To whoever tossed that empty gummy bears package onto the verge on second line, don’t worry about it. I got your back.
To the person that donated their unrolled-up roll-up-the-rim Timmy’s cup to the grass on the side of the same road, on behalf of Mr. Horton, I wish you a Happy Canada 150th.
And to the folks that tossed the empty two-liter fruit punch jug, firstly I am sorry to say it was obviously struck by another passing car, and secondly, don’t worry about it because I gathered up the pieces. And by the way two thumbs up for taking the daily title as largest contributor of refined polymer to the local ecosystem, at least along my morning walk route.
Also, and with sincerity this time, Thank You to all the nice drivers who do notice me rummaging through the brush along the verge and steer (safely) into the other lane as they pass. Very kind of you.
Some months ago I had a few doctors come to a consensus that it would be a good thing if I shed a few pounds and made a better effort to dodge the congenital cardio trouble on the male side of the family. So I started taking morning walks near where I work at the intersection of Hwy 124 and Second Line.
Now I consider myself a good tolerant Canadian, multi-cultural, and liberal with a small “l” in most things. But one value system which I have never managed to develop any empathy for is the one that says the debris from your travels is better scattered across the landscape than wedged under your car seat until you find a proper recycling bin. I’m not an obsessive tree-hugger, I can dig humming industry as much as I dig responsible environmental conservation. But I just don’t get the toss-it-out-the-window mindset. It is alien to me. Is not the scenery prettier to you without the scraps and shreds of packaging and junk in it?
So when I go for walks, I stop and pick up litter on the side of the roadway. I generally walk about a kilometer and back, staying on the side that faces on-coming traffic. I specifically go for plastic as I’ve heard it has some ungodly long existence in the ecosystem and is hard on marshland. And I go for cans. Then cardboard or paper depending on weather it is obviously being absorbed by the plants and bugs or not. If something has been there long enough to turn into a nest for critters I leave it alone. Let the bugs do their thing, I’m not a big creepy-crawly fan but they sure know how to convert paper scrap into bio-useful assets.
Each day, or sometimes every second day, along my 1 km walk I pull out a couple handfuls of trash. I don’t take a bag with me and I haven’t got one of those cool litter picker-upper sticks. I just go for a walk and grab stuff that’s obvious and bring it back to my office and toss it in the recycling bin.
Very roughly calculated, if I pull out about a pound and a half of crap per walk, and I walk say four times per week, in the months that aren’t snowed-under, that’s about 140 pounds of junk removed. Or at least re-routed to proper disposal such as it is.
Hey, for half an hour of my time, doing what the doc said meanwhile, I’ll take it.
Simon Hare