Alan
I spent last weekend in a blind in Central Washington looking for wolves. A new pack has moved into the Teanaway River Valley, but the howlers never showed themselves to us. Still, I did get to read Bill McKibben’s latest book Oil and Honey. The setting—beautiful, semi-wild, and quiet but for the occasional honk of a bull elk—was perfect for reading the book, which is a braided discussion of Bill’s frenetic life leading 350.org and his apprenticeship to a slow-and-steady beekeeper in his home state of Vermont.
It may not be his greatest book, but everything Bill writes is worth reading. What’s flabbergasting to me is that he somehow found time to write it at all while maintaining the most grueling travel and speaking schedule imaginable. (However much you’re doing for our collective future, you’ll feel inspired to do more by the example he sets.) Here’s a taste:
Every time I went to D.C., I felt like I was visiting the cashier at the front of the store. That’s the obvious place to start when you’ve got a problem—maybe she can solve it for you. But if not, going to her for help year after year is just perverse; at a certain point you’ve got to take your problem to the manager in the backroom and demand what you need. Congress is the cashier. ExxonMobil, the Koch brothers, and Peabody Energy are the big boys. That’s who we were gearing up to go after now.
Not much for pet-blogging, I nonetheless found myself weirdly intrigued by this post on “predator-friendly ranching.” It covers the finer points of dispatching dogs to guard sheep from coyotes.
Nicole
From Paul Constant’s must-read article in this week’s issue of The Stranger, a teaser:
Of course, shutdowns can’t last forever. Maybe even now, as you’re reading this sentence, the shutdown is over. When it ends, cable’s talking heads will distribute “points” to each “side” based on public perception. Polls will be taken. Wrists will be slapped. Victory speeches will be given. But the shutdown isn’t even the real story. The truth is so much worse.