Government Doc: Minnesota Rules

I found a copy of the 2009 Minnesota Rules, a gargantuan, multi-volume book hosting it's own wall in the library. 


Guess what? There's a lot of rules. I searched through the index book to find the section about invasive species. Chapter 1505, in a heavy, red-bound book, hosted the information I was looking for. The amount of information in here is incredible. I'm sure it's not referenced much unless a legal case moves around these laws, or if a city legislator is drafting a new law and wants to keep their rules and regulations straight.


Here's what the table of contents looks like for Chapter 1505:

Item number 1505.1080 applies directly to my study. People in communities have concerns about the use and procedures when it comes to pesticides. Rachel Carson's Silent Spring told of many horror-story scenarios documenting the government's use of pesticides in the 1960s. In one story, a government agency was battling an invasive species in Michigan. The agency used planes to drop pellets of pesticide over neighborhoods and rural areas. The pellets were thick enough to look like a layer of snow on the ground. Shortly after, birds turned up dead in yards across the area. 


Of course, this is an extreme example from fifty years ago. Agencies (at least in Minnesota) have moved to a more biological mode of battling pests. There are tighter regulations on chemical use, especially near groundwater, and more agencies to provide oversight, such as the federal and local EPA.


Nevertheless, people still remained concerned about pesticide use. I'll share an example from my own experience. I worked at a large treecare company. They took great care with pesticide spraying and employee safety. I sprayed mostly crabapple trees, and the chemical kept a fungus at bay. After a while, I trained in a young man to do my job. We stood at the edge of the street, preparing 100 gallons of water and pesticide mix in the back tank of the spray truck. 


As the tank mixed, a woman come up from the sidewalk. She was elderly, maybe 65, short, with white curly hair. She called to me, "Hey! Hey!" her voice stern and her eyes narrowed. "I know what you're doing. I know what you're up to." She pointed her finger at my chest. "And I don't want you in my neighborhood. You come around here spraying chemicals, spraying death!" She was yelling now. She continued by telling us how her daughter died of cancer and she knew chemicals had something to do with it.


I wanted to respond somehow, to share a condolence, or reassure her we were meeting all EPA and MDA standards set for us. But I didn't. She turned and walked away. 


I didn't speak again for a while. I got back in the truck and we left for the next job. It all seemed like a movie script. The plot was getting slack, so a quick conflict was thrown in. I'll never forget that elderly women's passion and her sincerity. By all means, no EPA, MDA assurance will get that lady to accept her trees being sprayed.

Narrative: Needle in a Haystack

It's winter. The weather, usually bitter cold, has been pleasant, breaching the 40s and usually hovering above the freezing point during the day. I never remember a winter like this.

But we still took in the plants. We don't have many, just a few herbs, a tomato plant, a zygo cactus, an orchid, and a succulent. I guess that's more than most people! Ha!

Anyhow, we brought the plants in mid-December. By the time Christmas arrived we had fruit flies buzzing around our apartment. At first I thought it was from some bananas on the counter. But we kept the kitchen clean and they still continued their silent flight, irritating us by landing on computer screens, the TV, and, occasionally, showing up in a glass of water. It was gross.

When I bumped one of the plants, the fruit flies came swirling out. They were living in the plant soils! So I set all the plants out on the deck and sprayed them down with soapy water. Inside, I kept smacking them, clapping my hands in the air, following them around the wall and quickly squishing them, leaving a dark mark on the white paint.

I saw one in the office. To keep his options limited, I closed the door. Our office is small, and I tried to follow him with my eyes, but lost a few times due to his zany flight path. It took about five minutes, but I caught him against the window and made him pay. Soon victory was ours and we ceased find any fruit flies.

All this got me thinking about what a huge task the USDA and other government offices have. When a ground animal is on the loose, officers get the dogs out, load guns, track prints, and capture the beast. In the ocean, the task is more difficult. A shark or harmful animal may never be in the same place at the same time, so finding a shark that bit a person isn't likely. However, crocodiles and alligator have a better chance of being caught. As do snakes.

But when it comes to tracking an animal in the air, the difficulty increases immensely. The possibilities of travel are nearly endless. Of course, birds do migrate in patterns, and they are found by the most vigilant of bird watchers. But for birds, chances for escape are plenty. They can't be cornered if they are perched at the top of a white pine near the edge of a cliff.

Tracking and trapping a nuisance flock of birds (if there could be such a thing) would be challenging. But what if the birds were the size of a dime? And what if there were billions of them? And what if people also factored into the situation by moving their habitats across the country with the birdy babies inside? It's impossible.

What I realized is that figuring out the cause of our fruit fly problem was difficult. Then getting rid of the fruit flies from our apartment took time and persistence. But they were limited: to our apartment. What if there was no limit? How could humans stop an insect infestation? Is it even possible?

This just highlights the difficult task the USDA has in battling invasive species.

As I followed one around the office I left the herbs outside, since they seemed to be the worst.