Highlands Hammock Litter

Recreating (and advancing) pk’s censored domains: Macroinformation.org & Knatz.com / Teaching / Society / NoHier / Local Institutions /

Once again, so you know my bias at the outset, at least of this module: I do not approve of human husbanding of the earth. I see no possible political solution. Education is itself a major problem: it can never be a solution.

People were not protecting Highlands Hammock before it became a park; I don’t approve of Park Service care. I suppose the Park Service is better than having cut the forest down to clear land for farming; but a better solution, I believe one nature is working on, is simply to clear off 99.9% of the humans.

How many people are there in Highlands County? I don’t know. There may be 50,000. There may be 70,000 … But to simplify the math, I’ll say 100,000. If only 100 humans remained in the county, I wouldn’t worry about the hammock.

I first talked to the park administration to volunteer to clean the trash floating in Little Charlie Bowlegs Creek. Pete, the boss, was glad to hear it, but invented obstacles: I’d need a canoe. He didn’t have a canoe.

I pressed him. He finally found a canoe to borrow. I used a park truck to go and pick it up. (It remained at the park for years until some kicks trashed it.)

With the canoe there, as per instructions, I put the canoe into the creek by the damn, paddled down to the trash floating by the bridge over the county road, and filled the canoe with bottles, cans, styrofoam cups, fishing line, bobbers, rusting hooks … hub caps, a car transmission … Great. I’d done what I’d intended.

Meantime, at Pete’s invitation, I was giving the tram rides through the park to the paying public: and continued to give free tram rides to the public each CCC anniversary for a decade: sometimes ten, eleven tours that one day: each November.

Working at the park, visiting the park, I would always pick up what litter I could. I still do, and sometimes take a plastic bag to be able to pick up more.

But many a time since 1989 I’ve offered to do this and that: through Pete: the boss. Time and again, nothing happens: other than what I do myself despite the non-encouragement (even outright sabotage).

When the park acquired the lake-filled land called Seven Lakes, I was ecstatic. I roamed and explored, fished, picked up litter. All over I found piles of rusting barbed wire. Now I can pick up a beer bottle, I can pick up somebody’s spent buckshot shell, I can pick up the riddled soda can … but by myself I am not equipped to remove a few hundred pounds of rusted barbed wire. I suggested to Pete that he give me a truck and some CS workers, and I’d see it done. Never happened.

Originally, with the trash in the creek, I pestered and pestered Pete till he got the canoe. Since then I haven’t pestered him. I make the offer … and that’s the last I hear of it.

One time, while employed there but on my own, I took several garbage bags back to the bridge over the creek on the county road. This time I didn’t police the creek; I policed the road side: about one hundred yards worth, either side of the bridge. I estimate the bags’ contents at two hundred pounds when I stopped. I transported the bags to the park’s “shop” area, deposited them by the truck wash. I went to Pete’s office, told him what I had done, told him how much trash there was, where I had put it. I suggested that we call the local paper, ask for a reporter, with camera: hope for a piece in the paper showing how much trash people passing between Highlands and Hardee Counties on the public road through the park throw out by the creek. Nothing. No response. No follow up. No reporter.

I was tempted to take the trash and throw it randomly onto people’s yards in Hardee County. No point. No one would get it.

You know you’re a red neck if
you’ve put the new TV on top of the old one.

Also:

Highlands Hammock
Highlands Hammock Litter
Hammock Scrapbook
SNAFU at Wrede’s Wildlife
Butt Patrol
Season Visits
pk Stories Social, Hierarchical
by Age by Theme by Others Institutional Stories
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About pk

Seems to me that some modicum of honesty is requisite to intelligence. If we look in the mirror and see not kleptocrats but Christians, we’re still in the same old trouble.
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