Swallows of Capistrano, shark repellant of Nome*, turkey buzzards of wherever-the-hell it is, take note.
Tonight while I was standing on the deck, the first mosquito of spring buzzed past. This is not an insignificant event. There are places here where the little bastards can carry off a small child or a puppy. There are places here where the only effective protection is a shotgun loaded with birdshot.
And out in the country, say, in July, you just don't even go there. Think: clouds of them, so many that there is this overwhelming hum all around you. I admit to running back to the truck, no matter how sissy that might sound. You weren't there.
Now, the early ones are pretty slow, but I didn't kill the one I saw. It was rather plucky flying out there in the rain. I just stood there thinking, "Damn!" This year should prove to be less of a bloodbath because I am no longer living below sea level in a Goldstream swamp. I'm like, 100 feet higher and probably won't be living in a mosquito-nursery/moat.
Unless, of course, it rains all summer.
Oil Industry Anti-Tax Propaganda count: 2 in one commercial break. One was a BP one tying the gasline development to us not rocking that boat, the other featured a "real Alaskan" talking about how we were going to triple the tax rate on the oil industry.**
* Interesting and actually true: when 'breakup' occurs in Nome, melt water flows through this old stockpile of shark repellent/marker dye from WWII and Steadman Avenue (which has a downhill grade) has a bright green flow of the stuff, thereby announcing the arrival of spring.
** Which is a crock. Along with the message that because of declining production, profits were going to decline. Last I checked, Big Oil was awash in record profit. Hell, they were still happy to produce oil when it was only $14 a barrel. Remember those days? Damn!