting to see a nice old International M or maybe a pre-war John Deere with its two cylinders popping in rhythm. I know I am a nostalgic old coot but I could understand those. The new ones are more like space ships all digitized and GPSed, tools out of Star Wars. All they needed was some furry creature at the wheel howling at the moon.

There were plenty of aspiring policemen all wanting to be the high sheriff. My favorite was the individual who brought along a flashy red Corvette with  a pleasant collection of beauty queens. Another had a meandering marching collection of waving supporters. We scored two magnetic Packers/Badgers schedules for the refrigerators from one sincere candidate. Gotta be some votes there.

The fire truck collection made me secure as it appeared that just the magnitude of the many vehicles could scare the dickens out of any fire. I am not sure they rolled the sirens enough but there was some honking and of course the casting of unlimited amounts of candy to all those scrambling kids who after the first few acts had accumulated enough carbohydrates to power the entire first through fifth grades for a full year. The parents were only slightly amused---but did tote the laden bags.

As the last outfit slid by, we just sat and reflected, yes reflected on the fact  I had just consumed 8 toffees, 3 frozen sticks of unknown flavor and composition and a Tootsie Roll. Our senses had been over-whelmed by apparatus and unimaginable activity. Wow! I had to go home for a nap, as the kids fired up the after burners.

Exciting Backyard Wildlife

The backyard is not necessarily the best place to see wildlife but here in Wisconsin it can be pretty good considering we live smack-dab in the middle of the village. It is also true that a number of animals and, I suppose insects, have become urbanized, even though this is hardly what one would call urban. We are just a small tidy village sitting on an old fading mill pond in the middle of farm country.

 I will not go into a rant about the wealth of it all because most of our friends do live in farmettes where wildlife runs wild---from bears, to fishers, to wolves and many butterflies of all sorts. To hell with them (the friend), for I have to concentrate on what is here as we have our tea and biscuits each morning.

This summer has been a pretty good run including what I believe was a Brown Thrasher. There was this bird, a mid sized bird, thrashing around in the garden, just hoping and flitting about all in a great rush. I found myself asking, "What the hell is thrashing around in the garden?" It was very brown and had a long tail. Didn't seem hurt or deranged, or have whirling disease, just generally thrashing. Looked in the book and what do ya know, a Brown Thrasher.

Well, that is not the end of it all. We have had a fair amount of butterflies and very much a shortage Cabbage butterflies---which does not break my heart. I have yet to see a cabbage worm--those little green bastards that feast on my various mustard family plants. We have seen White Admirals, Red Spotted Purples and Red Admirals. Not a bad trifecta of that family. The Tiger Swallow Tails seem down a bit but we do see them. High on the list was a Giant Swallow Tail, but the truth is, it was not on this property but on Blue Mound by Mt. Horab. I have only seen two in my life so I almost wet myself. The attached photo is lame-ass but still lends the truth to the sighting. Been a few Monarchs but folks are worried their numbers are down due to too many humans. One or the other. Also included a picture of Ann collecting butterflies.

I guess.

Sure we have squirrels, rabbits, and chipmunks which to some extent are the enemy but I have let them live even though I did find a dead rabbit stinking the place up behind the wood shed. No idea why he chose to check out but he was like real dead and is now doing a nice dirt nap in our garden.

The Wild Turkey moved into the little woods across the street right during Turkey season and used the neighborhood to drum up swag for his crop. I tried to call her in but she really didn't seem interested even though I sounded like a big studly Tom but with a marginal selection of tail feathers. She has stayed out of the garden.

We like the very black toads that were found under a pile of wood chips. It was early in the spring and they had to fatten up but I am sure they were getting ready to hold court under the street light behind us next to the church parking lot. I didn't know why they have the light unless it is to keep bad guys out of the church. Doesn't seem to work because people are still attending.

Immigration revisited---Missionary's Position

 Wow, here we go again. This immigration thing has turned into a spectacle with so many emotional strings attached it is almost impossible to sort it out. Clearly, doing any serious reading on the nature of migration of people and one can not help but realize that this is just the beginning of this issue. Since the invention of man and the many struggles that have gone with them, humans have migrated and, I suspect, frequently for the same reason----a shortage of resources.

Even in the days of early man it was very possible for a small group to deplete those resources that allowed them to get by. If the neighboring  areas were uninhabited, no problem. Just be nomadic and allow your previous area to regenerate and wander about living the life of a nomad. but if one group wandered into the territory of another group, there was a confrontation that may well have led to death. As we became more numerous the conflicts became bigger. Germany needed resources so they invaded everything they thought possible----and then some. Big war.

Virtually every conflict we have now has in some way a connection to resources. Classic case, Iraq. As Allen Greenspan said, "It is all about oil." So when we begin to see this massive migration into the USA, and in truth, all over Europe as well, it is obvious the people are moving because their own homeland is no longer livable. They want out and they want out bad, so they go to places they think are better. It is a simple migration.

The problem is the world is now full and we are close to being at a point where we can not produce enough resources to care for everybody. As a result, conflict starts, a conflict of immigration. Every rich and developed country has an illegal immigration problem. They are rioting in Sweden, France, England and very close to it in the USA.

We come from this long tradition of taking in your tired and your poor because we had space and jobs and resources but now it is becoming clear that the resources are running out, like oil, natural gas, copper, even water. They are running out everywhere, worse in the lands of the poor. It is simply stressed caused migration.

The tragedy of the issue is that no one has done any work to prevent this from happening. Many have seen it develop from "The Population Bomb" to "The Limits to Growth", to "Endgame". This is no secret, but we have done nothing and now we are confronted with this flood, and it is probably only the beginning. That wall down there is not just for what is happening to day, but for the future when countries to the south become total failed states.

How many can we absorb when 2/3 of the world's people are living under some sort of stressed condition right now----and would like to leave. We all cry for the individuals we hear about, the ones being sent back. How can we care for them when we have 15% unemployed, and underemployed. Are we a sovereign nation that can control our borders? What do we do now with the teaming, starving, ill-kept immigrants banging at our doors? I can say one thing and that is if they flood in here at the rate of the last 20 years which is 2-3 million a  year, we too will become over-populated  and under resourced. We too will be living as they do back in their home countries.

Do you think we can have a discussion on these larger issues, Over-Population, Resource Depletion (oil/all liquids very close to being in decline) global warming stressing ecosystems, and an economic system that is showing signs of being incapable of providing a fair possibility for all people. NO, WE CAN NOT. We will continue to fight to hold our borders from the migrating hoards.A tragedy on all accounts.

Hard-fighting Bass Caught from Belly Boat

 It was a brutal evening but food was needed for the table, so in a fit of self sustainability, I headed out to one of my secret spots to fish the illusive bass and blue gills. The struggle was immense as the wind blew in from the west at a pounding 1/2 mile per hour and the temperature hung dangerously at 72. While noting the folly of an elegant Flycatcher, I landed the first of many Large-mouthed Bass. He came to me in a fit of froth as I plied my trade as colorful fisherman. Sheer excitement hung in the air as a lone mosquito attempted to unload on me but with the strength of many men, the fish were landed and then held motionless before being released. The 12 inch Leviathan seemed massive there in the fading light.

My imagination ran unfettered from the pure glory of the evening. The wild wind died and the sun worked its way through the western trees as the fly line flew about. The fish, the bass and blue gills  swallowed the large white poppers in a Monica-like lust. Oh, to be on the pond alone throwing the line of a five weight and not being encumbered by another soul. The water was mine, the fish were mine. But admittedly, the thought of being sustainable never occurred to me as each fish was released, not so much that I didn't want to eat a few of them but due to being of non legal size. I didn't care. It was the adventure, the trip, journey not the destination.

,An Eagle passed over and I landed an impressive sun fish who, with its inflated ego, thought he could consume a one inch fly intended for a bass. What a night as the Sandhill Crane lifted off the west end and passed over only 100 feet up. It is too good here, to beautiful, so close, so easy. This land is my lover.

I arrived home close to dark and started a fire in the pit, felt the warmth and cooked a bratwurst to go with the salad of this year's garden greens. Such a comfortable warmth, so close to the ground away from the merry band. The wine of my own making was robust but not pretentious. It was the fire. The even glow of coals made of oak. Another warm day in paradise.

Revolution Watch---Shrimps and Prairie Chickens

Well, the old Sustainable Revolution is still going on, or trying to go on but it would seem the sustainable part is not doing too well today. Now, I say that, not so much for myself, even though I am affected, but for a couple of species I have always liked. It seems that the East Coast Shrimp is having a hard go of it, as are the various species of Grouse.

 Recently, the shrimp population has declined at unprecedented rates due to unknown factors. As a result, they have had to call off part of the fishing season. Of course, everybody is in a dither, most importantly the fisherman who net this delicacy in the winter months when lobsters are off limits. Oh, they still want to go out not realizing that over-fishing is probably one of the problems, or maybe warming seas, or pollution or maybe submarines that make odd noises (I made that up) but one can bet the decline has something to do with human activity. I might say, activity of the teaming masses for if our population was 150 million instead of 320 million it would only be half as bad---maybe we would have eaten twice as much. Who knows?

There are no mentions of the causes but sure as hell all the people clamoring for the this crustacean are the actual cause. Do we care? Not much I suspect, but might complain about the high price.One has to hope that holding back the catch will give the bottom feeders a chance to recover. Cod fish have not recovered well and that practice is now outlawed in hopes of finding a sustainable catch----many years from now, I suspect.

Then, we have the Prairie Chicken and the Sage Grouse. Wouldn't ya know they like the same habitat as the drilling rigs of the northern great plains. We have this habit of drilling the piss out of every hint of shale oil we can find, which by the way is not a sustainable practice as they only live a couple of years and cost some 8 million dollars. They will just die out and hopefully go away, but seeing they live in the same habitat as the birds, which could be sustained indefinitely, the birds may have to loose their protected status to make way for the pump jacks ( a dinosaur of sorts). What we get is a living bird that is forever sustainable, and living on the prairie for thousands of years being replaced by one of man's inventions, one that will last for only a couple of years.

Then again, we have to have the oil and gas to sustain us for a little while longer---until it runs out. Until it runs out. Then what? Something about this arrangement that doesn't make sense. Seems like in the long run we might be better off with the Prairie Chickens.

Cyclist Finds Strawberries in Friends Patch

It is not everyday that opportunity strikes, but for the cyclist with a brave heart and a willing sense of adventure events do happen that warm the heart. It seems that Nina put the word out that their patch of berries had been heavily harvested and still more berries showed up, all wanting to be put in the hands of a consumer.

That is where I came in. After a little inquisition, it was obvious we were not talking about  a couple of cup fulls but enough for me to haul in my pick up----that would be the bike pick up. It turns out our patch in the front yard, while it did not go belly up, left me underwhelmed. I don't know if it was just strawberry sloth or nutritional inadequacy. That big beautiful maple that provides shade is no boon to the patch. Then there is the issue of vermin in the form of chipmunks.

I did not pursue them (striped yard rats) this year because, initially, they did not seem real numerous but once the bushes got larger and more secretive the little bastards can skirt in and out with impunity. They may have been an issue I failed to see. Those half eaten berries laying about the lawn is usually a good indication.

Even now that the berries are gone the 30-06 might have to come out. Seeing the patch is in the front of the house right here in town I may have to go with the clandestine trap line, the one well disguised to prevent Merilyn from see it. She loves 'em because they are so cute but 850 of the scoundrels is too many for me.

Anyway, I fired up the bike unit and did the three measly miles to the Nina and Rex patch and found the answer to all my berry questions. There unconsumed, was teaming masses of the red jewels. I didn't even have to pick all of them as Nina apparently loves to pick---or maybe she witnessed my many joint maladies and did a pity picking. Interestingly, and historically important, I never threw one berry at my fellow picker---a first. After maybe ten pounds, the pickup was loaded and I motored back to the kitchen where Ann cleaned the suckers and I cooked up a winter store of jam. This is America.