Respected Scientist Says Chemical-laden Crop Seeds Endanger Birds and Bugs

Tom Philpott over at Mother Jones has an alarming article on the subject:

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Once again this spring, farmers will begin planting at least 140 million acres—a land mass roughly equal to the combined footprints of California and Washington state—with seeds (mainly corn and soy) treated with a class of pesticides called neonicotinoids. Commercial landscapers and home gardeners will get into the act, too—neonics are common in lawn and garden products. If you're a regular reader of my blog, you know all of that is probably bad news for honeybees and other pollinators, as a growing body of research shows—including three studies released just ahead of last year's planting season. 

But bees aren't the only iconic springtime creature threatened by the ubiquitous pesticide, whose biggest makers are the European giants Bayer and Syngenta. It turns out that birds are too, according to an alarming analysis co-authored by Pierre Mineau, a retired senior research scientist at Environment Canada (Canada's EPA), published by the American Bird Conservancy. And not just birds themselves, but also the water-borne insect species that serve as a major food source for birds, fish, and amphibians.

 Read the rest ... 

In Memorium: Duane Allman - November 20, 1946 to October 29, 1971

I'm not going to rehash the needlessly premature death of this southern rock pioneer.  Instead, I thought it would be an interesting opportunity to re-examine my long-held personal thoughts about the man and his music.

Left: Duane Allman at the Fillmore East, June 26, 1971 (late show)

 Like the idea that Vietnam would have never happened had John Kennedy lived, or that the auto industry has long hid technology that would allow cars to run on tapwater, I had long subscribed to the orthodoxy that the Allman Brothers I loved as a kid had been cripplingly diminished by the early death of Duane Allman.  And, of course, the corollary of that belief was that Gregg Allman was a poser riding on his dead brother's coattails -- a notion that only grew stronger when Gregg took a dip in the Hollywood celebrity pool by marrying Cher in 1975. 

In that context, seeing Gregg recently on Conan O'Brien, where he seemed slow-witted and sadly fuzzy, was meanly vindicating.  It seemed like Gregg had finally reaped all he had sown.

However, as these things tend to go, it was the recent use of the song, Midnight Rider, in a controversial GEICO motorcycle insurance TV commercial that led me to re-think the Allman Brothers experience with hard-won maturity.  Or as some call it, "post-middle age." 

Okay ... I'm just getting old.

Now, I can't claim to have been an Allman Brothers fan from the beginning.  My first coherent recollection (there may others, not so coherent) of the band was from a 1972 wintertime campfire listening  --> — we were much more rugged back then!  --> — on the cassette player in my old Chevy van at a campground in Noble Canyon above Pine Valley. 

Someone  — probably Paul Johnson or Jimmy Stoneking  — had brought along a recently acquired copy of Eat a Peach.  And I can still remember the first time I heard the opening strains of Blue Sky.  Then someone mentioned that the dude playing lead guitar on the record had just died in a motorcycle crash.  Which I'm sure created an even stronger psychological effect on me as I listened to this sometimes overlong, sometimes unremarkable ... but occasionally truly brilliant ... album.

And who could have ever imagined that a second Allman Brothers Band member, bassist Berry Oakley, would die in another motorcycle accident only three blocks from the site of Duane's fatal accident?

Now, I can't find the original attribution the oft-quoted comment.  But culture critic Greil Marcus is said to have once described "parts" of Eat a Peach as an "after-the-rain celebration ... ageless, seamless ... front-porch music stolen from the utopia of shared southern memory."  Which is sure about as close as I can ever hope to get to the essence of this record.

Of course, that also begs the question:  Just which "parts" of Eat a Peach did Marcus have in mind?

Well, for me, you can keep the half-hour of audio misery entitled Mountain Jam.  Call me shallow.  But the songs I loved from the get-go on Eat a Peach were Ain't Wastin' Time No More (Gregg Allman), Melissa (Gregg Allman), Blue Sky (Dickey Betts), and the truly gorgeous Little Martha (Duane Allman)

So imagine my surprise, fast-forwarding to 2013, to learn that my idolized-in-youth and motorcycle-martyred guitar hero Duane, played no part in the Eat a Peach version of Melissa.  While the song had been recorded with Duane several times previously, was recorded after Duane's death during December 1971 at Criteria Studios in Miami, Florida.

But then, Blue Sky, which Dickey Betts had penned about his Native American girlfriend, Sandy "Bluesky" Wabegijig, did feature Duane playing exchanging lead guitar riffs with Betts, right?

And if there was ever a fitting epitaph to a promising musical career cut so tragically short, it has to be the final cut on Eat a Peach: the achingly beautiful Little Martha.   The only Allman Brothers Band track written solely by Duane, the version of Little Martha appearing on Eat a Peach was recorded just weeks before Duane's death.

Sorry ... give me a moment here.

Anyhow, Little Martha's simple melody and rhythmic counterpoint quickly made it a favorite among Allman Brothers fans, and acoustic guitar virtuoso Leo Kottke, who often covered the song in live performance, once called Little Martha "the most perfect guitar song ever written."  And who the hell am I to argue with the likes of Leo Kottke?

Now, I admit that much of my misspent youth is a blur.  Some of that is just a trick of time to be sure.  Many other parts were willfully blocked out, merely to save my sanity.  And yet others were inadvertently lost in a haze of recreational drugs and drink. 

But I do recall other Allman Brothers Band songs I loved.  And I always assumed those to were from the golden days before Duane's death.

So, here I sit, surprised again to go back to the archives and learn that most of those songs, including Ramblin' Man, Southbound, and Jessica, had been included on the album Brothers and Sisters, and were all written and recorded after Duane's death.

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Well there you have it.  Confessions from a part-time, maybe even fair weather Allman Brothers fan.  And from someone who has gained a newfound appreciation for the often and unfairly maligned brother Gregg. 

So what about the version of Midnight Rider used on that GEICO commercial?  Near as I can tell, it's pure Duane from the 1970 album Idlewild South.  So when all's said and done, the man's legacy endures  --> — no matter how confused I may have been about who he really was, and what he really did in the few short years we had him.

So what's all this got to do with birds? 

Nothin'.  Not a thing.