This story has bothered me for several months now.
Every time I think about taking a pass on my walk, I think about this unfortunate sperm whale. And the unfortunate whales that came before it. It prods me to put on my shoes, grab a bag and head out the door.
The dead whale washed up in Spain. A necropsy found about 40 pounds of plastic in its gut. The man-made plastic sheeting and other floatable plastics had blocked its intestines, killing it in what had to be an excruciatingly painful, wretched death.
I don’t know if any of the plastic originated from my Sharon View to Colony to Fairview Road to Sharon Road loop in south Charlotte. But drainage from the watershed here leads inexplicably to the Atlantic. Plastic floats and if unchecked, can ultimately find its way to the sea.
And it’s not just whales that are victimized: sea turtles, birds and fish all are misled by this plastic smorgasbord.
So it’s about 8:30 on Christmas morning. My walk in the 21F temperatures is done. The Harris Teeter bag is full of the things that could take the life of the earth’s largest remaining creatures. As I picked up what idiots tossed away, I thought again about these whales.