I took Mocha to run today. He was neutered one week ago and has been constrained as a result. The weather was on-and-off, and Syd had gone with his dogs earlier, during a clear break. So it was just us, traversing this route for the first time in a few weeks. Happily, no motos, no quads, no horses, no woodcutters – OK, a few cows that Mocha ran to and barked at – but with little apparent result (with Benji they would have been making noise and moving, not a Good Thing.)
I’ve previously written about trash dumped there in the middle of nowhere, for no apparent reason, but it continues to beggar the imagination. Consider this location —
— where we now find a discarded Epson printer. And not just discarded: the blue-green stuff to its left are the bits of glass from the deliberately smashed display. So somebody carried this thing far into an empty area, only for the purpose of smashing its display screen and leaving it?
A bit further along, new discarded clothing, apparently children’s winter wear. So we’re in the middle of winter, and the best thing you can think to do with unneeded clothing that can keep a child warm, is not to donate it to the take-anything thrift shop, or even discard it in the ubiquitous trash containers for some scavenger to find, but carry it hundreds of meters into the middle of nowhere and throw it on the ground where it will serve no one?
I’m sure at some point I documented the sudden appearance of discarded auto parts. These have in fact diminished – there were, if I recall, three windshields. The other two, unbroken, have apparently been harvested. And maybe other parts as well. I have photos here, elsewhere, somewhere.
At another location, where overnight appeared a huge pile of construction plastic sheeting some time ago, now widely scattered by the wind, a new visual accent: a smashed and probably UV-sun-rotted plastic dish rack. (But why so shattered?)
I discussed this over dinner with my wife. Perhaps we’re not witnessing a cultural manifestation (these people!), or necessarily a low level of awareness (these troglodytes!).
Maybe something different: an expression of frustration, anger. Not that you would experience that meeting them. But they are expressing frustration and anger about their environment – not discerning physical from emotional. Trashing their physical environment somehow serves an emotional need, not so much different from people who cut themselves.
Down the rabbit hole…
These is the image Paul refers to in his comment below.