Fast food plastic is nuts.

My garden has begun to bear fruit and I have taken on the persona of Elmer Fudd, haplessly trying to detour the wildlife from the great buffet. I don’t have a bounty. The squirrels, rabbits and birds have seen to that. I’ve been able to eek out a few salads and have more spring onions than a family of fifteen (humans) could hope to eat. The plan is to pick a slew of tomatoes soon. Presently they are immature, green and hard. The varmints are licking their chops waiting for the first blush of ripeness. I’ll outsmart them, somehow.

I see rabbits every day. Today, during my run, I counted 14, which is about average for the spring.
On Sunday Ed and I sat and watched a desert ground squirrel chowing down seed pods in the Palo Verde tree across the street. He was fat. I imagine he had visited my garden often to eat walnut-sized cantaloupes I had high hopes for. The birds are ravenous, too. A coyote sauntered down the street probably looking for that fat squirrel. But my garden’s organic fare is not the only human food these critters enjoy.

It’s fairly common to see a bag from a fast food restaurant broken open and strewn around the street as if it escaped from a car window to avoid being eaten by humans only to fall into the jaws of the wild animals. French fries are often fought over by crows who cleverly drag the litter out of the traffic lane so they can eat in peace. Burgers are scavenged by every type of rodent, but a coyote will easily win a prized bite simply by loping along and being at the top of the food chain. Animals find a way to rip open the catchup packets, knowing there is something inside. Even the paper is eventually whisked away to line nests. The plastic cups, lids and boxes are the only long-lived litter. It becomes packed into the dirt, embedded in mesquite, captured by cacti, or worse, mistaken by animals as food.

I taught a class this weekend and a student thoughtfully bought me lunch. She sent Ed back with a soda, sandwich and chips. I found myself with a 20 ounce plastic cup, a plastic lid, a plastic straw and two plastic bags, one for chips and one to carry the meal. As I sat eating the Subway veggie sandwich I realized, when compared to most fast food lunches, it probably had much less plastic waste than is typical. Although I was grateful, I could not help but think what a waste of resources it was for a simple meal. I pulled the sandwich from its bag, unwrapped the paper, emptied the chips on the paper, and sipped the soda while thinking the bags, cup, lid and straw would go to a landfill unless I took them home for recycling. Indignant I thought, “This is nuts! What a waste!”

Then I picked up a chip. I love chips. I held it before my lips like a communion wafer. My mouth watered, and I started rationalizing the need for a proper plastic bag for such a delight. A chip must be protected with a bit of salty air so it could not be crushed during transport and a sturdy plastic bag should give them a long shelf-life that keeps them crisp. I crushed it with my teeth. Yum. The salt, mmmm. Chips, I love chips!

You see, tempted by a delicious tidbit I’m not unlike that fat squirrel — I simply go nuts.

During May I guestimate I reduced a whopping pound of plastic consumption — in spite of my chip weakness but including my painted shoes. (See Making Do with What is on Hand post)

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