biofuels, environmental degradation and world hunger

We now know that the very thing we hoped would become a multifaceted solution has, like Frankenstein, become a multifaceted nightmare. The real-world experience of biofuels has shown us that biofuels: ratchet up prices for basic food staples which they are displacing or diverting exacerbating world-wide hunger; they are driving increased destruction of virgin rainforests to create yet more farmland so more folks can capitalize on this windfall (an area the size of Rhode Island was cleared in the Amazon in the second half of 2007 for this very purpose!!); the US continues to subsidize the growing of these biofuel crops thereby artificially deflating the cost of this "fuel" when compared to alternative, renewable and clean fuels, thus delaying and suppressing investments in renewable energy research and installations. CBS reports that there have been food riots in Bangladesh, Egypt, Burkina Faso, Mauritania, Mozambique and Senegal. And most recently Haiti where a UN soldier was shot and killed trying to deliver food! (check out New Era of Hunger on www.cbsnews.com).

When all is accounted for, including the loss of world forests, the increased use of fertilizer, the run up in food prices, the civil violence and unrest around the world spurred on by long lines and short supplies, the social injustice (the poor around the world now spend 75% of their income on food alone), the diversion from areas of real energy advancement, biofuels become a culprit, not a savior.

We must limit their development and use and devote our land and our financial resources to those areas that can provide real solutions.

my bird feeder

It no doubt seems odd to set up a birdfeeder in early spring, just as the trees begin to flower, just after the birds successfully scraped and foraged their way through long winter's barrenness. But even as the earth was rousing itself from a chilly slumber, so was I.

My son and daughter-in-law were house shopping and invited me to come along. (I am always eager to see how other folks live.) One house they looked at had a village of birdfeeders out on the deck beyond the breakfast room. The flittering and flattering of feathers and beaks was incessant. And irresistible. I wanted such a menagerie outside my window too.

So in the better-late-than-never mode, I bought a stand, a gracious feeder, lots of seed and settled down to enjoy the show.

And indeed I do. True, without a birder to tell me exactly who is coming to dinner, I cannot be certain about identifying my feathered friends. But so far it seems that we host a constant cacophony of cardinals (of these I am sure); chipping sparrows; brown-headed cowbirds; titmouses (titmice?) and sometimes woodpeckers. (I welcome and invite corrections on these observations.)

The choreography and pecking order of those who visit our hanging restaurant are endlessly fascinating. The sparrows and the cardinals seem to get along just fine. And cardinal couples seem to share the feed nicely. But rarely do two male cardinals alight at the same time. Although as many as 6 or more sparrows share a common table. But everyone leaves when the cowbird comes.

What no one told me was how hard it is to fill this feeder. Like most, it is top-loading, made of metal mesh that holds the seed like a silo. The seed slowly empties into a dish on the bottom as the birds empty it out. The problem is, that as I pour the seed in from the top it bounces out through the sides of the mesh and spills all over the ground below. I was unhappy about this, but it seemed to be nothing more than a nuisance, and a waste.

But today, it proved to be deadly. Working at my desk this morning, I noticed a cinnamon-colored animal stealthily creeping to my pachysandra, near where the feeder resides. At first I thought it was my cat, who is remarkably the same color. But he was snoozing on my sofa. Peering out the window again I saw that it was indeed not the cat, but our fox, whom we have taken to calling Charlie. Odd, I thought for him to be out this time of day. And so evidently in the open.

And what, I began to tense up, was he doing? It didn't take a naturalist to realize he was stalking - eyes and ears trained on prey that was hidden from me by the cover of the undergrowth. But now, following his gaze, even I could see the leaves of the pachysandra under the birdfeeder shaking by the movements of an animal exquisitely oblivious to all but gorging on the unnatural bounty created by my sloppy pouring. In a moment, the fox pounced and after but one or two attempts, emerged with a female cardinal in his mouth.

I felt that I had clenched the bird in mine - felt the pulsing, dry feathers on my tongue. It was my fault the bird was caught. For a moment I tried to console myself by taking the fox's side: he too needs to eat and no one puts carrion feeders out for him. This is nature tooth and claw, the way it is meant to be.

But in truth it felt more like a fixed hand, a rigged game, like shooting fish in a barrel.

My next effort at consolation was that perhaps the cardinal was ill already - else why would it not have perched on the feeder, safely out of harm's way, as the other birds do? But then, I cannot really see if other birds feed below the post, feasting on the flotsam that sails from the feeder.

So now I simply wonder, without consolation: Is it too early for the cardinal to have laid her eggs? Are there fledglings somewhere now without a mother?

The chattering at the feeder continues - no mourning is evident there. But I wonder who, besides me, is missing the cardinal.

on the tail of an owl

So there I was, in a huff and a snit and an altogether foul mood (yes, even I get that way sometimes) when my husband called from the driveway (he was on his way out to pick up our son, not to get a safe distance away from me) telling me that the owl that occasionally serenaded us with its nocturnal chantings was perched ever-so-clearly in the tree not 40 feet from him. It was six o'clock, Eastern Daylight Time. Sunset was still an hour away so despite the overcast, drizzly day, I had a date with a diffident neighbor.

I put on my shoes, my coat (it was cold), and slowly went outside, careful not to shut the door and thus scare away the bird. As I gingerly began my walk down the driveway, I saw a large, chubby bird take flight, darting from the bare poplar to the stately evergreen. It wasn't more than 20 feet off the ground and 100 feet from me, but it was hard to pick out amidst the tangle of branches.

Gently, I kept walking. These birds are keen witnesses, though. I hadn't gone 10 more steps when it swooped away, skimming along the base of the cherry trees that line the front of my yard. I kept after it as it turned north, still flying low, and disappeared in a heap of forest debris. I approached, peering into dips and burrows and gaps, seeing nothing with these novice, untrained eyes. No doubt, birders, trackers, naturalists of all sorts would have seen a library-full of information. I just saw a heap of debris.

It was time to give the bird its space, and go back inside. And just as you might imagine, I returned to my space feeling a whole lot better. You can't stay knotty trailing a thing of beauty, even if it gives you the slip.

the story behind the things we buy

If you are looking for a quick way to learn more about the way things are made, and discarded, like cosmetics, plastic bags, chocolate, how they affect the environment and what we can do to lower our waste and increase our health, check out Good Stuff? - A Behind-the-Scenes Guide to the Things We Buy.
(http://www.worldwatch.org/taxonomy/term/44)

Published by the World Watch Organization, it is a free download-able booklet which devotes one page to each of its 24 categories.

Quick and easy to read, it satisfies the first flush of curiosity about the things in our everyday life that we often don't give enough thought to.