Tuesday, March 25, 2008
The Beginning of the Beginning
Indicators of spring's arrival yesterday, despite temperatures that didn't quite break freezing: Rasping redwing blackbirds and trilling frogs (though alas, not spring peepers) heard near a mostly iced over swamp. They're as impatient for spring as I am. But today they'd best brace themselves for more snow.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Happy Easter
Long time no write...and no reading most of my favorite blogs. I won't bother with the excuses. Fishing season isn't that far off, and I do want to write about my exploits..which may be more local this year, owing to petrol prices.
Anyway, I just wanted to stop by to wish everyone a happy Easter--whatever significance the day has for you. I take a message from it that I think translates to any sort of faith, or lack of it: In whatever tombs you have entered, you are not obliged to remain. I've said it here before, but as I need to remind myself of it occasionally, it's worth airing again.
I was surprised today by how this feast can still summon, through the veil of skepticism without which I seldom venture into any experience, the rawest spiritual emotions. As I looked out my back window while fixing breakfast this morning, the sight of the rising sun made my throat clutch a little. Singing some hymns in church today brought on a few tears. I don't know if that's from "Christian Hope" or memories of Easters past. Either way, those feelings, or at least the shock of them, do stick with me for a while.
Again, happy Easter. Happy spring, for that matter.
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Hunter's Ed
A piece in today's New York Times reports that legislators in West Virginia passed a bill permitting public schools to offer hunter education classes when at least twenty students in a school express interest. This is one of a number of initiatives in states to boost declining hunter numbers, and probably the most ambitious I've heard of.
As the article details, not everyone is happy about such developments--some wonder whether, in an era of school shootings, schools ought to endorse the use of guns in any way. More generally, one might ask whether such classes have a place in modern schools that need to teach students to thrive in the global economy.
I think that question points to the best argument in favor of these classes.
Hunter's ed classes make as much sense---and the same kind of sense---as classes in art, music, and drama (all offerings I strongly support). As supporters of the hunter ed classes note, hunting was a traditionally a part of life in many communities, one that is being lost to developments in technology, land use, and new interests for kids. It's part of the culture that once defined rural (or formerly rural) places, and that long influenced daily life in, as well as the art and literature of, North America. It offers ways of learning about and reflecting on the world that academic inquiry doesn't, though it can support and enrich that inquiry. Hunting, or any traditional outdoor pursuit, may contribute to a well-rounded education as much as athletics or forensics.
Aldo Leopold once wrote that hunting had become a pursuit very comparable to opera, recreating aesthetically "a drama once inherent in daily life." Much like the art of the past, the outdoor sports help to tell us who we are and where we came from--we being the human race.
But pedagogical questions aside...would hunter's ed classes lead to any change in offerings at the school cafeteria?
As the article details, not everyone is happy about such developments--some wonder whether, in an era of school shootings, schools ought to endorse the use of guns in any way. More generally, one might ask whether such classes have a place in modern schools that need to teach students to thrive in the global economy.
I think that question points to the best argument in favor of these classes.
Hunter's ed classes make as much sense---and the same kind of sense---as classes in art, music, and drama (all offerings I strongly support). As supporters of the hunter ed classes note, hunting was a traditionally a part of life in many communities, one that is being lost to developments in technology, land use, and new interests for kids. It's part of the culture that once defined rural (or formerly rural) places, and that long influenced daily life in, as well as the art and literature of, North America. It offers ways of learning about and reflecting on the world that academic inquiry doesn't, though it can support and enrich that inquiry. Hunting, or any traditional outdoor pursuit, may contribute to a well-rounded education as much as athletics or forensics.
Aldo Leopold once wrote that hunting had become a pursuit very comparable to opera, recreating aesthetically "a drama once inherent in daily life." Much like the art of the past, the outdoor sports help to tell us who we are and where we came from--we being the human race.
But pedagogical questions aside...would hunter's ed classes lead to any change in offerings at the school cafeteria?
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Drought for Dollars
An argument often made in support of protecting waterways and wildlands is that these resources have economic value by virtue of drawing tourists who spend money on food and lodging, equipment, guides, etc. The argument is valid, but I often suspect it's self defeating in the long run. I've been thinking about this while following debate over a piece of water legislation in the Michigan Senate.
The senate is currently reviewing a bill that would ratify the multi-state Great Lakes Compact on water withdrawals from the lakes. We surely need an instrument like that--but not this one.
The measure would allow up to a 25% reduction in the average summer flow of rivers. It would allow commercial interests to withdraw up to two million gallons of groundwater daily without a permit. Hearings on applications for larger withdrawals would exclude comments of citizens affected by them. The bill would impose a uniform measure for determining the sustainability of water withdrawals across the state--withdrawals from the headwaters of a blue-ribbon trout stream would be viewed no differently than withdrawals from urban watersheds whose rivers contribute comparatively little economically or in terms of quality of life.
So whose idea was this? Sen. Patty Birkholz (R-Saugatuck) sponsored the legislation, though critics suspect she and other Republican supporters of the bill are acting on behalf of Nestle (which already operates one bottled water plant in west Michigan) and other businesses that would like to sell water outright or use it in the course of other projects--condo development, say, or more waterparks. A different version of this legislation, placing stricter limits on water withdrawals and accommodating citizen participation in the permitting process, passed the Democrat-controlled house, but republican senators claim protections in the house bill would hobble economic growth, especially in northern Michigan.
According to those opposing the senate bill, the fundamental point at issue is whether state government should manage groundwater resources as a public trust or as a commodity to sell off as it sees fit. That's exactly where the battle should be fought. I'm not an economist, but it's hard for me to believe the payoff from low-impact recreation will ever match that from intensive industrial or tourist development. Outdoor recreation tends to create low paying seasonal jobs with few benefits. At ground level, it's an enterprise dominated by small businesses who don't hire all that many people, and who don't have the cash to sway legislation in their favor. Legions of construction workers don't descend on a town to build a trout stream or a wilderness area and lay out cash for food, beer, and housing for months as they work. In short, the argument about the economic value of preserving lands and waters only works until someone proposes a use for those resources that pays better.
The house bill doesn't close the door on intensive development. But it offers stronger protections to Michigan's great fishing waters against any kind of development and, most importantly, acknowledges that in managing its resources, the state has greater obligations than wringing out of them every dollar possible.
That last notion has fallen out of fashion nationwide in the last few decades. I'm pleased to see some officeholders still fighting for it here. If you live in Michigan, add your voice to theirs. Call your state senator today and ask them to support the house version of the Great Lakes Compact bill. (For a quick overview of the legislation and concerns about it, click here.) I'll be dialing (for the second time since New Years') as soon as I click "Publish."
The senate is currently reviewing a bill that would ratify the multi-state Great Lakes Compact on water withdrawals from the lakes. We surely need an instrument like that--but not this one.
The measure would allow up to a 25% reduction in the average summer flow of rivers. It would allow commercial interests to withdraw up to two million gallons of groundwater daily without a permit. Hearings on applications for larger withdrawals would exclude comments of citizens affected by them. The bill would impose a uniform measure for determining the sustainability of water withdrawals across the state--withdrawals from the headwaters of a blue-ribbon trout stream would be viewed no differently than withdrawals from urban watersheds whose rivers contribute comparatively little economically or in terms of quality of life.
So whose idea was this? Sen. Patty Birkholz (R-Saugatuck) sponsored the legislation, though critics suspect she and other Republican supporters of the bill are acting on behalf of Nestle (which already operates one bottled water plant in west Michigan) and other businesses that would like to sell water outright or use it in the course of other projects--condo development, say, or more waterparks. A different version of this legislation, placing stricter limits on water withdrawals and accommodating citizen participation in the permitting process, passed the Democrat-controlled house, but republican senators claim protections in the house bill would hobble economic growth, especially in northern Michigan.
According to those opposing the senate bill, the fundamental point at issue is whether state government should manage groundwater resources as a public trust or as a commodity to sell off as it sees fit. That's exactly where the battle should be fought. I'm not an economist, but it's hard for me to believe the payoff from low-impact recreation will ever match that from intensive industrial or tourist development. Outdoor recreation tends to create low paying seasonal jobs with few benefits. At ground level, it's an enterprise dominated by small businesses who don't hire all that many people, and who don't have the cash to sway legislation in their favor. Legions of construction workers don't descend on a town to build a trout stream or a wilderness area and lay out cash for food, beer, and housing for months as they work. In short, the argument about the economic value of preserving lands and waters only works until someone proposes a use for those resources that pays better.
The house bill doesn't close the door on intensive development. But it offers stronger protections to Michigan's great fishing waters against any kind of development and, most importantly, acknowledges that in managing its resources, the state has greater obligations than wringing out of them every dollar possible.
That last notion has fallen out of fashion nationwide in the last few decades. I'm pleased to see some officeholders still fighting for it here. If you live in Michigan, add your voice to theirs. Call your state senator today and ask them to support the house version of the Great Lakes Compact bill. (For a quick overview of the legislation and concerns about it, click here.) I'll be dialing (for the second time since New Years') as soon as I click "Publish."
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Spring Break(?); Starving Cat Chronicles #6
The trip last weekend was very good, as you might have gathered from the Twitters. The rain stayed away until after we left, giving us a nice last ski on Sunday morning. I didn't take any pics. The trails (to be precise, the Corsair trail system near Tawas, MI) ran through unbroken pine woods, mostly red pine plantations, so not much of scenic interest presented itself. You could say that the straight rows of trees made the place something of an artificial environment, and you'd be right--but what landscape isn't the product of some artifice these days? The cold air, the twilight on snow, the gurgling of a small creek made this a far cry from running on a track.
I'm in the middle of my university's spring break, though it's not at all a vacation. I'm catching up on work I let go earlier. I was hoping to do my taxes too, but that isn't looking likely.
But a lack of spare time is the least of my sorrows this week. My cat, Pavlov, all but stopped eating this Monday, and he was almost skeletal to begin with. That, plus the foulness of his breath, suggests his failing kidneys may be all but exhausted. I'm taking him to the vet this morning, and I know he'll tell me it's time to put him to sleep. While I've known this day was coming for a while, I am still not ready for it. Kristine and I got Pavlov just after we were married, so as long as we've lived together he's been part of the household.
I will confess I've found caring for him increasingly difficult of late. Until Monday, he needed to eat constantly, he had become quite casual about his bathroom habits, and his runny poops tended to stick to his fur, making him unwelcome on our laps despite his insistence on climbing on them. Frankly, he's been aggravating. But a few more weeks of his problems would be easier to take than putting him down.
There is the question of how much he's been suffering (he's actually had many more good hours than bad ones), and whether sparing our emotions a bit longer merits prolonging his life in its pitiful state. I'm hoping the vet can give an accurate assessment of where he stands, and possibly take some measures that will give him some more quality time with us--peritoneal dialysis, perhaps, and another round of antibiotics for his intestinal problems.
This sounds foolishly hopeful. But I'm afraid that's about as far as I can go emotionally at the moment.
Enough self pity. Hope you regulars are doing OK, and I hope this outburst of pathos doesn't scare off anyone who's newly happened by.
STARVING CAT UPDATE:
The vet gave didn't seem overly concerned. He gave Pavlov another peritoneal dialysis treatment (basically shooting lots of water into his abdomen) and said he should be fine for a bit. Plus, Pavlov has recovered some of his appetite today.
I'm in the middle of my university's spring break, though it's not at all a vacation. I'm catching up on work I let go earlier. I was hoping to do my taxes too, but that isn't looking likely.
But a lack of spare time is the least of my sorrows this week. My cat, Pavlov, all but stopped eating this Monday, and he was almost skeletal to begin with. That, plus the foulness of his breath, suggests his failing kidneys may be all but exhausted. I'm taking him to the vet this morning, and I know he'll tell me it's time to put him to sleep. While I've known this day was coming for a while, I am still not ready for it. Kristine and I got Pavlov just after we were married, so as long as we've lived together he's been part of the household.
I will confess I've found caring for him increasingly difficult of late. Until Monday, he needed to eat constantly, he had become quite casual about his bathroom habits, and his runny poops tended to stick to his fur, making him unwelcome on our laps despite his insistence on climbing on them. Frankly, he's been aggravating. But a few more weeks of his problems would be easier to take than putting him down.
There is the question of how much he's been suffering (he's actually had many more good hours than bad ones), and whether sparing our emotions a bit longer merits prolonging his life in its pitiful state. I'm hoping the vet can give an accurate assessment of where he stands, and possibly take some measures that will give him some more quality time with us--peritoneal dialysis, perhaps, and another round of antibiotics for his intestinal problems.
This sounds foolishly hopeful. But I'm afraid that's about as far as I can go emotionally at the moment.
Enough self pity. Hope you regulars are doing OK, and I hope this outburst of pathos doesn't scare off anyone who's newly happened by.
STARVING CAT UPDATE:
The vet gave didn't seem overly concerned. He gave Pavlov another peritoneal dialysis treatment (basically shooting lots of water into his abdomen) and said he should be fine for a bit. Plus, Pavlov has recovered some of his appetite today.
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