The biggest mystery I’m working on solving is
finding out what exactly
happened to the animal wildlife in Tuxedo
We’ve lived in TP since 1992, and prior to that had spent a lot of
time there visiting my parents and friends who moved there after discovering
how beautiful it was.
One of the Park’s great glories was its wide and splendid assortment
of forest animals – gentle deer and opossums,
groundhogs, chipmunks, raccoon families, squirrels, wild
turkey hordes, black bears, abandoned and often feral cats (we adopted many of
them), and a vast array of other residents and transients.
They are all gone now.Our
visitors now are crows.
The “deer culling” programs of the past, which justifiably
caused loud local consternation and controversy, have clearly been replaced by something more sinister.
But what? Bins
of poisoned corn in the woods?
Tuxedo Park was once
a place absolutely teeming with animal life. Sighting
newborn fawn deer every late spring gladdened hearts and raised hope.
After a mile of winding and a thousand feet of elevation, the final curve gave out
onto a bowl the size of a deserted stadium.It was part natural, part blasted, hanging there in the
belly of giant peaks.The back walls of the bowl were sheer rock faces.There were semi-circular
holes blasted into them at intervals. They looked like giant mouse holes.Some of them had been built out with waste rock, to provide sheltered
entrances.Two of the entrances had been
enlarged into giant stone sheds, roofed with timber.
NOTE:Initially, Die Trying’s plot seems
but eventually the cynicism
about most human character
that undergirds it makes the
whole of the work actually seem as
naturalistic as Gilbert White’s writings
on Selborne.Combining elements of John Buchan’s chase, war and crime novels, especially, The
Dancing Floor, Mr Standfast and The Power House, Lee Child achieves something
quite original here.It is art
and therefore a lot
happier in the end than today’s (and yesterday’s and tomorrow’s) newspaper headlines, which are just creepy.