Insecticide for bark beetles more harmful than helpful

*Published in the Denver Post newspaper April 1, 2012

Beetle kill is real. My fear of losing  majestic pine trees around our neighborhood and in our yard is palpable. Witnessing the loss of seven big trees on a tiny lot upon which our mountain cabin stood in Idyllwild, California, in 2004, left me with something akin to post trauma stress. Watching tree removal workers, who happened to be prisoners trained and supervised by the California state prison system,  scale, section and drop to the ground seventy-five-year-old trees surrounding our cabin remains etched in my memory as a nightmare does.

Following too many years of drought, California’s forests were decimated by bark beetles beginning around 2000, including the San Jacinto Forest where the tiny hamlet of Idyllwild lays. Because the devastation was widespread, talk of bark beetles infiltrated daily conversations among virtually all residents of Southern California for years.

In 2005, we relocated to Douglas County, Colorado. News of  beetles sucking the lifeblood of millions of acres of pine forests vampire-fashion was soon on the lips of everyone we met. In flashback style, I began to envision the home we had just purchased in Castle Pines Village being stripped of its giant trees, some 150 years old by estimates of local arborists, the way our little cabin in the San Jacinto Forest had been.  This worry keeps me awake nights.

Beyond hand-wringing, what can we do to save our trees? The short answer:  Not much.

The ravaging of our forests from coast to coast by beetles is a natural event. Extended drought leaves pine trees in distress and vulnerable to beetle occupation. Also, man has contributed to an overpopulation of pine trees standing much too close together, an overcrowding that offers up easy smorgasbord for insects. Widespread prevention of natural forest burning has contributed to this bug epidemic, as well. One thing I now know.  Nature is going to thin the forests, one way or another.

While still residing in SoCal, the hot topic was often spraying insecticide on the trees, which was commonly discounted by experts and laypeople.  The reasoning was that insecticides would have to saturate every surface inch of a vulnerable tree, and remain in place after even the heaviest of rains, to keep hungry beetles out. Certainly, once beetles were under the bark, no amount of surface spraying would make one whit of difference to the fate of the tree. Environmentalist warned of ground water contamination and death to beneficial insects, primarily bees, due to the spraying of the poisons.

This week we received in the mail a news bulletin from the Castle Pines Homes Association concerning the protection of our trees from beetles. While most of the bulletin echoes others I have read from California to Colorado, one notable exception is that our homeowners’ association firmly recommends spraying.

I decided to research further since my knowledge concerning bark beetles comes from another forest and another time. Perhaps experts have new recommendations. In my search for unbiased, independent opinion regarding using insecticides on trees for the purpose of  prevention of beetle attack, I came upon several sources. 

Thousands of news stories can be accessed regarding beetle kill, which has swept the nation the past decade.  Countless websites of government entities from municipal to federal levels offer up information. The two best sources I located relevant to our local interests are the City of Cheyenne, Wyoming, and our own Colorado State University Cooperative Extension Offices. These sources explain matters best, have nothing to sell consumers, and offer up simple preventative tips to help ensure healthy forests, such as keeping trees watered during dry spells, voluntarily thinning your pine tree population, prompt removal of trees known to be infested, and keeping close watch for signs a tree is in distress.

I believe the fate of my own trees and the trees across our state is in the hands of Mother Nature at this point, and always. Though doing something often feels better than doing nothing, in the case of war with pine beetles, I believe spraying pine trees with insecticides causes more harm than benefit.  After weighing the facts,  I won’t be spraying insecticide on my pine trees.

Family phone list reminds us relationships change over time

Once every half dozen years or so exasperation drives me to organize and type a directory of frequently used phone numbers that I can tape to our refrigerator. Today was such a day.  I yanked down the old directory that had been a permanent refrigerator adornment since--oh, I cannot remember.  The scribbles, the crossings out, the additions and deletions had rendered it no longer decipherable.

There is nothing like an old address book or phone list to remind us of the fluidity of relationships. While most people whose numbers warranted posting on our refrigerator a few years ago have remained put, some have not.  A few moved. A few fell out of contact. Two have died.

I took the time spent reconstructing our family phone directory to reflect.  Not only did I consider the reasons some contacts no longer need posting, I considered how new contacts had emerged.  Why do people come and go in our lives?

Deleting contact information for a beloved uncle who passed away a couple of years ago brought tears.  This man, the brother of my late father, was the last living connection to a generation on one side of my family. Chances are forever gone to chat with him about his growing up years as my father’s younger brother in rural Tennessee.  Firsthand accounts of their meager existence during the Great Depression will never again come my way. Why didn’t I listen better?

Removed from our list of regular contacts is a wonderful man and father who lived only a few houses away. He died tragically a few years ago, leaving his wife to raise their three children and leaving our neighborhood with a stark void.  We came to adore this man. We miss him still.

With a heavy heart, I left out contact information for a family member with whom I was once close. I am sad and ashamed to admit that at the core of this removal was a dispute over money. Tempers flared over perceived injustices a few years ago and harsh words sealed  the fate of  a relationship broken.

Neighbors moved out over the years and new ones moved in. Among the new people  great friends have emerged. I added them to our regular list of contacts with gratitude.

Gone are a handful of my sons’ friends, not through moving, but through moving on.  My sons are now teens and their sets of close friends bear little resemblance to the sets of friends they had just a few years ago.  Children mature and their interests change, and with them taste in friends.  I smiled as I added new names.

The fresh, neat, new list hangs on the side of our refrigerator this morning. I peruse the names and cannot imagine that any will ever drop from the list .  But, if the list I just threw away is a reliable historical reference, I know they will.

New hit game by Xbox Live: Immortal Recurring Charges

When my older son, age 16, asked for my credit card number earlier in the year to pay for a thirty-day Microsoft Xbox Live subscription, I gave it to him. He is a responsible kid who can be expected to understand the fine print.

“How much will be charged to my credit card?”

“$9.99.”

“Okay. $9.99. That’s it?”

“That’s it. I promise.”

“I had better not see add-ons. No games. No extended subscriptions!”

Charges started to show up on my credit card statement at once. There was the expected $9.99. There were also several unexpected charges of $4.99. I grilled both sons about these unexpected charges and both looked genuinely perplexed. I let it go, comfortable in the knowledge that my older son had only purchased a one-month subscription.

The next month’s credit card statement arrived with another charge of $9.99, several of the $4.99 and a brazen charge of $21.99. No longer in the mood to be a good sport, I gathered the troops and demanded to know how these charges were accruing. Again, both sons denied all knowledge.

I called my credit card company to dispute the unauthorized charges. The customer service representative at my credit card company was entirely sympathetic and expressed familiarity with the problem. She would handle my dispute, but advised me to call Microsoft Xbox Live, also, which I did.

When you call Microsoft Xbox Live, they tell you right up front you are going to wait a long, long time. The cheery automated voice advises you to take care of all service issues at the website. But, beware. If you hang up and go to the website, you will be advised there that you must place a phone call.

I spent the better part of an evening getting to a living person. I was close to furious by the time he chirped, “May I help you?”

I was told that policy at Microsoft Xbox Live prevents refunds. I advised him that my policy was to object to credit card theft, especially if the credit card is mine, but he was unmoved. He did swear, however, on all that is holy to mark the account my sons had set up as “no renewal“, thereby stopping all charges similar to those that he claimed my sons had accrued ordering services and playing games.

The chirpy customer service representative lied. Though one month’s statement showed no Microsoft Xbox Live charges, the following month the charges resumed. I put in more time on the phone insisting (with a bit more fervor) that Microsoft Xbox Live remove my credit card information from their files. This time, when I asked what it would take to promise beyond the shadow of a doubt that I would never again see charges, the representative said only deleting the account could do that, which he did.

Now I wait and watch. I also investigate Microsoft Xbox Live. Predictably, dozens of websites offer information about the problems with unauthorized credit card charges by Microsoft Xbox Live and, predictably, pending class action suits. Eventually, refunds might arrive. Meanwhile, I try to imagine how much Microsoft Xbox Live charges without authorization to parents’ credit cards on any give day, but the dollar amount surely boggles the mind.

Do-it-yourself drain care not for the faint of heart

I noticed recently that water was draining more and more slowly from our bathtub. I first thought this was a call for a highly corrosive, hydrochloric acid-based drain blaster, the ones that we all know to keep away from our eyes and all living things. But, since purchasing such an environmentally unfriendly product kept slipping my mind, I decided to unscrew the affixed tub plug and have a look down the drain. I am not sure what I expected to find.

In the dark hollows of the drain pipe, I could see foamy blockage. Since I was unable to get a really good look beyond the opening, I decided to straighten a clothes hanger, fashion it into a hook and plunge, then pull; a fishing expedition or sorts. What I succeeded in catching haunts my dreams.

The homemade hook caught solidly right away on something in the recesses of the drain pipe, so solidly that it took all my strength to jerk the wire loose. When it finally came loose, attached to its end appeared to be a soggy dead rodent.

What I caught wasn’t a dead rodent. What I caught in my bathtub drain had to be a decade’s accumulation of scum, lint, sand, particles of stuff unknown and hair. Lots and lots of slimy hair.

We have only owned this house seven years, so I am extra repulsed knowing I wrestled hair clogs left by people who owned the house before us. Strangers. Strangers who moved back to Australia, I was told by neighbors, though it would not matter where they went. I regret having to handle their hair balls.

After plunging a few more times with the homemade hook, and retrieving several smaller relatives of the initial soggy rodent, I recovered emotionally as much as possible and moved on to Phase Two of my drain clearing mission. I chose a method I learned from my father. I boiled a ten gallon pot full of water and poured it all in. I then replaced the plug and tested drain efficiency by turning on the spigot. The water raced away.

My deceased father, Bill Curle, was an innovative man. He designed contraptions and work-saving systems for fun. When I was a child, he routinely cleared our home drains by pouring the biggest pots of boiling water into them. This was a surefire method, he always boasted, of dissolving all that he said clogged drains most, such as soapy residue and oils from our skin. While his boiling water method seemed to keep our drains perky during my childhood, I do not recall my squeamish father getting to the real root of the drain problem as I did. I think he would be proud.

A generational tendency to take care of sluggish drains lives on, I suppose. I like to think of myself as innovative in the way my father was. I also like to think that a bent coat hanger and boiling water do not tax our environment the way corrosive drain cleaners do. Further, I believe that, just once in a while, we all need to be really grossed out. To that end, I share my story, complete with photos.

Rating students would create successful classroom mix

Substitute teaching is a recent addition to my long list of work experiences. Serving as an on-call educator for all grade levels in a public school district of a major city has been my own public education. Being a substitute teacher, with its rewards and pitfalls, has allowed me a firsthand look at classroom dynamics at all grade levels. What I now know about the challenges teachers face humbles me.

In any field, those who spend extended time are prone to a form of nearsightedness; the inability to see the forest for the trees. I know from my experiences in other industries that over time minds can become less porous, more resistant to new industry ideas. Sometimes a newcomer brings fresh perspective.

It would be easy at this point to join the current chorus and deem public education in the United States miserably broken. But, no. I am not educated enough or experienced enough to deem public education anything at all. Beyond my lack of qualifications, I lack the desire to castigate those who, I now know, care very much and try their damnedest to work within a system that bears little resemblance to modern day models of business success.

While many things about public education must be considered in brand new ways, from teacher training to teacher recruitment to teacher compensation, my fresh perspective tells me that students, too, must be considered in brand new ways if a successful, modern model for public education is ever to exist.

Students are not all alike. The teacher in Class A with twenty-five students and the teacher in Class B with twenty-five students do not, let me repeat, do not bear identical workloads because their student mixes are not identical. The expectation that the two teachers will take their identical headcounts to identical benchmarks of achievement is fallacy. Once this truth is embraced, the sacrosanct “teacher to student ratio” can be redefined and improved for the benefit of all.

I propose a system of categorizing students by demand units based on individual needs using a scale of one to five, with a rating of one-demand-unit being a student with a learning style that requires very little of a teacher’s energy and a rating of five-demand-units being a student requiring rigorous teacher management. Distribution of students by this rating system would result in classroom equity. While each teacher might be assigned thirty student units, that could mean thirty Category 1 students, or six Category 5 students, or any combination between.

Rating mainstream students based on needs would be new educational terrain. Supreme care would have to be taken to prevent judgments based on student ratings. The introduction of such a system to parents, educators and students would have to include promotion of the ratings as being merely an assessment of learning styles, no more judgmental than a personality quiz or career test. Category 1 students could not be held up as preferred, nor Category 5 students as problems in the classroom. Category 5 students, those talkative students who ask more questions and move about the room more, must be allowed pride in being assessed highly interactive. Steadfast Category 1 students should take pride, too, in their needs for more calm and solitude in a learning setting.

While my experiences are limited, I believe too many classrooms have too many Category 5 students and too many Category 1 students are overwhelmed. While most students are Categories 2 through 4, I feel certain that Category 1 students could thrive among dozens of students who share their learning styles and Category 5 students would do well together in smaller groups. The limits to human energy and time in a school day prohibit a teacher’s effectively advancing an improper mix of students.

Rate our students according to learning styles and watch test scores rise. Watch student and faculty satisfaction increase. Watch good teachers become great.

Tim Tebow, Joel Osteen and colliding Christian principles

I was once very involved in the Christian faith. Having been born into families of practicing Baptists and Methodists, Christianity was as much a part of my life, and the lives of almost all those I knew, as air. In other words, church was part of daily existence that was not questioned. Habits were handed down. Church was our way.

Today, I am far removed from the region of my childhood and those early church routines. I cannot call myself a good Christian. Maybe I never could. I have not raised my sons in the habits of the church.  Few people with whom I associate adhere to the Christian faith as demonstrated for me as a child.

Broncos quarterback Tim Tebow has caused discussion regarding Christianity to move into the forefront of millions of lives. People who might never have given religion a thought cannot now escape its display. Love it or hate it, Tim Tebow has shown the world what a good Christian is supposed to look like.

My early affiliation with Christianity might play a role in my opinions regarding Tim Tebow. I would admire him anyway for his backbone. I would admire him anyway for his willingness to take abuse from the press. I would applaud him anyway for commitment to personal principles in places personal principles are known to be scant. I admire him and applaud him more, perhaps, because he sets the example Jesus, as Jesus is presented in Christian doctrine, would surely approve.

My favorite public Christian is Joel Osteen, leader of Joel Osteen Ministries, a mega-church in Houston. He is a superstar among Christian ministers and a terrific speaker. I find his sermons compelling and refreshing. Not since I watched Billy Graham on television as a child have I felt such deep admiration for a Christian speaker.

Joel Osteen has been careful to avoid hot topics that divide people, particularly homosexuality. While, admittedly, he could be riding that fence for business reasons, I happen to believe he avoids the subject of same-gender relationships and marriages because he knows this topic is among those that have driven people in droves from Christianity. His success depends on bringing people to the faith rather than alienating.

Oprah Winfrey will have none of the fence-riding. Recently on her show, she pressed guest Joel Osteen regarding his views exactly on homosexuality. In a flourish of obvious reluctance, Joel Osteen did not refute what he claims is presented in the Bible. Joel Osteen said homosexuality is a sin. His furious back-peddling that ensued could not un-ring that bell.

I should not be surprised by Joel Osteen’s declaration when backed into a corner on public television by Oprah Winfrey. His declaration, however, stings. Watching him, my childhood religion bled from me hemorrhagic fashion. I grieve the loss.

Tim Tebow, in all his righteousness, has done more to polish the public image of Christianity than all who might have tried the past half century. But, at the end of the day, Tim Tebow, Joel Osteen and countless others flying the banner of  Christianity must agree that the faith upholds a doctrine of exclusion, and I find that a sorrowful shame.

We'll show you our Castle Rock if you show us your Lone Tree

I like living in Castle Rock, Colorado, a community with rock solid identity. Not that our rock in any way resembles a castle. It more closely resembles a baked potato. But, Spud Rock lacks a certain respectability, and with Ship Rock already taken, someone along the way looked up and deemed our looming piece of granite a castle rock. Maybe it was a drunken patron leaving one of the bars along Perry Street long ago.

Regardless, we can proudly point out our community identity to all newcomers and visitors. We can touch it, climb it, picnic around it. We stand in front of it and take pictures. It shows up in countless advertisements, on official documents and in local calendars. Our kids in grade school can draw it. It is our very own shared talisman.

In contrast, no one who lives in neighboring Lone Tree seems to knows anything at all about the actual tree. I don’t see the tree decorated for the holidays. I don’t see a park around it or even a placard in front of it. Maybe the tree died or someone accidentally used it for firewood somewhere along the way. Was it a pine tree? Was it an oak? When asked, residents of Lone Tree seem stumped.

“Your town is called Lone Tree. Is there an actual namesake tree?”

This question is invariably met with a look of befuddlement and a quick shrug. Nobody knows. Or, more likely, nobody cares. I cannot say I blame Lone Tree citizens for spending little time pondering the matter. I am sure people who live in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, care little about who so enjoyed playing the game that they named an entire town after it.

I visited the City of Lone Tree website (cityoflonetree.com) in search of information about the mythical solitary tree and found nothing. The city site features a history section with nary a mention of the tree. The site offers answers to dozens of FAQ’s. People who live in Lone Tree apparently ask a lot of questions, but “where is our tree?” does not appear among them.

If you head west on Titan Road off Highway 85, then turn north on Roxborough Park Road en route to Chatfield State Park, you will, after the turn, immediately see on your right an eye-catching, solitary tree in an expansive field of grass. I imagine such a single tree might have been spied by one of the founders of Lone Tree, Colorado, but who now knows? Since the truth has been lost, I propose the tree near Chatfield State Park serve as a substitute lone tree for Lone Treeians suffering landmark envy, though the solitary tree lies in Littleton.

Littleton. Little town? Was it founded by someone named Little? Or, was the original settlement tiny and, if so, where is the small settlement that grew big but kept the name?

Porcupine takes up residence in our yard

After nearly seven years in this neighborhood, I keep thinking I have seen it all in the way of wildlife. Not so. We have a new guest or, we are hoping, resident in our yard here in Castle Pines Village. Yet another amazing Colorado creature has shown itself .

In early December my husband, Kevin, called my cell one morning after I had left the house to tell me a giant porcupine was sauntering across our driveway. Before he could gather his thoughts and a camera, the big, bulky creature retreated to his hideout--a culvert that runs underneath our street on the south side of our yard.

Our street is not more than 100 yards east of a dedicated wildlife corridor along Daniels Park Road here in Douglas County. This zone of protection is what facilitates visits, I think, from fellow world travelers--elk, bobcats, deer, foxes, wild turkeys, owls, bears, coyotes, occasional mountain lions and a wide variety of smaller creatures such as snakes, salamanders, rabbits, colorful birds, voles and field mice. Our yard offers its very own animal kingdom.

In researching porcupines, I learned that they are among Colorado rodent natives and can weigh up to thirty-five pounds, second in size only to beaver. Their approximately 30,000 quills, and their abilities to puff them out when threatened, create a somewhat deceptive appearance size-wise.

Porcupines are mostly nocturnal. Their only significant predators in this region are humans because only vehicles and guns can take them down. They have a vicious manner of self defense. Foolish creatures, such as dogs and humans, get too close to porcupines and pay the price. Porcupine quills, slapped into intruders with thick, powerful tails, are needle sharp and barbed. Once they pierce flesh, removal is tortuous.

In warm months, these waddling herbivores munch clover and a variety of plants. In winter, they gnaw bark and twigs. They use their long claws to scale to the tops of trees where they disappear among foliage, relax and chew. They are also drawn to salt, which is why many porcupines spotted in the open are dead on the road in states that use salt to diffuse snow and ice.

For weeks, the story of the porcupine living in the culvert beside our house seemed a possible hoax. Only my husband, one son and a friend across the street claimed to have seen the thing they described as “a slow moving boulder”. My younger son and I were skeptics until last night when my husband came in and alerted us to look out the window. There was Culvert (as our new guest has been tagged), making his way up a huge pine tree right outside our window. He scaled to near the top, made himself comfortable among the branches and became part of the tree to the human eye.

We like Culvert and want him to stay. He is quite shy and seems to enjoy the privacy of the long, dark tunnel under our street. The last thing I want to do is blow our friend’s cover. No paparazzi, please.