April 2017. Devolve, already. Humans en-masse make fatally stupid decisions and I am extending specific Mob Darwin Awards to ridicule consensus opinions that are too stupid to live. Number 1: Louisiana and the Mississippi Delta. This Lovely LAND/TIME VISUALIZER, "Losing Ground" shows the soggy encroachment of sea into once-vital land. Bob Marshall has been moniitoring and reporting on the decline of liveable Louisiana land for many years, In the 1930's the Army Corps of Engineers began work on a network of enormous levees that prevent the Mississippi river delta from functioning as a delta -- a silt deposit system that builds ground.
Dusty caught a rat... and a rat... and a rat...
Perhaps he's caught another rat by now.
I pull into our driveway after negotiating long traffic queues, and what should I see but Dusty walking towards me, a dark shape in his mouth, Jacob agog in the background. "Did he catch a bird?!"
"No, it lookd like a rat."
Dusty is our 14-year-old backyard cat. He came with the house. He is arthritic and slow, truculent in looks but sweet by disposition. Bev "Dick & Bev who sold us the house" Ehrhardt told me, "He walks slowly but I've seen him leap onto THAT deck like a young cat."
It must be true, because there he is,
Dusty dropped his bundle and stood, proudly submitting to his well-deserved strokes. The prey he had captured was too big to be a mouse, too small for a rat, carrying the large head that bespoke an infant. A young rat, we decided.
It was dead. Should we take it away, or let Dusty eat it?
I grabbed the camera and snapped a picture, the meaningless reassuring digital "click" startling Dusty into running ten feet away, where he flopped down and submitted to back rubs and endearments.
We wandered off, Jacob and I. Fifteen minutes later, there was Dusty with ANOTHER rat. From whence did these infernal animals spring?
When Dusty was about to lose Ratlet Two in the flowers, I took it away, put it in Helix's cage, led Dusty upstairs for a few morsels of Yummy Food, then patiently stalked the hunter-cat to see where these rats were coming from.
At first, Dusty stalked me back, regarding me fair prey for cat scritches. Once disabused of the notion, he crept, minute by minute, cat nap by cat nap, to my uphill neighbor's basement grille. My neighbor is eighty if she's a day, is she, and loathe to meet new people. There, beneath her overhang he lurked, and...
Four was the limit. The whole herd accounted for, Dusty took up a three-day vigil outside the neighbor's rat hole.
Mom recommends traps.
Perhaps Dusty has caught another rat by now.