...I have been finding it difficult to focus on police brutality with whooping cranes on my mind. No really, this is a big deal!
That is a big deal, Mr. Beagles. I remember the story of how the whooping crane was nearly driven to the brink of extinction and I think the pesticide DDT had something to do with it, making their eggshells too fragile for survival in the wild. I may be mis-remembering but I think Rachel Carson's book, Silent Spring, had something to do with the revival of the whooping crane population.
Did you get any photos? This is the kind of story that your local newspaper would love to jump on, maybe even send a reporter. "Area conservationist creates habitat for endangered species," or fake news to that effect.
I don't know how often Mr. Beagles crosses the big bridge to the UP but I just read about something that was news to me, Yooperlites. These are fluorescent rocks that are found along the shores of Lake Superior. Beaglesonia and its environs are a constant source of surprise to me, a reminder of a different reality that is too easy to forget.
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But how do you talk to a cop? I don't know.
You seemed to have been quite the rascal in your youth, Uncle Ken, with a lot of experience dealing with police officers of different jurisdictions. I feel like a regular goody-two-shoes, never having anything more serious than traffic violations on the official record.
From my experience and offhand conversations with my sister, don't call them cops; "police officer" is the preferred term near as I can tell. If circumstances require me to interact with the police the first words out of my mouth are "Excuse me, Officer" and I take it from there. It can be a subtle dance of social interaction and you never know how it will end but it's always ended well for me. Have I ever made a payoff or skated after being caught using/holding a controlled substance? I'm not saying, but I may have been a bit of a rascal myself. For a good review of how it used to be in Chicago, check this out.
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