The Cussing Man Strikes Again

We had dinner with George and Scarlet the other night. They invited us over because they had a woman there from the Audubon Society who has done three years worth of Plover studies here, collecting data on nesting and distribution. They wanted us to meet her, and maybe share some professional insight.

Turns out this woman was the archetypical tree hugger type. She tried to deny it, but I knew different. First of all, she was wearing Birkenstocks. Then, although she professed a love of meats (beef in particular…but maybe it was just the beefstick that she was into….ah, but I digress), I noticed that she carefully picked out all of the scallops from the linguine, and openly left the mushrooms, so I figured, yea…it’s another damn vegetarian.

There were a number of conversational thrusts and parries, back and forth concerning philosophy of preservation, something only mildly challenging to me as a scientist. Judicious development of resources, and the idea that being a responsible shepherd to our environment entitles one to the privilege of living well. It’s just my position, but one I defend vehemently.

Besides, we make a living assisting clients interested in the prudent development of coastal areas, and I certainly won’t bite the hand that feeds me. This woman was bound and determined to speak with a realtor who is developing a large tract of land north of town here on the Island. The tract lies within federally declared critical habitat for Piping Plover, so at some point they will have difficulty with the project, but this particular realtor is well connected politically, and has pockets that are deep. Not the kind of person that I would want to challenge. So in the course of our conversation, I was asked; “How does Mr. F. feel about eco-tourism?” I snickered and replied; “He could probably sell one condominium unit and make more money than a bunch of bird watchers would bring him in ten years”. Well, this didn’t sit too well, and she told me rather belligerently that she would fight this guy tooth and nail to protect her little birdies (which aren’t even protected here at all). Fine. I asked her for her shoe size, because probably sooner or later with an attitude like that they might just be outfitting her with cement booties.

Now I’m as much of a conservationist as the next guy, and I’ve studied this place long and hard. My own reasoning is that, hey, it’s a sandbar. Sooner or later all of this shit will get blown off of it and they’ll have to start over again. Meanwhile, the species that can compete- will, new areas will be utilized and things will carry on.

So anyway, eventually the topic finally turned from the ethereal, from the controversial to the current and concrete.

The cussing man is at it again.

George told me that last weekend the cussing man was occupying the nice shady breezeway between the Laundromat and Jakes. He was trying to sleep, but the door to Jakes was squeaking. George said that the cussing man asked the management of Jakes to please fix the squeak, but they shined him on, so he got sort of loud with them. I guess the management called the police, and when they showed up, the cussing man cussed them out too. He’s had to find new accommodations now, but at least it wasn’t a hotel with steel bars. The cussing man told George that he “just hated it when things were left unfixed, like that door”…he also lamented having cussed out the cops, said he probably shouldnt’ve done that.

It’s the wrong time of the year to get evicted from anywhere shady. The daily temperatures hover in the mid 90’s, and the beachwater is as warm as soup, not even a chance to cool off here. The entire coast is holding its collective breath. Hurricane season is on us, full swing.