Dac Crossley's Western Blog

Science and Politics

Spring beckons to us, the season of renewal and our gratitude for the natural world in all its awakenings. Here in Georgia we watch crocus and daffodil, quince flowers, Forsythia, a few early redbuds. And leaf buds on oaks begin to swell.

And politics swells also, the flow of venom matches the flow of sap in our trees. Keep your head down.

A good friend has advised me, the purpose of my blog is to advertise my western writing. Avoid politics, he said, and religion, since these topics will alienate some who you want to reach. Good advice.

Ecologists attempt to understand how natural systems work. Environmentalists attempt to influence legislation.

I’m an ecologist. But sometimes…

Just finished reading Censoring Science, by Mark Bowen, about the way that politicians distorted the scientific reports of Jim Hansen about global warming. The book isn’t very well-written, the time line is confusing and it’s filled with alphabet soup.

The message is clear, however. Bowen shows how the Bush White House, and over-reaching, kiss-up underlings, consistently distorted the implications of scientific findings.

Bowen makes a good point – Skeptics doubt the result of the analysis for scientific reasons. Doubters object to the result on other grounds – political or religious?

Early on, I was a skeptic. Not about global warming, which is obvious, but that human activities could influence the earth’s climate engine.

I was wrong. The data are in. We humans are snowballing this climate change, and it’s time to stop it.

How? Now, that’s another story.

Spring in the Desert

February is giving up, warm and clear, and crocus and daffodils and I think -- “spring!” I feel one with Omar –

Come fill the cup, and in the fire of spring
Your winter garment of repentance fling.

And the desert will awaken, with the spring rains. Georgia is not a desert yet, even if it seems headed that way. The rains awaken my memories of other deserts, and revivals and blooms. Little blue flowers everyplace, green leaves on the ocotillo and huisache. Mesquite blooms like tiny yellow bottle-brushes. Oh, I have studied them.

And the insects, and the big hairy spiders. Thank you, Mildred Tuma, for showing me how to pour water down their middens and bring them scrambling out. Back off!

And red bugs – once again.

I marveled at the big red mites the spring rains flush forth. Beautiful creatures, called “velvet mites” in German. Red fuzz stalking about, feeding on the termites that the rains have encouraged to swarm.

And the little cottony patches on the cactus leaves – white fuzz hiding the cochineal bugs. Pick one up (careful of those thorns!) and mash it between your fingers. Red dye. As a boy I smeared it on my forehead, red slashes down my cheeks. Did the Apache and Comanche mark themselves in this way?

In the springtime?