I cannot drive down my country road any more without being repulsed. I truly, honestly get nauseous whenever I pass by the spot where it happened. No, it's not where I hit a deer, nor where there was a grizzly accident.
Nope. Now it's nothing but more field. That is what is so disgusting to me. Now, down the road 10 miles these jokers have cut down and plowed up about 500 trees (not much of an exaggeration, if any) along a dry creek bed. They have had heavy equipment in to sculpt the land with new terraces, etc. I know what they are doing. I know why they are doing it. By eliminating the trees and creek bed they are hoping to gain a few more acres of ground to till, and by sculpting it as they have, they are likely to have a much easier time working the ground and harvesting the crops.
I say, however, that the best laid plans of mice and men Gang aft a-gley! That's right, I said "gang aft a-gley" dammit. When we first cut up the prairie with fences, it wreaked havoc with the migration patterns of many animals. This was further complicated with our infernal criss-crossing of underground petrol-product piping and blacktop roads. Now, as we bull-doze every stand of trees, what is left in the wake? Nothing but a field. That leaves little shelter for deer and other wildlife. It makes this beautiful part of the country look too much like western Kansas. Windbreaks are valuable! Here's what was offered in a KSU study, NON-AGRICULTURAL BENEFITS OF WINDBREAKS IN KANSAS:
"Windbreaks may provide recreational opportunities, scenic beauty, fuelwood, and wildlife habitat in addition to agricultural benefits. Quantitative studies demonstrate that windbreaks on the Great Plains provides important wildlife habitat for woodland edge species, substantial opportunities for recreation, a potentially important source of fuelwood, and enhanced scenic beauty."And this is to say nothing of erosion control.
So, down the road, I am seeing farmers plowing up trees by the hundreds. These people are no longer stewards of the land but slaves of Monsanto. Yet, I digress.
What really turns my stomach is a former homestead now-turned into another field.
This place was easily 80-100 years old. It had an impressive stand of trees surrounding what was likely 4 acres of old homestead land. There were out buildings (a barn, a chicken house, a well house) and a very impressive two-level house with big columns out front. It looked like a small abandoned plantation house from the road.
I wish I knew the history of that old house and farm. I wish I'd known the people who'd lived there, who'd built the place. I wish I had some way to travel back in time and watch the property evolve. Hell, I wish I'd stopped and wandered the property one of the thousand times I have driven by and thought about it.
I grieve for this old place. To me, places hold memories, maybe even ghosts. To destroy them for factory farming is a heinous and criminal act. Where I grew up, every tree was rare and sacred. I'm not tree hugging fairy nymph, either; don't get me wrong. I'm just offering that by slaying 100+ year old trees we're disrespecting our elders. We're spitting in the eye of mother nature. We're pissing away some great shade, wood, possibly walnuts. To bull-doze it all with utter disregard for its worth is disgusting.
I am thoroughly disgusted....so on that, I shall return to my regularly scheduled programming.
__________________________
Details on the phrase, found here:
Meaning: The most carefully prepared plans may go wrong.
Origin: "of mice and men"
From Robert Burns' poem To a Mouse, 1786.
It tells of how he, while ploughing a field, upturned a mouse's nest. The resulting poem is an apology to the mouse:
...
But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane [you aren't alone]
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft a-gley, [often go awry]
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promised joy.
...
The poem is of course the source for the title of John Steinbeck's 1937 novel - Of Mice and Men.
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