I was walking the orchard rows the other day, unclogging and repairing irrigation emitters. I walked from tree to tree down the row with a paper clip in hand. I bent the paper clip so that one end stuck out like a thin aluminum leg. When I came across a stopped- up sprinkler, I ran the paper clip into the orifice of the emitter and freed it of whatever obstruction—trash, ants, sand, algae, etc.—that may have fouled its stream. I enjoy this task because of the scale of the work. By scale, I mean, it’s done on foot walking tree to tree in the open air using my hands to accomplish the goal. There are gnats that swarm me and sweat that runs down my back but I can smell the rotting clumps of grass from where I recently mowed the orchard. I can feel the same breeze on my face that stirs the leaves. It cools the sweat-soaked shirt on my back.
I can also better see what’s going on in the orchard. The lowest hanging limbs are devoid of leaves, shorn off by deer browsing. I check the foliage for black aphids and mites. The pecans seem to be sizing normally and the trees are full. As I look up from my work on one of the sprinklers I catch a glimpse of motion ahead to my left. It’s a fox, trotting along. I’m sure he knows I’m here but he pays me no mind.
I recognize this fox by the mangy patch above his tail. I have seen him coming in and out from beneath the old corn crib that I use as a barn to hold my supplies. He’s moving around a little more now because the orchard has been mowed. When the grass is tall it is home to mice and other small rodents that travel in the relative safety of tunnels made from bent-over grass blades. I see them scatter each time I mow the orchard. It makes excellent hunting ground for the Barn Fox. But the mowed ground offers little cover for his prey and so, the barn fox expands his hunting ground.
Foxes are well adapted to farm life. They are considered to be mostly nocturnal, but the barn fox feels comfortable here. He has mixed pine and hardwood forests nearby, brushy areas, orchards, fields, cropland, and creek bottom. He can slip from cover to cover and has access to blackberries and wild plums in summer, along with all manner of creatures with which to add diversity to the diet—frogs, lizards, snakes, insects, birds, and of course, the rodents in the grass. The barn provides good shelter. There is a den dug out of the loamy sand beneath it that shelters the barn fox from the summer heat and the winter wind.
Like the deer, squirrels, raccoons, and opossum, the fox has adapted well to life with human beings and thrives in the spaces between the wild and the civilized. “No need to go all the way down to the creek for a drink of water”, he seems to think. “I’ll just chew some holes in these irrigation lines.” Such critters would be shot on sight on a lot of farms I know. But, I like to see them every once in a while and I admire their adaptability. I too, make my living between the wild and the civilized.
To put it another way, I live with one foot in the old world and one foot in the new. Always have. For some reason, I’ve always admired the old ways of my grandparents. I lament a lot of the trappings of what we call civilization today. Yet, I participate in much of it, as most people do. I suppose that makes me a hypocrite in a way. But, aren’t we all. Its hard not to marvel at the wonders of the technological age in which we live, and though I participate, its good to set boundaries. Most would agree. The difference between people on this matter, and this usually come down to generational differences, is where to set those boundaries.
I’m not a luddite necessarily, at least not so you can notice, but I’m only willing to go so far when it comes to technology. We can all agree on the benefits of indoor plumbing and electricity. We couldn’t have dishwashers, warm toilet seats or electric guitars without these gifts from the minds of men. As a native of the deep south, I consider central air conditioning the greatest invention in the history of civilization. I enjoy the convenience of air travel because I like to immerse myself in the Rocky mountains of the American West when I have opportunity. Travel by car or rail would be preferable but I generally lack the time away from work or the farm those modes require. Air travel also allows me to see new places and experience different cultures. There’s a lot of them in the world. Still, much like the Barn Fox, when it comes right down to it, I am most comfortable at the farm.
My eyes first fell on a computer around 6th or 7th grade, around 1983 or so, but I didn’t use one routinely until I was in graduate school ten to twelve years later, and I certainly had never used the internet until sometime around 1995. Computers make some things much easier, such as writing this essay and sending it out into the world, but I’m not enamored with them. They are a tool, like cars and machinery. I prefer to get away from them as much as I can.
Amazon.com presents a dilemma. It has played its own role in destroying some aspects of the small town life that I love. But, I am a book addict. The nearest bookstore is 45 miles away from my home and it is a Books-A-Million. If I had a local bookstore near my town, I’d be their most loyal customer, but I don’t. So, I use Amazon and sometimes, AbeBooks, to order the hard to find titles I like. I refuse to use a kindle or any sort of eReader. Just give me an old, hard-backed book bearing the aroma of a musty old library in its pages. I enjoy the convenience of mp3’s when it comes to music, but I like the physical sensation of CD’s and records. Something of the creative process is lost without album covers, sleeves, and liner notes.
Where do I begin with smartphones? Useful tool. Absolutely. They give a parent a great sense of security. Looking back now, I can think of times, almost every day, when my parents had no idea where I was as I roamed the woods, rode bicycles, or played in the creek. As a 21st Century parent, I have to admit that it horrifies me to think of not knowing where my children are. I love having a stereo and a camera in my pocket all the time. Smartphones make my job easier. I can take calls, texts, or check email from almost anywhere. I like having the ability to pull up the weather at the farm from the other side of the world. Cell phones have saved lives. But, I still remember the freedom of the 20th century when you weren’t expected to be available to everyone twenty-four hours a day and I think life was probably better that way.
I pay more attention to the changing of the seasons, the migration of birds, rainfall, droughts, the developmental stages of crops, the clarity and height of streams and rivers than I do the stock market or politics. I am more interested in life than markets. It’s one reason I possess so little financial wealth. But, I still have my health as far as I know, and so, I like to walk the orchard, tree to tree on foot in the open air as opposed to riding in some mechanized buggy. I like to plant little bare-root grafted sticks and watch them grow into producing trees with the gravitas to affect the soil, vegetation, and animal life around them. This sort of thing satisfies me and here’s why:
Walk across an open field. Around here, it could be cotton, peanuts, corn, wheat, soybeans, sorghum, or watermelon. By the time you’ve walked 50 yards, the field has become monotonous. The plants are uniformly the same. A sea of one species as far as the eye can see with virtually no change in the landscape. Now, plant that field in trees, wait a few years, and take the same walk. The landscape has changed from a field-some would say a factory-to a place. You can more easily discern the rise and fall of the land. You notice the architecture and character of individual trees, the way the play of light and shade upon the ground in different spots shapes what grows there and how these things in turn, influence the animal life found there. The orchard or forest has changed the landscape to one of human scale. There is magic and beauty in that.
There’s always been a little give and take between the old and new worlds. The new world; however, is growing increasingly artificial and in the future, I fear it will be inclined toward less give and more take. That bothers me. Perhaps the most egregious example of this is the development of artificial intelligence.
I am sure there are positive aspects to a.i., specifically with regard to medical diagnosis, procedures, and breakthroughs. A.I. may even present some benefits as well for the old world governed by mother nature, but my biggest problem with a.i. is that this technology further separates us not only from mother nature, but from our own human nature, and in many ways, it uses our human nature against us. Most A.I. operates based on information it finds on the internet. As such, not only does it operate largely based on generalities lacking in the nuance of a living world, but it contains the darker angels of our nature. As I heard it referred to once by someone working in the A.I. field, “We are inviting it into the campfire”. Once in, it can easily learn to manipulate us. Look no further than social media for proof of this.
All it would really take for A.I. to go haywire, would be one bad actor who prods it in the wrong direction. A mad scientist, a government, a dictator, a unabomber-like hermit, a disgruntled high school kid. The only thing predictable about people is that we are unpredictable. Even its most optimistic proponents give artificial intelligence a 2% chance of ending the human species. Others say its as high as 50/50. I can’t see a single benefit that makes it worth that risk, even at 2%. But, no one is asking me.
One of the biggest arguments in favor of A.I., is that it will make our lives so much easier. But, look around. Too much leisure is already killing us here in the new world. The disdain for work in our society has led us down a path of lost purpose and disillusionment. We aren’t evolutionarily created for an easy life. It is maladaptive. We’ve already gorged ourselves on junk food and become so sedentary that the incidence of diseases associated with this behavior are at an all-time high.
I was once driving one of Georgia’s back roads following at some distance behind a truck hauling chickens from a poultry house. The road ahead of me was smeared with dead chickens fallen from their cages on the truck. White feathers floated through the air for miles. As they fell from the truck, they found their legs and wings were too atrophied from confinement to get themselves out of the road. And so, they were doomed as prey for some oncoming Kia Soul or Peterbilt.
Much like these chickens, our skills and capabilities atrophy as we cede them to machines. Why can people under the age of 30 no longer write in cursive? Do we really need to? Perhaps not. But it may be useful at some point. More alarmingly, we are losing the ability to think critically and creatively. Entire segments of the population can no longer even recognize the truth when they see it because already, the lines have become so blurred by social media, cable news, and grifters.
Many of us recognize a time in our lives when its just easier and more comfortable to let technology and even popular culture, just pass us by. We find a level of it that we are comfortable and satisfied with in our daily lives and just stop. I think I’ve reached that point. I can remember hooking up my grandparents cable TV and VCR because to them, it seemed too complicated. They marveled at the ability of children to operate computers in the late 1980’s and early 1990’s. Now my own children have to program my “smart tv” and subscription services via their cell phones. My brain has no more capacity for yet another userID or password. Beyond that, I just don’t see much in an increasingly technological and artificial future that interests me. I think that even moreso now than in the past, I’d just prefer to focus on the elemental world that exists despite and alongside our kind. I’d like to more fully explore my place in all that. I’m sure most people will disagree with me on much of this, but then, as Aldo Leopold once wrote, “Non-conformity is the highest evolutionary attainment of social animals.”
Creatures like the barn fox take it all in stride. He and his fellow varmints are a reminder for me to do the same. Part of that adaptation by the barn fox is a willingness to be mobile, a fluidity that allows him to move through the landscape quietly, efficiently, meeting the needs of the day. Wherever he needs to be, whatever he needs to do to get by, survive, thrive, and persist in his world, comes naturally to him. He adapts. But, surely there is a limit.
I envy the Barn Fox. Sometimes I feel more capable of dealing with the challenges he faces than those of the human species. The artificial side of the new world is growing. The real question becomes, how do we maintain a balance between both worlds -the old and new-and still live a rich and fulfilling life? The answer, for me, is to lean heavily on the foot planted in the old world. The convenience of our time is nice, but perhaps it’s too nice. It’s enough for me to simply live tied to the land, raise a family, and take care of a place.
Thoughts From The Orchard 