Monday was spent, much as Sunday, on the back of the old Kubota as spring clean-up time is here. The brush has been beaten back by Winter and it’s easier now before the creatures come out in Spring.
For those who have never lived on a large piece of land, keeping it up involves a tremendous amount of work and no small measure of diesel. So far, about 10-gallons into what will be a 20-gallon project, about half of the open part of Uretopia Ranch is looking very much like a state park. Or will when the tractorfying is done.
There is a lot to go, yet. And the “burn pile” is still smoldering after three days of fire. It is astounding how much wood comes down as “deadfall” around here. Plus, this year we had three old trees, perhaps late victims of our drought several years back, that needed to come down.
The test is simple: I put the tractor in compound four-wheel low and smash into it with the loader bucket at about 7-feet off the ground. If it survives 3-4 whacks, then I figure the tree remains are good for another year and not likely to come crashing down on us. But this year, we had some trees that we’re up to tractor abuse. I look at the process as training sessions for an auto accident.
Broinlaw Panama and I hold differing views on old trees. He’s a fan of leaving them for the wildlife. That’s fine, if the residents were restricted to some neat bird species, but once they fall, things like snakes winter-over in them. And to my way of thinking, the fewer dead trees within 500-feet of the house, the lower the odds of snakes.
With the brush slicked off, the hawks and vultures can see anything heading for the house and do their jobs.
Every year about this time, I get started on the project. It’s time and diesel and while the diesel prices are nice, the time is a real pain. And that’s our jumping-off point for this morning’s discussion.
It’s about our shrinking future.
I sometimes think farmers may be the most intelligent people in the world because there is not a lot of interruption when working the land. Uninterrupted thinking time abounds. I spent the tractor-back time working out the next Peoplenomics report. It will cover seven essential skills for the future.
I wanted to get you started thinking about this today with a few reflections on space – the kind of square footage that makes life good. How much is enough?
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To begin with, there is a simple calculation we can do to begin “bounding” the problem of so many people but only this much land.
We look up the amount of land on the planet and divide among the number of people.
A quick Google (because my calculator and I aren’t on good terms until 10 AM, or so) and we find this:
The total land surface area of Earth is about 57,308,738 square miles, of which about 33% is desert and about 24% is mountainous. Subtracting this uninhabitable 57% (32,665,981 mi2) from the total land area leaves 24,642,757 square miles or 15.77 billion acres of habitable land.
Since we know that there are about 7-billion people in the world, we can guestimate that each human has (in theory) a little over 2-acres per person.
If we were alert enough to remember there are 640-acres per square mile, this would mean averaged out, about 300-people per square mile would be a reasonable shot from the hip. You take the arid Nevada country east of Reno which is technically habitable; we’ll stick with the 90-foot pines and 60-odd inches of rain in East Texas, thanks.
Of course, even the land mentioned by the cite is not all useful. A lot of it depends on whether the land gets enough rainfall. A lot of land up in Nebraska or the back-side of the Rockies is pretty dry and not exactly warm and inviting. Not desert, but not fun. Even for those of us with modest means an only a single-engine, this is fly-over country.
That’s why although Tornado Alley has a bad rap in terms of mobile homes being blown around, it also is generally where there’s enough rain to where a family could make a stab as living off the land. They did…and then came Phillips and then came fracking, but another diversion from point.
East Texas, and the huge areas north of the Southern coastal states and south of the Appalachia and west farm lands, is really great property to hold. Although places like Mongolia have amazing grasslands, the climate is less friendly. And except for the mountains east of Salt Lake (the Wasatch) a whole bunch of Utah, Nevada, ands even Colorado and Wyoming is hard-living country.
Eastern Montana, the Dakotas, Wisconsin and Minnesota are pretty good, too. Except they have this beast called Winter up that way. Gentlemen don’t do winter.
The mind plays things back when your only job is to turn the tractor around and cut another swath and cast an occasional eye at the burn pile.
The haunting question always comes back to this: How much space does a human need to live an optimized life? And who is doing the optimizing?
The space question is pretty easy to answer. Prisons have that down to something of a science. A really minimalist lifestyle in a 6-foot by 8-foot cell can be done, especially if it comes with bedding and meals done elsewhere.
The interesting thing to note is that humans, like all animals, get to range. Even in prisons, inmates are usually allowed to move around a bit. The showers, the meal areas, the “day room” and so on. Plus a decent exercise yard,.
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