We live with windows open wide in the summer, though it’s not such a good summer for listening to crickets and insect chatter. There are signs everywhere … slow, stop, men at work, road work ahead … fence lines and driveways littered with multi-colored ribbons that speak the secret code no one truly understands.
There’s one in every direction, so it seems. The roof you can barely see through the grass on the left is my house. Our barn is a straight shot from the drilling rig about a half mile away. Just because we say no drilling here doesn’t mean we’re exempt from the bother next door.
The drilling continues 24/7 … someone said four new holes at the same site. I can’t really fathom the whole thing. I’m all for progress but if this is it I’d really like to stick my head in the sand where it’s blissfully quiet. I don’t know, though, if I can pretend the slow, silent hillsides around here are undisturbed.
The back-up beeps of trucks in motion travel across the hills, bounce off the barn straight into my bedroom window throughout the night. This is the summer of glorious lightning bugs but the night noises have disappeared in my neck of the woods.
Trucks barrel down back roads. Dust rolls. Strangers drive onto properties and open gates and literally cut fences to make roadways to mysterious sites. And no, they don’t give 24-hour notice even though that’s what someone’s contract says in black and white.
This is not a black and white issue. There are 50 shades of gray and 100 shades of white hot and blood red. Who do you call …
… when calves eat ribbons tied to fences and die a slow death?
… when strangers make holes in fences without regard for the animals they contain?
You should complain to someone, surely! But who? Mr. No One is in charge and good luck finding that needle in the haystack. Everyone has a story and everyone speaks a bit of the truth and you’ll never, EVER get a straight answer.
Just say no.
Of course not everyone agrees. What do YOU think? I’d love to know your opinions …