Fall is here. The mornings are turning chilly, and the days are getting shorter. I feel very fortunate that we live in the agricultural heart of California. We have some of the freshest crops available right here in our own back yard, and I mean fresh. The cornfields all around our marina are starting to turn yellow now… except for some isolated patches of green, that is.
Woke this morning to the thump, thump, thump, of a helicopter hovering overhead. But this was not your ordinary crop-dusting helicopter that we usually see flying around these parts. No, this bird was different. And the guys dressed head to toe in camouflage hanging out the side door… Well, let’s just say they’re not your typical farmers but they were certainly out working the fields early this morning.
After watching the tenth or eleventh bushel of ganja airlifted out of the cornfields, curiosity got the best of me and I just had to get a closer look. I grabbed Jeni’s camera with the long lens and hopped in the truck to see if I could get a little closer to the action. Driving up Jackson Slough Road I slowly passed by what looked to be about a dozen law enforcement officials from several different jurisdictions standing around a giant truck filled to the top with pot plants. US Forestry Service, California Dept. of Fish & Wildlife, and several unmarked SUV’s that I assume were DEA, along with a mobile re-fueling truck were parked around the chopper that was now on the ground taking on more gas. Being down wind of the spoils, it smelled as if someone had recently ran over a family of skunks. No doubt in my mind that this was some quality Kush.
After the ground crew topped up her fuel tanks, the helicopter dusted off toward the South. Five minutes later, back again for another drop with yet another monster bag of weed hanging from her belly. Two commando-type fellows on the ground unclipped the bag, and off she flew for another pick. Meanwhile, a big green truck with some sort of crane arm and claw attached was loading it into the back and mashing it down to make room for more.
At some point during my long distance observation of this well orchestrated operation I noticed one of the commando-types peering back at me through binoculars, so I decided it was probably time to head back to the boat and get some work done. Talking with Kurtis who works at our marina later this afternoon, I was informed that it was pretty much an annual occurrence around here this time of year, just like any other agricultural activity. Guys hide pot in the cornfields and the DEA comes in and cuts it down. But rarely do they get all of it. I guess if you plant enough, some of it is bound to slip through the cracks. The never-ending War on Drugs….