Even though my heart was pure and my intentions were good, we Homo Sapiens have a fine way of trying to control nature and thus creating more problems.
The day was warm, when a bee with fuzzy yellow dangling from its little bee legs passed by. I pursued and captured him. Sam had suggested that my tomato blooms in the greenhouse might not pollinate, and I thought perhaps this little fella could help.
Trapping the bee between a jar and a gloved hand, I released him into the greenhouse. Rather than being intoxicated by tomato blooms, he instantly flew straight up and entangled himself in a spider’s web.
The excited spider bee-lined for the bee, until I interfered by grabbing a tomato stake and freed the bee. But I managed to mangle the spider’s web in the process.
I moved the spider to the perennial garden from whence came the bee. Now the bee was inside the greenhouse, and the spider was outside the greenhouse — and no one was the better for it.
Even though my heart was pure and my intentions were good, we Homo Sapiens have a fine way of trying to control nature and thus creating more problems.
Take the cormorant, Sam’s bane of existence. Cormorants consume tons of fish from nearby lakes, creeks and rivers. However, the government protects the cormorant, and it proliferates madly. Regardless, Sam wants a T-shirt urging, “Eat More Cormorant.”
Alligators are protected and are showing up in places where they don’t belong, like reservoirs and neighboring garages and our lake. In some parts, officials have started a limited season on alligators to prevent their residential migration — but not here.
We discovered our alligator while fishing on the Prairie pond. The evening was late, and the sun was sinking when we noticed two knots on a log that moved, there one moment, gone the next.
“Did that log just move?” Sam asked.
“I think so.”
We watched for moving knots until it became obvious there was an alligator amongst us.
Returning to the house I warned the girls to beware of sitting on the dock. There was no cover for the alligator other than under the dock. We also suggested that everyone check under their cars before setting a foot out and look in the garage before entering as well. The alligator was appreciatively decreasing our enjoyment of Prairie living.
Daily we went to the pond to look for the alligator, and eventually we may have fired a few warning shots in the air; but we didn’t shoot the alligator since that would be illegal.
One can call the Wildlife and Fisheries Department, and they will take care of “nuisance animals.” But bear in mind that an animal doing what the animal does naturally, like floating eye-ball deep in a Prairie pond, is not considered a nuisance.
Finding no cover and no peace and quiet, our alligator finally migrated elsewhere.
As for the bee in the greenhouse, he was never seen again, nor was the spider. But the blooms were pollinated, and soon tiny green tomatoes appeared on the vines.
Shannon Rule Bardwell is a Southern writer living quietly in the Prairie. Her email is [email protected].
The Dispatch Editorial Board is made up of publisher Peter Imes, columnist Slim Smith, managing editor Zack Plair and senior newsroom staff.
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