"DEAR ED" - THOUGHTS BY BRISTLEHEAD

MAILBOXES

Dear Ed,
Now that the leaves have fallen, animals in the barn, wood in the shed, the thoughts of all of us out in the countryside turn to one thing ... mail boxes! A sure sign that winter approaches is found in the activity at lane's end as we frantically prepare for the attack of the most dangerous of winter beasts, the snow plow. Amateur psychologists (are there professionals?) can seize the opportunity to discover their neighbour's attitude to life. There is the defensive type, frantically applying florescent tape and painting the box bright yellow - or the traditional bright orange in Jessopville. The cynics among us ask: "Why give the plow driver a better target?"
Life's innovator rises to the challenge by devising a "plow proof" installation. This foolish crowd splits into two basic types. The first are mechanical engineers who hang the box on the end of a cantilevered structure of pipe and wire. These are designed to swing out of the way when hit. Of course this leads to a contest among the drivers to see who can spin the thing all the way around. The second type is the ballistics expert who mounts the box upon a pole in a pail of dirt, designed to be thrown clear by the blade. First prize goes to the driver who wings it over the line fence with the most damage.
Our aggressive type wants to get even, erroneously believing that the plow can be taught a lesson. The less subtle of these spend much of their time trying to convince the Township that a two ton bolder is the ideal mail box post. More clever ones present devices such as welded four inch chain mounted in concrete. Supposedly decorative, this artifact is really designed to wrap around the wing and rip it off the truck. Skilled drivers can wing the box off the top without touching the first link.
Lastly, and sadly, there is the resigned pessimist who believes there is no hope. We sport battered boxes recovered from the dump, nailed onto an old post that's too short for any good use. We just hope it doesn't get hit with the milk cheque inside.
By the way, what will this winter be like? I saw our snowplow driver down at the hockey game the other day. He was sporting a maniacal grin. We are in for lots of snow.

BIRDS OF A POLITICAL FEATHER

Dear Ed,
Just returned from a walk up the old rail line and I wanted to send you some thoughts. It was one of those typical November days that we have been having this December. The sky was slightly overcast, the ground misty so you couldn’t really see anything clearly and would have trouble knowing what was going on.
I was about a kilometer out of town, having made the top of the hill, up above old Frank’s corn field, when I heard the clatter of geese down the slope. Climbing up the railway embankment, I was rewarded with a big gaggle of fat old Canada geese. Well, I sat down to watch them for a bit. As you know, things are slow in Shelburne so we need our entertainment where we can get it. Sitting there watching these birds, I was reminded of Canadian politics. No I wasn’t packing any Creemore Lager or or smoking any of Charlie's "corn" crop. It was just my usual sharp mind at work!
Firstly, the geese were getting fat on someone else’s corn. Then they all lumbered into the air and made a big flashy sweep around the field, jostling for position and all trying to be next to the leader. This went on until what looked like the second in command whipped them all into line. I noticed that all of them were making noise except the leader. They took off south, as if the USA was all that was on their little minds. Sure seemed like the Liberal Party to me!
All this was just beginning to sink in when I saw that a bunch of ducks were left behind on the field. Suddenly they took off as if they had just realized that the geese had gotten ahead of them. They were the most disorganized bunch you would ever want to see. The leader seemed to fly this way and that, dipping and climbing and floundering. As well, several others seemed to be trying to lead too. All of them were quacking and making a horrible racket, all out of synchronization. Suddenly the leader let out some high pitched squawking and they headed west. I guess that is familiar territory to them. Sure seemed like Reform to me!
Well, I had just barely begun walking further up the line, when a flock of grackles came out of nowhere. Now here was discipline! They made one solid, if somewhat scruffy flock, always moving in unison and not making any sounds that made sense. As far as I could tell there was no visible leader and they all seemed uncomfortable, as if they had overstayed their welcome and should have headed home long ago. Sure reminded me of the Bloc Quebecois!
I never did notice where they went.
Later a couple of stray seagulls came over, squawking at each other. Dipping and soaring and wandering around, they just seemed to be looking for some direction and maybe the rest of the flock. They made a dive bombing run at me but fortunately missed their mark. Unfortunately, even though they weren’t wanted, they just kept hanging around. Sure reminded me of the Tories!
Well it was getting dark and I headed home. Just as I was coming through the pines, down to the ball diamond, a family of night owls spooked out of the dead grass right beside me. They looked like they needed a square meal. Just typical of these things. You hardly ever see them and when they do make an appearance they scare the hell out of you. I thought of the NDP immediately!
Never did see anything that resembled the Senate, but then that place is more like a chicken coop at midnight anyway.
I used to enjoy nature, but the wild just got a whole lot more scary. Now I am afraid to go down to the swamp behind George’s place. It reminds me of the Provincial Legislature.