More Alive Than Ever

I spent the better part of this morning in the town of Franklin, down south on my beloved Franklin Blvd., out at the Stone Lakes Wildlife Refuge. Two Canadian geese came into range this morning and were killed by me. I was really duck hunting, but if geese come into range, well, they will be the target of my passive shots...much like these sentences...quite passive.

Two geese! In four years of hunting I have only ever taken a single shot at a goose -- I had never killed one, and today I bagged two in separate passings. I felt more ALIVE than EVER.

So I will breast them out tonight and will follow a recipe from my goose-hunting co-worker, and hope like hell I like goose. I am afraid, really, that I won't like goosemeat, because I will not kill them going forward if I won't eat them.

I am afraid, really, that as our hallowed economy rebounds and Elk Grove expands ever southward, there won't be any birds left around here. It was absolutely fantastic to observe about fifteen mating pairs of Sandhill Cranes fly overhead this morning, with two landing just outside my spread. It was equally fantastic to watch about 65-80 American white pelicans circle around my blind.

Pelicans. Twenty minutes from home.

I am afraid, really, that as Elk Grove commandeers more land to its south to site all those supposed 55,000 average median income (AMI) jobs the city says it needs, then that will simply allow for thousands more people to escape the confines of the city proper and build themselves starter mansions on 2-3 acres on former farmland or former open space, creating more long range commuters, more roads and expansion of the rural roads already in existence. While Stone Lakes itself might be spared, when we destroy all the surrounding areas to build theaters, strip malls, auto repair shops, Asian foot massage parlors, jiffy lubes, cell phone shops, big box retail and dozens of square miles of low density car-dependent suburban slums, this will all lead to waterfowl declines.

We will have no open space left -- and it will all go unnoticed by the thrum of suburban living -- housewives driving minivans to get their morning latte, to attend yoga at the gym; househusbands driving Yukons to drop the little ones off at practice; residents yawning at 3:45 AM preparing to slog out their daily commute to Walnut Creek; Elk Grovians driving, driving, driving.

The bane of Elk Grovia -- open space.