Another dog-eat-dog day in paradise
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Late one evening last week after all the people had left Ministers Island, Sharon and I were strolling across the sweeping front lawn to Van Horne’s big house. “What is that?” Sharon said, looking down. She stooped and picked it up. It was a dismembered baby fawn leg. Its hoof was the tiniest I’d ever seen.
We carried it to the car and took it over to the farmer’s cottage. We chatted about it for a few minutes, and figured that it must have been done by the eagles who’d been making a fuss in the trees that afternoon.
Life is a competitive event and sometimes hard. On the drive off the island I thought about the local Haley boy’s tragic ATV accident and a friend’s son stopping to pick up the other boy just minutes after the crash. Most of us know that gut-wrenching, dislocated feeling of shock. But more often life’s shocks come more gradually, unseen. Like aging or disease.
This weekend we met with the farmer again. We sat on the front deck of the cottage looking at the ocean and talked about sustainable farming, raising goats and crops. Our talk went from mechanized farming to using horses. Any kind of farming is no easy way to survive he said. But by hand? The best a strong man and his family with a good team of horses might manage is about 5 acres of crops. He’d seen it. A tall, rangy Czechoslovakian and his wife moved into the farm next door to him and managed to eke out a living somehow. His wife, who was now 60 looks more like 70, he said, is worn right down.
Farming always leads me back to post-fossil fuel thinking, of course. I can’t help dialing up new information on the Internet. A new guy popped up, an ex-cop named Michael Ruppert. He doesn’t think the end of fossil fuel will be gradual at all. In fact, he wrote a book called Confronting Collapse, outlining survival strategies. There’s also documentary film on him, which is only partially flattering, but you can get the full idea from Ruppert himself in the videoclip below. In the end we’re left wondering whether he’s a wingnut or a visionary.
Late one evening last week after all the people had left Ministers Island, Sharon and I were strolling across the sweeping front lawn to Van Horne’s big house. “What is that?” Sharon said, looking down. She stooped and picked it up. It was a dismembered baby fawn leg. Its hoof was the tiniest I’d ever seen.

Life is a competitive event and sometimes hard. On the drive off the island I thought about the local Haley boy’s tragic ATV accident and a friend’s son stopping to pick up the other boy just minutes after the crash. Most of us know that gut-wrenching, dislocated feeling of shock. But more often life’s shocks come more gradually, unseen. Like aging or disease.
This weekend we met with the farmer again. We sat on the front deck of the cottage looking at the ocean and talked about sustainable farming, raising goats and crops. Our talk went from mechanized farming to using horses. Any kind of farming is no easy way to survive he said. But by hand? The best a strong man and his family with a good team of horses might manage is about 5 acres of crops. He’d seen it. A tall, rangy Czechoslovakian and his wife moved into the farm next door to him and managed to eke out a living somehow. His wife, who was now 60 looks more like 70, he said, is worn right down.
Farming always leads me back to post-fossil fuel thinking, of course. I can’t help dialing up new information on the Internet. A new guy popped up, an ex-cop named Michael Ruppert. He doesn’t think the end of fossil fuel will be gradual at all. In fact, he wrote a book called Confronting Collapse, outlining survival strategies. There’s also documentary film on him, which is only partially flattering, but you can get the full idea from Ruppert himself in the videoclip below. In the end we’re left wondering whether he’s a wingnut or a visionary.