O, Sweet Saint Of San Andreas – small dead animals

10 Replies to “O, Sweet Saint Of San Andreas”

Liberals wallowing in feces and loving it, nothing new there.

I am a snowbird who spends the winters in Arizona. The golf course here gets polluted with Coots and Widgets and there is bird crap everywhere. The golf course can’t get rid of these birds because they are protected. Our shoes and golf balls and wheels of our push carts are always covered in slimy green Coot crap. Does that make any sense? Birds carry a lot of disease but like this article states there is no common sense . I am sure there is a worldwide shortage of Coots . We call them Mudhens in Canada.

I am reminded of any early morning walk through the downtown city park in Kelowna, BC — before the city’s “Goose Patrol” arrives to clean up the green slime blanketing the park, courtesy of the Canada geese who make it their part of their flight path.
Sooner or later the leftists of California will deal with this issue, but never by examining the fundamental flaws of their policy-making. Rather, as they have done with Obamacare, they will make exceptions, abuse their own processes, and try to patch and fix the lemon they have manufactured.

I’ve experienced that stench twice – once in 91 and again in 2010. Its just plain awful. Not nearly as awful though as the wildly expensive art they try to sell in all those swanky La Jolla galleries.

The bottom has fallen out of the guano market, with Hussein Obama in the White House.

That’s nothing. The Ontario Government says you can’t do anything about huge flocks of geese that are crapping directly into municipal water reservoirs.
Just quadruple up on the chlorine.

Spent a few delightful days there recently on a motorcycle ride.
There’s a children’s swimming pool there, set up by a wealthy benefactor, which has been given up to the sea lions. No more swimming.
It was felt to be ecologically sinful to discourage the sea lions; to coax them off to some other locale.
At one point, I was down on the sand taking pix and a loud butchy lady (sic) started screaming at me.
I couldn’t get the drift of her communication so a kindly retiree, a weekend volunteer who was cleaning the area, ambled over to explain and apologize for the madness, and to encourage me to continue until I had the shots I wanted. He realized that I wasn’t causing any lasting ecological damage and that the sea lions were relaxed about my insensitive intrusion.