RESOURCE PROTECTION
Resource protection is the number one job of any National Park staff member.
Now I realize that your superintendent has told you that "The preservation of human life is the number one priority of the National Park Service" Your superintendent is, as usual, misinformed.
As you may have noticed, "The preservation of human life" is low to non-existent on God's check list of Things to Do. He did not even make an exception for His own Son ( Despite JC's understandable attempt to pull rank ). None of us are getting out of here alive.
Granted, the presence of large numbers of taxpayers and staff in various stages of rigor mortis would present a public relations problem, though nothing that Fran Mainella couldn't handle ("Is it possible to out source Death?"), the fact remains that the prevention of death is not the reason for the establishment of any of our parks.
The parks were established to preserve and protect a specific group of natural wonders therein, some living, as in the case of bison or redwood ecosystems; some inanimate as in the case of petrified wood or Yosemite waterfalls. In the case of cultural parks, historic objects or even ideas such as freedom were to be preserved as at Independence Hall NHP.
Indeed, while most park brochures are required to contain some sort of safety message, few seem to contain an italicized short version of the Congressional Mandate as to why the area is important and what is being protected (25 words or less will do). That is, why are we providing manpower and money to protect this stuff? The answer of course is that the "stuff" is part of the original fabric of the nation and is getting rarer by the day. Some people tend to want rare stuff and are ethically flexible as to how they acquire it. National Parks are storehouses of such goods: ergo, Resource Crime.
One example of resource crime is the theft of Galax. Never heard of Galax? Unfortunately, a lot of ecological bad guys have Galax is an Appalachian perennial with bright, shiny leaves that likes shady old growth deciduous forests. It is a pretty plant, much a part of the forest floor cover.
Last July, park rangers at Blue Ridge Parkway caught Jesus Grimaldo, an undocumented alien, with 7500 Galax. Stems. Now perhaps poor Jesus had a kidney ailment (Native Americans used Galax to treat urinary disorders) and needed a little medication? No, that did not seem to be the motive.
Your kindly editor looked up a commercial source for Galax on the magical internet. You see, Galax farming is in its infancy and the "nursery" diplomatically stated that its Galax came from the "North Carolina Mountains". The price quoted for Galax was $1.00 pr stem. You are beginning to get the picture. Jesus was on to something. He had 7500 of these stems. Galax is much prized by florists and landscapers, so much so that they often do not ask too many questions as to the source.
But is this not a wholesome, outdoor vocation for an energetic immigrant like Jesus? Well, no. Aside from being illegal as it's in a park area, the stripping of Galax changes the park ecology. More Galax doesn't automatically grow back. (It's a perennial, remember!) In fact the disturbed area is often colonized by exotic weeds from Europe and Northeast Asia, and soon the environment would not be recognized by Daniel Boone or his sometimes foe, Chief Cornstalk. The ecological fabric of America begins to unravel.
The same is true of the illegal "harvesting" of ginseng, the celebrated "man-root" found in the Appalachian national parks and much prized for "medicinal purposes" by aging Asian gentlemen. Fortunately, thanks to the efforts of Bob "I want to talk about erectile dysfunction!" Dole, the merits of Viagra or its equivalent have spread even to the nether reaches of China, as something that, unlike ginseng, actually works. This has caused somewhat of a drop in demand, but parks like Shenandoah, Blue Ridge and Great Smoky are still being ginseng poached.
Obviously, advances in science in the case of a substitute for ginseng, and advances in agriculture as in the production of commercial Galax as a cash crop on private lands in Appalachia, will be the final solution. However, until that time, determined vigilance (and funding) on the part of protective rangers will be required .
In the Pacific Northwest parks, there is the problem of the commercial harvesting of mushrooms in national parks, a food stock for a number park animals and important in their own right. The fact that many of these mushrooms do particularly well after a forest fire could lead some perverted Thoreaus to seek to outfit themselves with a subsistence lifestyle by setting forest fires, working on the resulting fire, and harvesting the resulting mushrooms (as well as planting yet another cash crop, marijuana). The prevention of this cycle requires the presence of astute and creative protection personnel.
Yellowstone National Park being the first park, was the first to need protection. It still does. The protection needs are many and myriad, usually political in root, ranging from well connected big game outfitters "salting" on the south boundary to equally well connected ranchers adjoining the park, who seek to manage the park bison herd on public land to prevent what may be an imaginary disease threat.
Then there is of course the protection "biggie", that your average GS-5, 7, 9, protection ranger can't directly deal with (except to keep PEER and other environmental groups informed through the judicious leak). This is park air pollution, which makes a joke out of the scores of "scenic viewpoints",in Shenandoah, Blue Ridge Parkway, and Great Smoky, in which bemused taxpayers read a sign telling them of what they would be seeing if there wasn't a gray white gas cloud enveloping them. This is no longer an "Eastern" problem. You can no longer "See into tomorrow" at Big Bend National Park in Texas; you will be lucky to see into the next hour of your hike.
Reducing pollution requires specialized skills, chief among them career survival skills, as well connected polluters find it far, far cheaper to eliminate a troublesome bureaucrat than to eliminate air pollution. For a discussion of such skills, you might check with Bill Wade, who maintained a plucky defense of Shenandoah until his retirement and beyond.
On the cultural preservation front, there is the theft of archeological or historical treasures, or as Tony Hillerman would put it, The Theft of Time. In one case, the theft of time was quite literal in which John Muir's pocket watch from John Muir National Historical Site. The recovery of such items requires "cold case" diligence and special artifact and museology experience on the part of the protection ranger, and again adequate support and funding. (Can't say that too many times neighbors.)
Now if you believe that resource protection is the most, or one of the most, important duties in the NPS, I suspect that you are correct. If you believe that resource protection has to be some depressing, long faced tragedy of environmental and cultural loss, I hope you are wrong. We do have our little victories -- as well as occasional moments of low comedy.
I recall fondly my stint of resource protection at Petrified Forest National Park. The park seemed dedicated to an endless contest of wills between we rangers and certain elements of the public as to whether the petrified wood would remain in the park or in the pockets of some of the visitors.
The erring taxpayer would try to outwit us, but we had the advantage of experience. They would try to think like a ranger, but we had the advantage of the thoughts of a 1,000 previous miscreants. There is a finite number of places you can conceal an object on a person or a vehicle and we in time knew them all.
For example, there was the Dirty Diaper Pail Ploy. The fastidious bureaucrats wouldn't poke in there, now would they, Maude? Of course we would! First place we looked, with a special tool we had invented just for that purpose! There were the usual ploys such as the air filter or spare tire, but my favorite for sheer low humor, was The Ladies' Legs Ploy.
The Miscreants had picked up a hefty chunk of petrified wood at Crystal Forest and failed to put it back on the ground. (This fact was reported by radio from a ranger in a spy hole atop one of the nearby butte, giving the ranger at exit station probable cause to search the vehicle. ). Meanwhile the husband (It was almost always the husband's idea) came up with what he thought was an original idea. ("If we hide the petrified wood between your legs, under your skirt, the rangers would never dare look there, now would they?")
The car would arrive at the exit station and the malefactors would smile beatifically at the ranger when he asked them if they had any petrified wood in the car. (To keep things fair, we were required to ask them three times during our conversation if they had any petrified wood in the car in the fond hope that Sunday school lessons would finally kick in.) If they 'fessed up even at the magic third time, they were let off with a written warning. If however, they persisted in sin and thought they could outwit us, the rangers' demeanor changed.
"Then" we would intone "May we take a quick look through your car?" (Now, neighbors, this is one of the strangest bits of miscreant psychology that still puzzles veteran law enforcement types is that even if the person has 50 kilos of cocaine and a spare dead body in the trunk, he/she will heartily smile and say "Sure! Go right ahead!")
The ranger would then give the parties the bad news. "Regulations require that you both step away from the car while I do the search. Just take a minute!" (professional grin) At that moment, most of the wives or girlfriends would give it up, often bursting into tears of embarrassment.
But every so often you would encounter a lady that was a true competitor, that would not give up easily.
Steeling herself, she would open the car door and swing both legs out and hoist herself erect.
"Please move away from the car, Ma'am" I would intone. "Over by the fence will be just fine."
Only 18 feet, but it must have seemed like the infinity of outer space to the lady.
Now I don't know if you've practiced walking naturally with a cold 15 pound rock clutched between knees or thighs, but it could be the next Olympic event. It ain't easy.
The game lady would began to lurch Frankenstein-like toward the haven of the fence line, when inevitably there would be a satisfying crash of falling rock on the tarmac. Being professional, I restrained both laughter and witty comments and picked up the rock for weighing (The fine was based on the weight of the petrified wood, plus we needed the information for bureaucratic type protection statistics) As near as I can recall, the record on my shift for the Petrified Wood Thigh Haul Attempt was 22.8 pounds.
So you see that even though Resource Protection is underfunded, understaffed and frustrating, it has its moments of humor.
A MODEST PROPOSAL FOR THE RELIEF OF THE NATIONAL PARKS
Norella ! Norella! NORELLA! How easily that lovely name come tripping off the tongue! It is of course a composite of the last names of the two charming ladies that have done so much to change federal land management as we know it!
As the two Interior twins are virtually identical, and, indeed, it is difficult to tell where one leaves off and the other begins, Thunderbear has decided to honor them in perpetuity not by naming a star, but rather by creating a name, Norella. We sincerely hope that Norella will be the name of your next girl child or that you will lean heavily on your children to name your next female grandchild Norella.
Indeed, as the two ladies appear to be identical, when it comes to correspondence, one can save time and postage by merging them into Norella. One can be sure that any idea or suggestion you have will be shared by the other half of Norella.
A case in point would be the famous "Campfire" blue envelopes proposed by the former secretary of the Interior Bruce Babbitt. Babbitt believed that some of the best ideas in America arose from discussions around a campfire, so he decided to create a symbolic campfire in the Department of Interior, by suggesting that if a Department of Interior Employment had an idea, he/she should write it down and put it in a blue envelope marked "CAMPFIRE". According to Bruce, these "campfire" envelopes would be opened by himself alone and a reply would be guaranteed. The authors of the best suggestions would be invited to an actual campfire in Babbitts office (luckily, there is a fireplace) for further discussion. It was an interesting idea and I continued to badger Bruce with blue envelopes even after he retired.
It is now time to resurrect this fine idea. Instead of "CAMPFIRE", simply write "NORELLA" on the blue envelope containing your suggestion, put the blue envelope in a brown manilla (no relation) envelope and address it to the Department of Interior, 1849 C St. NW Washington DC. We are confident you will get a response.
Now has your editor offered a "Norella" suggestion? Of course!
You will recall that there may be a "Service Level Adjustment" (Don't you dare call it a cut!) In the amount and quality of the amenities when you visit a national park this summer. Now neighbors, one of the leading expenses in a park is that of "maintenance". The term "maintenance" is a Park Service euphemism for the care and cleaning of the public toilets in the park. If you got rid of the toilets, the budget would be in the black! However, simply getting rid of the toilets is not the solution. We must get to the source of the problem, the visitor himself.
If we can find way to "plug up" the park patron for the duration of his/her average one and a half day stay in the park, we can balance the budget! There will be no need for toilets!
The solution is laughably simple! Upon entering the park, the patron would be given a free family sized bottle of IMODIUM or its generic equivalent. (IMODIUM is a brand name for one of several preparations of the anti- diarrheal drug Loeradmide ) IMODIUM or one of its competitors is suggested for use by unlucky tourists who visit "developing" nations and come down with "Montezuma's Revenge", "Delhi Belly", the Tajikistan Trots" or whatever.
The stuff really works and will be just as effective in remotest Yellowstone s in darkest Uzbekistan!
Now the lads and lassies who make and sell IMODIUM have understandably developed a rather broad, earthy sense of humor. (I recommend that you visit their website!) The IMODIUM company motto is "Visit the country, not the country's restrooms!" I suggest that we can modify this motto to "Visit the national parks, not the comfort stations!"
"Ah!" You say, sternly "Who is going to pay for this IMODIUM boondoggle?"
You will be relieved and heartened to know that the distribution of IMODIUM need not be funded by the taxpayers or the hard pressed NPS.
You will remember that Norella and her cohorts goes on rather tiresomely about the natural partnership between the parks and the business community. Norrella is quite correct! The Bush Administration has been very, very good to the Pharmaceutical industry! Now is the time for that industry to step up to the plate and save the budgets of America's parks by "housebreaking" the tourists! (Dare we call it "park breaking?") with donated IMODIUM.
By asking the park visitors to voluntarily stop defecating in the parks through the use of donated IMODIUM or similar brands, we can forge a partnership between industry, the Administration, and the Park visitor that will eliminate (no pun intended) the budget crunch! So write Norella today! As a revamped, redirected Smokey Bear would say "DON'T FLUSH IT! PLUG IT!"
LETTER FROM A READER
Now neighbors, one of the hazards of the writing game is that one or more of your female readers will fall in love with you; sending you love poems and moony-eyed missives vowing eternal love, and saying that her life will not be complete without you.
This does not seem to be true in the case of your kindly editor.
I am submitting the following letter from a reader:
(No salutation)
"I have been reading some of your trash and I have to tell you that you are one sick, radical "son of a bitch" People like you are the reason "environmentalism" leaves such a toxic taste in one's mouth. Have you ever thought of going on medication?"
(No words of farewell from the author, Ms Nancy McHarg)
Well gee!
What had I done to elicit the wrath of Ms McHarg? Indeed, who is Nancy McHarg?
When in doubt, ask the Internet.
So I summoned up the genie of GOOGLE and typed in "Nancy McHarg."
It seems that there was a Nancy McHarg who is a noted Scottish impressionist painter.
I racked my brain. Had THUNDERBEAR said anything derogatory about Scottish impressionist painting? Had I said anything derogatory about Scotland? Complained about the rain or the midges? Or even the beer? No, nothing.
Perhaps there was more than one Nancy McHarg, though it is not a common name.
I continued down the list of Nancy McHargs.
Bingo! There was a Nancy McHarg who lives in Ranier, Minnesota and had been involved in a protest against the ban of "personal water craft" (Jet skis) in portions of Voyaguers National Park in Minnesota.
After reading up on Ms McHarg and her efforts, I returned to my e-mail.
Sure enough, there was yet another note from Nancy McHarg, elaborating a bit on what was irritating her.
(No salutation)Just a little update on the Freedom Brigade you wrote about in 1999, regarding water jurisdiction in Voyaguers National Park. It just happens that the judge in that case decided that he was going to legislate, not interpret the case, because as you well know, the guy is a greenie with an agenda, one that has nothing to do with interpreting the law. It just so happens that he got caught trifling with the transcript of the case after making some inappropriate, damaging statements during the hearing (what a joke and a travesty of the American legal system) and then had to "fix" the problem. He and his transcriptionist never could produce the original copy for review, nor did the final transcript show up in the clerk of courts office until we threatened him with a Senate Hearing. He promptly "retired" and then had the transcriptionist send the altered transcript to the clerk's office. His arrogance got him in the end. We may have lost the case, but justice was served. It seems that you people can't accomplish anything without being underhanded. We will continue battling radicals like you who believe that the Northern Hemisphere should revert back to prehistoric times and that people are less important than rocks and bugs. You call so many others greed heads -- I'd like to know what your lifestyle is. Judging by all the writing you do, I'll bet you are quite wealthy, don't work, live a very nice lifestyle, and don't practice what you preach. Maybe I'm way off the mark, but I am curious. Those with your ideology seem to fit the same mold.
(Signed)
The Greed head who organized the Freedom Brigade
Well now, neighbors, that was an interesting outburst!
First a little history to bring you up to speed on this remarkable case. The "Personal Water Craft" as the "Industry" rather pompously insists on calling these malignant toys, is the evil summer twin of the snowmobile that plagues Yellowstone National Park in the winter. They are commonly referred to as "Jet skis" They fill the air with their maddening whine and, in season, fill the pages of the NPS MORNING REPORT with deaths and injuries. There is a surreal quality to these PWC incident reports, as if God was deliberately subtracting the participants from the gene pool. The idea of an "accident" is almost turned upside down as one reads how Jim Bob agreed to race Billy Joe to a rock in the middle of the reservoir for a case of "Bud." Sometimes it's a dead heat.
What is worse is when they involve innocent bystanders. Some of these PWC's can exceed the speed of a World War II naval torpedo, and act like one when they hit grampa's bass boat.
Like the snowmobile, there is something in the noise and vibration of the PWC that triggers the anal aperture gene in the rider. There seems to be an almost irresistible impulse to inspect paddle or sail propelled craft in ever decreasing circles (particularly those craft inhabited by pretty woman with or without boyfriends). Needless to say, this has caused problems.
With these folks in mind, Voyaguers National park up in Northern Minnesota decided to ban PWC's
Now the NPS has blown hot and cold on the subject of PWC's particularly in the case of man made reservoirs. However, Voyaguers National Park has jurisdiction over a portion of Rainy Lake, a God-made natural treasure that has been around since the last ice age. The enabling legislation that established the park defined the park mission as "To preserve for the inspiration and enjoyment of present and future generations, the outstanding scenery, geological condition and waterway system which constituted a part of the historic route of the Voyaguers who contributed significantly to the opening of the Northwestern United States."
Voyaguers Park management didn't see any particular need for PWC's to fulfill the above mission and so forbade these waterborne banshees.
Ms McHarg and her friends thought differently and decided to challenge the park regulation with an act of civil disobedience. That is, as "The Greed head who organized the Freedom Brigade" (Her statement, not mine!) She and her friends decided to stage a PWC ride through the park on July 3, 1999.
The NPS was informed of the plan and made plans of its own. The Chief Ranger, James Hummel, had previously been stationed in one of the Alaskan parks. There he had helped perfect what might be termed the "Alaskan Approach" to confrontation by special interest groups who wish some publicity. Rather than physical confrontation, other methods are used. In this case, when the "Freedom Brigade" roared into the park astride their PWC's, the rangers pistols, pepper spray, batons, and handcuffs remained firmly in their holsters, providing very dull TV coverage. However, the rangers' video cameras were very, very busy, recording everyone, including PWC registration numbers. Citations were issued and mailed to the defendants, who pled guilty and were fined $100 each.
Contrary to what Ms McHarg believes, the Federal Magistrate Randall Burg was not forced to "retire." The Magistrate's job is largely volunteer with expenses and Mr. Burg found that it took time from his "day" job of Assistant County Attorney for nearby Beltrami County, a position that he happily occupies as of this writing.
Does Judge Burg hate her? Of course not! In addition to being judicially amused by her comments, Judge Burg is genuinely puzzled by the failure of Ms McHarg and the "Freedom Brigade" to take their case to a higher court. What was the point, after all?
Does Chief Ranger Hummel hate her? Of course not! Ranger Hummel is a professional, administering the law fairly and impartially with the minimum amount of physical force required.
Do I hate her? Of course not! (Though I mist admit she has blown my cover! All these years I had everyone convinced I was a low level federal bureaucrat, but Nancy fossicked out the truth! That in reality, I am an eccentric environmental elitist billionaire, using my wealth to suppress Greedheads and other Right Thinking Americans!) Can I ever forgive her? Of course, but it is going to take some hard slogging on my part to get her to like me!
So is Nancy McHarg wicked and evil? Of course not! (A bit excitable perhaps, but not a bad lady) Actually while I disagree with Ms McHarg in her choice of toys, I do agree with her right to challenge authority. You and I may have more in common with Nancy McHarg than you would think.
Why?
Because, neighbors, if this "Fee Demo" thing keeps clicking along in the National Forest and BLM lands, you and I and sundry friends will have no choice to pull a "Nancy McHarg" and hike into the national forest or park a car on the shoulder of a BLM road without the requisite "Fee Demo" tag.
The stakes will be high for both sides as this is the first salvo in the plan to privatize all public land. Because the stakes are so high, the people that support this "Fee Demo" want real punishment for any "civil disobedience." There will be no $100 symbolic slap on the wrist as McHarg received.
No indeed! The "Fee Demo" folks want a draconian six months in jail and a $2,000 fine (As a clever touch to add to your misery, your vehicle could be towed with additional charges. If it is a rental car, there might be "loss of use" charges if it is impounded.)
Civil Disobedience is an old and interesting concept. Henry David Thoreau did it. Gandhi did it Martin Luther King did it and you and I may have to do it, if Bush and his Privatization friends are not defeated in the coming election.
A WALK IN THE PARK
One nice thing about living next to a 3200 acre regional park is that you can take a house guest for a walk in the park and you both can learn new things and gain new insights.
Such was the case when one of Joan's Indian colleagues showed up and we introduced him to Old Never Fail, a walk in the park.
The Nairn Street entrance to Wheaton Regional Park takes you through a jaw dropping cathedral grove of Tulip trees. The Tulip Tree or Yellow Poplar, as the lumber folks like to call it, is not related to tulips or poplars. Actually, it is the world's largest member of the magnolia family and is the biggest, tallest native broadleaf tree in America.
The Tulip tree is the state tree of Indiana, Tennessee, and North Carolina, and is in contention with the California Redwood to become the U. S. National Tree. It is true that, size wise, the Redwoods wins, but the Tulip Tree gives it the old Eastern try with historical specimens, now deceased, well over 200 feet tall and 12 feet in diameter. Like the Redwood, the Tulip Tree is almost exclusively North American (Almost, but not quite, both trees have shirt tail relatives in China)
The wood is easily worked, clear, takes paint better than any other American lumber tree and is surprisingly strong for a fast growing species (Daniel Boone said it was the best tree for a dug out canoe should you ever require one) Although the Tulip tree is one of America's premier lumber trees, what really doomed it was that it was an indicator of moist, rich, well drained "can't lose! "farming soil. Now that farming is disappearing, the Tulip tree is coming back.
Wheaton Regional Park has one of the best Tulip Tree stands in the DC area. For perhaps the most spectacular stand, you should go to "Montpelier" the Virginia home of James Madison, our fourth president and one of our first forest conservationists.
As for the "tulips" of Tulip trees, yes, the tree really does have a large whitish-yellow tulip like flower in the spring of the year. Interesting story, there! It seems that tulip tree flowers are insect rather than wind pollinated. For reasons that God has yet to reveal to me, the flowers occur on only the top most branches, which works just find until the tree is sixty feet tall, which is beyond the cruising altitude of most bees. This has led to a reproductive problem for America's most famous and revered Tulip Tree -- the one planted at Mount Vernon by George Washington.
The Ladies of Mount Vernon, who run the place, make a fair amount of money by selling historic seedlings. If they could plant and grow seeds from Georg's Tulip Tree, it would be helpful. As publicity is also helpful, they would find a good sport celebrity without a fear of heights who was willing to ride a bucket crane up to the flowers and help dust the blossoms with pollen. The most famous recent celebrity to do this was none other than Martha Stewart, who, if she schedules her time in a federal institution correctly, should be out in time to do it again this spring.
Sanjay, our Indian guest, was most impressed with our walk down the center "aisle" of this Green Cathedral of magnificent trees. "It is truly glorious, this Nature of yours" he said, softly.
"Unfortunately, it doesn't stay this glorious. In American Nature, there is always a problem around the corner." I responded.
Sure enough, there was trouble around the bend. The trail led pass surreal mounds and pinnacles of eerie, contorted vegetation, unfortunately quite common in the South.
"What is that strange mysterious plant?" asked Sanjay.
"That's an invasive species called Kudzu." I responded "Those mounds and pinnacles are actually trees that have been engulfed and killed by Kudzu."
"What is meant by "Invasive Species" inquired Sanjay in his lilting Indian English
"Invasive species are the Greed head Republicans of the plant world." I responded informatively. "Invasive species completely take over ecosystems, selfishly denying water, sunshine and nutrients to every plant that is not Kudzu. Think of George W. Bush as a human form of Kudzu."
"But how do they become invasive?" asked Sanjay.
"By making promises." I responded "We were promised that Kudzu was a soft, gentle vine that would solve all our problems. We were told it could stop erosion (this was true) We were told it made good livestock food (true) and that humans could eat it in a salad (If you really wanted to) and that its root consisted of edible starch (true) and that it grew very fast (This was really, REALLY true!) And that it was very hardy, resistant and, (heh! heh! heh!) able to overcome most anything (This was SUPER REALLY TRUE!) By the time we found out about the last two traits of Kudzu, it was too late. Sort of like George Dubya promising Compassionate Conservatism!
"But do not all species flow equally from the brow of Brahma; are not all species equal? How can you have an invasive species as you call it?" (Sanjay is some kind of Hindu and cannot quite grasp the concept of good species and bad species as in Bullmoose Republican and Greed head Republican, so I had to simplify it for him.)
"Look Sanjay, you are right in that there are no inherently evil plants and indeed when each plant is in its own ecological niche, everything and everyone does well. However, some species are opportunists and when given a disturbed environment such as torn up ground, or no natural enemies, they will proceed to take over and are very, very difficult to eradicate. You see in an Eastern Woodland Brome such as Wheaton Regional Park, or, for that matter, Shenandoah National Park, as many as 23% of the plant species are exotic, that is, non native species."
"I see." said Sanjay in the uncertain tone of one who didn't.
"Actually, Sanjay, you have provided me with an insight that will benefit the interpretation of our National Parks!"
"I am very glad to hear that!" Sanjay replied in the chipper accent of the Indian scholar, "Because, as is well known, your national parks are the best idea you ever had, according to Lord Brice!"
"We think so, too, Sanjay! However, funding the National Parks has for some strange reason proved an almost insurmountable obstacle for the Bush administration. It has been necessary to cut back on what we call interpretation and what you call Nature education. This means that there are fewer naturalist led hikes. This means that more and more campground amphitheaters are darkened; that the tax payers does not learn about his or her park."
"That is not good." agreed Sanjay "What is the solution?" (Indian professionals always believe there is some kind of solution lying around the backyard that just needs to be uncovered!).
"There needs to be an Activist Volunteer Service (AVS) that will go into the parks, lead nature walks, give campfire programs, and more importantly call a spade a spade."
"Americans cannot identify shovels?" asked Sanjay incredulously (speakers of a second language often take the cliches literally.)
"Figure of speech, Sanjay! What we need are volunteers who have no fear of job loss, bad performance reports, or punitive reassignments, who are prepared to tell the environmental and park situation the way it is and are equally prepared to go head to head in arguments with the inevitable Greed head fanatic! You have given me an idea for an AVS slide show!"
"I have?" said Sanjay, amazed at his contribution.
"Yes! I will put together a slide show of noxious invasive weeds that afflict the various national park and pair them with photographs of the Bush cabinets members and staffers that most resemble the characteristics of the invasive species. For example, if Bush resembles Kudzu, then Fran Mainella has the characteristic of Cheat Grass and Gale Norton that of Poison Vetch. We can even put together a card game for Junior Rangers, mixing and matching Greed head Republicans with their corresponding noxious weed, insect, or animal! The educational potential is enormous! Wait till I propose this at the next superintendent's meeting! I should be in line for a retroactive Freeman Tilden Award!"
"What's that? "Inquired Sanjay
"Bureaucratic Nobel prize!" I informed him (Every Indian intellectual yearns for the Nobel prize, Sanjay was clearly impressed.)
"You feel your chances are favorable?"
"Lead pipe cinch, particularly if Kerry wins!" I said breezily.
"Kerry has lead pipes?" Sanjay asked confusedly.
"Only in public speaking!" I said enigmatically.
"What a beautiful lake!" exclaimed Sanjay.
He was right. We had reached Pine Lake, the liquid jewel of Wheaton Regional Park .
"Can you swim in it?"
"Not allowed. You can look at it or fish in it at certain times."
"Certain times "
Yup! In the spring of year, when the water is still cold. The county dumps a truck load of hatchery trout into the lake so that people can take their kids fishing for a few weeks with some chance of success "
"A few weeks? Isn't it a sustainable fishery?"
"Nope! Exotics are at work here too! Trout don't normally live in the lake. By the time July comes around, those trout that haven't been caught die when the water gets too warm. That's probably a good idea. If the trout stay alive for more than two months, chances are they would accumulate enough mercury from poorly regulated coal fired power plants. Most freshwater fish in the Eastern USA is so contaminated by mercury by the time they're of legal size, eating them would provide your kids with the I .Q. of a toadstool."
"On the other hand, there's the Northern Snakehead. A few weeks ago, a fellow thought he had an unusually large trout, one that was fighting much harder than your average hatchery trout. Up came a big fish, full of teeth and attitude. It was a Northern Snakehead. 'Northern' is somewhat relative as the fish hails from Southeast Asia. Montgomery county has a sizable Vietnamese population and I guess some of them are homesick for the kind of fish they had back home. So somebody decided to see how well they would do in a new home and apparently planted some, just like homesick Europeans thought North America could really use some carp. Anyways, the Fish & Game people drained Pine Lake several weeks ago and found a few more Snakeheads. Maybe they've stopped them, maybe they haven't. It's a remarkably tenacious fish, probably should be the symbol of Viet Nam for its ability to endure. It has some sort of rudimentary lungs and can exist outside of water for quite some time and 'walk' on its pelvic fins to some other body of water. Much of the drainage around here leads into the Potomac. This is unfortunate as the Potomac is one of the finest Bass fisheries in the U. S. And the Northern Snakehead is a pure predator, praying exclusively on other fish, by definition, the bass fishery would be endangered by this exotic."
"It is rare to have a major fishery in a metropolitan area, and the Potomac story is one of redemption and weird good luck. First there was an effort, largely successful, to clean up 'America's Sewer' as the Potomac was called when I was a draftee stationed in the DC area decades ago and warned if, for some reason we fell in the Potomac, we were to report immediately to hospital. As for the weird good luck, some bored tropical fish owner decided to empty his aquarium into the Potomac. The exotic fish did not survive, but the exotic hydrilla, a common aquarium plant did survive and, thrived and multiplied in biblical profusion."
"Now in 999 out of a 1,000 of these exotic species stories, there is unmitigated disaster. This time the results were benign, even rather favorable, if you happen to be a bass or a bass fisherman. The hydrilla produced oxygen, absorbed some pollutants and, above all, provided cover and habitat for the bass fingerlings. The sturdy hydrilla provided an exotic come back for Potman fishing."
Sanjay and I continued past the low dam that had created Pine Lake and arrived at a gate in a high fence.
"Are we leaving the park?" He inquired.
"No, we are entering Brookside Gardens, which is sort of a park within a park. It is a botanical garden with exotic species from all over the world; one of the best gardens public gardens in the mid Atlantic Region of the US."
"But why is there such a tall fence and gate?"
"Deer, Sanjay, Deer. Montgomery County has 900,000 humans and around 300,000 deer. It is one of the largest concentration of urban humans and other large mammals in the world."
"That is nice." said Sanjay, appreciatively.
"Only if you're a deer or a mountain lion These things are locusts with antlers. They'll eat most anything green. We can't hunt them due to human population density, plus Montgomery County is a hotbed of anti gun and anti hunting sentiment. Brookside Garden lost $12,000 worth of tulips to deer a few years back, hence the fence. The deer are everywhere in Montgomery County! One of th weirdest events was picked up by surveillance cameras in the Wheaton Metro Station. A full grown deer was riding the escalator down into the subway! The weird thing is that a full grown deer had no problem in riding an escalator and was doing with the bored aplomb of a seasoned commuter! Then to access the escalator, the deer had to jump the bank of entry stiles. (Unless he had a ticket, which I would is the next evolutionary step for these adaptive creatures!) The other strange thing was that the human commuters didn't seem freaked out by the idea of a deer using the escalator!"
"So what is the solution?" asked Sanjay.
"Nothing cheap or simple." I replied. The Humane Society and the University of Pennsylvania have developed a deer contraceptive that apparently is effective in tests by Fish & Wildlife, That's the good news. The bad news is that it costs $200 to $300 per deer, mainly due to the cost of capture and is good for only about 3 years. So at the moment, the only deer predator is the automobile with occasional mortal damage to the predator and occupants."
We passed through the heavy weighted gate into the Brookside Garden. Here was meticulously controlled and manicured Nature. Nature the way many people like it. Exotic Nature. Trees shrubs and flowers from all over the temperate belt of the world, with the little island nation of Japan dishing up more than its share of exotics. There were all sorts of Japanese flowering plum and cherry trees and Japanese and Korean dogwood, (which is in the process of easing out our native dogwood, which is falling victim to a fungus).
Brookside was Organized Nature, stay-on-the-asphalt-path Nature. The asphalt trail lead you past every tree and shrub, conveniently identified as to with formal name and nickname ("I'm Cryptomeria Japonica, but my friends call me "Chinese Cedar.") and country of origin; sort of an Ellis Island of temperate trees and shrubs.
There was a magnificent specimen of Dawn Redwood (Metasequoia ) elder brother of the more familiar California Sequoias, which was known only from fossil records until it was discovered growing quite happily in a nook and cranny of Western China in the 1940's. Interesting country, China. While we have trees that are 2,000 year old, they have one a little bit older -- and the name of the guy who planted it. Makes you think.
Sanjay was impressed by the neatly mowed lawn sweeping down to a small lake and an attendant Japanese tea house perched over the lake. We Anglo Americans rather like lawns. The Eastern Woodland Ecosystem really doesn't, and tries to avoid it whenever possible, filling in all the blank spaces with trees and shrubs. There are some exceptions: areas called "balds" in Shenandoah and Great Smoky National Parks, No one knows for sure what causes them, but it might have been game management by Native Americans using fire, Like I say, there's quite a bit of argument.
The lawn was inhabited by a large herd of Canada Geese (Yeah, I know birds come in flocks, but Canada geese are not normal birds; they come in flying herds; they graze like cattle and crap almost as prolifically.)
"Are they exotics also?" Asked Sanjay.
No they're a North American species, but the problem is that they live here year around, they no longer migrate." I replied.
"Why is that ? "
"Canada geese are the Greed head Republicans of the bird world," I explained patiently. They are an opportunistic species and very clever at exploiting loopholes in Nature's laws. The main loophole is that we have created artificial ponds and lawns in housing developments, golf courses, and parks. The Canada geese are large aggressive creatures and tend to drive out other waterfowl, such as mallards, pintails and other species of waterfowl."
"But why don't they migrate? Is it not instinctive? "
"There has been a lot of nonsense written about the shortening of the diurnal cycle and its effect on the optic nerve of the Canada goose, triggering a response in the primitive brain of the bird, which is hardwired to begin migration. This is not true. Canada Geese have very good Greed head brains and are hardwired to pursue what they perceive as their own immediate short term interests. Migration is a hard dangerous task, they will not do it unless absolutely necessary. They will instead continue to exploit their resources until they are completely destroyed, then and only then will they move on, very much like their human cousins."
"You do not seem to like Mr. Bush?" Inquired Sanjay.
"As a Bullmoose Republican, I would have much preferred John McCain." I said noncommitally .
"To many of us in India, Mr. Bush . . . [Here Sanjay hesitated for the diplomatic phrase.] Mr. Bush does not seem to have too much upstairs. "
"You have no stupid politicians in India?" I challenged.
"No."
"No?" I said disbelievingly
"We have evil politicians and we have corrupt politicians and we have bigoted narrow minded politicians, but we have no stupid politicians. Each politician is the head of his particular party. To get to that position, he/she has to be resourceful, clever and very, very intelligent."
"How many political parties do you have?"
"About 40 at any given time, but of these only about 8 are really important. However the other 32 parties are still very useful; they can form coalitions to force the government to grant them concessions on some issue in return for voting with the ruling party in a close vote. This is one of the advantages of the parliamentary system of democracy. I suppose we can thank Lord Cornwallis for that." Sanjay said ruefully.
(It seems that during the American Revolution, the Indians also thought it might be a good idea to get rid of the British. Right after the American victory at Yorktown, The Brits rushed Lord Cornwallis over to India to put down the revolt and Cornwallis was so successful that he was made Viceroy of India and that was the way it was until 1947 when India accepted Independence and the British parliamentary system.)
One advantage, (some would say it is a disadvantage) of the parliamentary system over the American federal system is the number of political parties and thus the number of political opinions and choices available. Unlike the American Republicans and Democrats (which Michael Moore has compared to "Tweedledee and Tweedledeedumber "in degree of choice), the Indian system allows a wide spectrum of choice from the Indian Communist Party on the left to a Nazi- like Hindu nationalist party on the right which proposes an "ethnic cleansing" for anyone in Indian who is not Hindu. However, the vast bulk of India common sense voters clump somewhere in the middle, where various politicians tempt them with promises of roads, schools, dams, jobs, agricultural support, just like in West Virginia, with the funds coming from some vague source yet to be announced.
"How many people vote?" I asked.
"About 600 million are eligible, but of course, not everyone does so. Still the turn out is nearly always 60% or more."
(Much better than our turn out, which permitted Bush, but I didn't want to tell Sanjay)
"How do you count all those ballots?" I inquired "It must take two months to find out who won!"
"Actually, it takes less than a day. All voting in India is computerized. Therefore results are available almost instantly after polling places have closed."
Sanjay had caught me off guard. I had forgotten that the primitive, backward India of mud villages and wood cooking fires was also the land of advanced science, engineering, mathematics, and computer technology, with their schools graduating thousands more in these disciplines than American universities.
Now this was interesting! Americans, understandably paranoid after the 2000 election have openly wondered if computer voting without a paper trail, could somehow be programmed to reflect a result other than the voter had intended. This paranoia has been reinforced by the confident statement of the president of the voting machine company that "Bush would win in 2004!" This has led to the not unreasonable suspicion that he may know something we don't.
As Sanjay was, like every fourth Indian, a computer engineer, I asked him if computer fraud was not possible or even probable in Indian election.
Sanjay's answer was an unequivocal "No. "
It seems that while Indian politics are often corrupt, the elections themselves, are eminently fair and honest, due largely to computer voting. The proof of this is that India's wildy differing political parties rarely contest an election since computerized voting has been installed. This is not because Indians are shrinking violets adverse to confrontation. India is a rootin' tootin' Democracy with a Vibrant Culture. ("Vibrant Culture" is Liberal Speak meaning that the locals are prone to slaughter each other at the drop of a religious or caste insult. A "communal disturbance" may mean a riot in which four or five villages are burned to ashes (along with the inhabitants) before the army or the territorial police can make the scene.) However, the contentious Indian voters apparently agree that their elections are honest even if their politicians are often not.
I asked Sanjay what god-like company insured the honesty of Indian computer elections.
Sanjay told me that it was an entity called the Indian Elections Commission and was made up of hundred of thousands of Indians from all political parties, religions, castes, walks of life, etc.
I asked hm how they got all these Norman Rockwell, goody two shoe volunteers to make sure that Indian democracy works.
"They're not volunteers" he responded. "It's like jury duty. If your name is on the voter rolls, you are liable to be called up for election duty. You are given a day or two of training and paid a small amount of money for your time, like jury duty and, like jury duty it is very hard to avoid election duty. Usually the provable care of a sick immediate family member is the only acceptable excuse."
Interesting. It would behoove both the Democrats and the Republicans to declare a truce over voting and, if paper trailess computer voting is to be allowed, import a whole slug of members of the Indian Election Commission to oversee the count in which promises to be the most contentious election in American history. India, the world's largest democracy, would be flattered and honored to oversee an election in one of the oldest democracies. Failure on the part of the U. S. government to take every possible step to assure the validity of the 2004 election could lead to grave problems for the credibility of our democratic institutions.
Sanjay and I had now passed through the magnificent azalea garden (dormant at this time of year) past the gazebo where an endless succession of Asian American bridal parties pose for their wedding pictures (A great money maker for Brookside Garden!) And then into the regionally famous rose garden, which was gloriously in full bloom, as were the crape myrtle trees which provided an overhead accent to antique and hybridized roses.
"I am curious, Sanjay. Is it true that if an Indian boy or girl does not major in Medicine, Engineering, or Computer Science, his or her parents regretfully sew the child up in a big sack and toss it into the Sacred Ganges River?"
(Now India is so exotic to the average American that the poor Indian traveler must be prepared to answer all sorts of weird questions ranging from how many of his family have been eaten by tigers to whether they are currently starving!)
Sanjay started to answer, and then smiled. "Ah, you are joking! But you do have a point! Until very recently, India and Indian parents had to stress the practical sciences both for the future welfare of India and for the success of their children. Now times have changed for the better and we can afford the amenities of life. We can now afford Nature. More and more Indian young men and women are going into the field of Nature Conservancy and Environmental Science."
"At the PhD level?" I inquired
"Yes, at the PhD level. "
"What does an Indian PhD make in dollars in India?"
"Depending on the field, around $20,000."
"Hmm!" I said "Then outsourcing would not only be desirable, but extremely economical for the American taxpayer!"
"What do you mean?" Asked Sanjay, puzzled.
"Well, you see, we have a couple of useless and destructive political appointees, Fran Mainella, Director of the National Park Service and Gale Norton, Secretary of the Interior, neither of whom hold the PhD degree, but who cost the American taxpayer in excess of half a million dollars in salary and benefits each!. If we can outsource these jobs to India and hire a couple of Indian ladies with PhD's, we can save the taxpayers are great deal of money! It would not be necessary that the Indian ladies come to the United States! They need only sign off on documents and send out platitude laden messages to their agencies! Nothing could be simpler! After all, we have outsourced much of computer support services to India and well as interpretation of medical X-rays, then why should the Department of the Interior be any different! Sanjay, you've given me yet another great idea! I should be able to get a retroactive incentive award for this outsourcing plan!"
Joan and Sanjay's wife, Raji, met us in the rose garden, near the butterfly exhibit.
"Did you enjoy?" asked Joan
"Very much so!" said Sanjay.
"It is truly amazing what you can learn in even a short walk in a park!" I responded. "America should have more of them!"
"Parks or walks? "
"Both "
THE SAFETY MESSAGE
Aha! This is what you have been looking and laboring for! The monthly Safety Message! The one thing that allows you to plow through all that environmental opinion in search of useful, bureaucratic knowledge! Safety & Loss Control!
Today's message is a simple one! Keep up to date on your anti-viral defenses! Thunderbear and your kindly editor are object lessons in the resulting horrors of not keeping your anti virus program!
My computer was overwhelm ed by a viral attack that destroyed one issue of THUNDERBEAR just as it was about to be sent! This is why issue #258 has been so late. Not, as some surmised because the Christian Bureaucrat was deceased or anything so mundane.
The Safety and Loss Control lesson is, in addition to anti-viral programs, is to back up everything you do on a disk. This was a simple precaution that I did not apply. I won't fail to do that anytime soon.
Now we get to the matter of Career Safety. This is an election year and the Hatch Act Torquemadas are bearing down on employees who use government property to express a political opinion. We understand that two federal employees are under charges for forwarding jokes and cartoons that one political faction or another considers defamatory. Briefly, you CAN'T do this on government time and/or government equipment. It's that simple!
You must NOT forward THUNDERBEAR on a government computer! It is not only illegal, it is catchably illegal! So don't do it! As far as I know, it is still legal to notify a fellow employee that the bi-monthly THUNDERBEAR safety message is now available at www. workingnet. com/thunderbear, but any other comments should be saved for after hours on your personal computer.
Now I am off to buy a whole new computer that I promise to love, cherish, and obey. I'll talk to you again around the first of December in a hopefully better political environment.