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Showing posts with label Oceans. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Oceans. Show all posts
Monday, 6 April 2015
Thursday, 12 September 2013
Newman is pressuring/pestering Abbott to give coal exports open slather on the Great Barrier Reef
From Denis at The Nature of Robertson:
This is not an annoying "we told you so" message.
Just read this and weep - for Queensland.
This is the real price of democracy.
Trouble is, it is all focussed on the Galilee Basin, which includes Bimblebox, and of course, the coal will have to be carted offshore via new coal ports, which means more traffic, more dredging in the Great barrier Reef, etc.
And as Brigid keeps telling me, Adani has a bad reputation for corruption in India. Why would they find themselves at home in Queensland?
Get out of our way on huge mines, Abbott told
http://www.smh.com.au/federal-Denis Wilson
"Always be Mindful of the Moment of Beauty"
"The Nature of Robertson"
www.peonyden.blogspot.com.au
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Wednesday, 13 March 2013
Clean Ocean Foundation clean up at Wonthaggi
From John Gemill and Clean Ocean Foundation:
Last weekend saw the very successful beginning of our ongoing project Operation Sea Eagle.
We got a great deal of media coverage including this clip http://www.youtube.com/watch?
We collected a great deal of scientific data and underwater footage - including of the desal outlet that you can see on the facebook site www.facebook.com/
Operation Sea Eagle is already building strong links with the scientific, scholastic and general communities to keep an "Eagle Eye" on the Bass Coast and marine pollution including outfalls, ocean acidification, climate change, plastic pollution .... and of course the desalination plant.
John Gemmill
CEO Clean Ocean Foundation
PO Box 475 Wonthaggi Vic 3995
John Gemmill
CEO Clean Ocean Foundation
PO Box 475 Wonthaggi Vic 3995
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Saturday, 23 February 2013
Sunday, 15 July 2012
Monday, 16 April 2012
Climate change, your questions and answers from experts - with Groundswell Bass Coast
has some experienced and environmentally aware people within the organisation.
This underwrites what I expect to be two successful Climate Change forums
on 9 May and 23 May at the Wonthaggi Town Hall.
Speakers include:
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Tuesday, 29 June 2010
David Gessner : A house that we built : a nursery rhyme for the Gulf
Miss Eagle receives Guernica magazine regularly - and I have lifted the material below from the latest, 27 June 2010. How could I not. Apologies Guernica and forgiveness please. Three cheers for David Gessner. See related and further reading at end of post.
June 27, 2010
By David Gessner
This entry originally appeared at Beacon Broadside.
~~~~~~~~~~~
David Gessner: A House That We Built: A Nursery Rhyme for the Gulf
By David Gessner
This is the oil that spills from the pipe and gushes into the Gulf
This is the marsh that breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
That now fills with oil
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
This is the oyster, now besmeared, that lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe and gushes into the Gulf.
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe and gushes into the Gulf.
This is the man, all forlorn, who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
These are the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
This is the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
This is the fat cat, to the manor born,
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
This is the Prez, of power shorn, who scolds the fat cat, to the manor born
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
This is the Gulf, round Florida’s horn, which hosts the Prez, of power shorn
Who scolds the fat cat, to the manor born
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
Who scolds the fat cat, to the manor born
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
These are the storms, that have always torn,
Straight through the Gulf, round Florida’s horn,
Which hosts the Prez, of power shorn
Who scolds the fat cat, to the manor born
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
Straight through the Gulf, round Florida’s horn,
Which hosts the Prez, of power shorn
Who scolds the fat cat, to the manor born
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
This is the warming, whose coming we mourn,
That now fuels the storms, that have always torn
Straight through the Gulf, round Florida’s horn,
Which hosts the Prez, of power shorn
Who scolds the fat cat, to the manor born
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
That now fuels the storms, that have always torn
Straight through the Gulf, round Florida’s horn,
Which hosts the Prez, of power shorn
Who scolds the fat cat, to the manor born
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
This is the blowhard blowing his horn,
Who doesn’t believe in the warming we mourn
That now fuels the storms, that have always torn
Straight through the Gulf, round Florida’s horn,
Which hosts the Prez, of power shorn
Who scolds the fat cat, to the manor born
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
Who doesn’t believe in the warming we mourn
That now fuels the storms, that have always torn
Straight through the Gulf, round Florida’s horn,
Which hosts the Prez, of power shorn
Who scolds the fat cat, to the manor born
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
These are the rules that prick like a thorn
Into the blowhard blowing his horn
Who doesn’t believe in the warming we mourn
That now fuels the storms, that have always torn
Straight through the Gulf, round Florida’s horn,
Which hosts the Prez, of power shorn
Who scolds the fat cat, to the manor born
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
Into the blowhard blowing his horn
Who doesn’t believe in the warming we mourn
That now fuels the storms, that have always torn
Straight through the Gulf, round Florida’s horn,
Which hosts the Prez, of power shorn
Who scolds the fat cat, to the manor born
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
These are the Ecos, of doom who warn,
Who want more rules that prick like a thorn
Into the blowhard blowing his horn
Who doesn’t believe in the warming we mourn
That now fuels the storms, that have always torn
Straight through the Gulf, round Florida’s horn,
Which hosts the Prez, of power shorn
Who scolds the fat cat, to the manor born
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
Who want more rules that prick like a thorn
Into the blowhard blowing his horn
Who doesn’t believe in the warming we mourn
That now fuels the storms, that have always torn
Straight through the Gulf, round Florida’s horn,
Which hosts the Prez, of power shorn
Who scolds the fat cat, to the manor born
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
And this is the car to which we have sworn,
To love and protect and to not fuel with corn
(Even the Ecos, of doom who warn,)
Who want more rules that prick like a thorn
Into the blowhard blowing his horn
Who doesn’t believe in the warming we mourn
That now fuels the storms, that have always torn
Straight through the Gulf, round Florida’s horn,
Which hosts the Prez, of power shorn
Who scolds the fat cat, to the manor born
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
To love and protect and to not fuel with corn
(Even the Ecos, of doom who warn,)
Who want more rules that prick like a thorn
Into the blowhard blowing his horn
Who doesn’t believe in the warming we mourn
That now fuels the storms, that have always torn
Straight through the Gulf, round Florida’s horn,
Which hosts the Prez, of power shorn
Who scolds the fat cat, to the manor born
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
And this is the thing that leaves us all lorn
That we put in the cars to which we have sworn
To love and protect and to not fuel with corn
(Even the Ecos, of doom who warn,)
Who want more rules that prick like a thorn
Into the blowhard blowing his horn
Who doesn’t believe in the warming we mourn
That now fuels the storms, that have always torn
Straight through the Gulf, round Florida’s horn,
Which hosts the Prez, of power shorn
Who scolds the fat cat, to the manor born
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
That we put in the cars to which we have sworn
To love and protect and to not fuel with corn
(Even the Ecos, of doom who warn,)
Who want more rules that prick like a thorn
Into the blowhard blowing his horn
Who doesn’t believe in the warming we mourn
That now fuels the storms, that have always torn
Straight through the Gulf, round Florida’s horn,
Which hosts the Prez, of power shorn
Who scolds the fat cat, to the manor born
Who enrages the public, all full of scorn,
Who follow the writers who roll in each morn
To tell the story of the man, all forlorn,
Who harvests the oyster, now besmeared
That lives near the marsh
That breathes with the sea, and protects the land,
That now fills with oil,
That spills from the pipe
And gushes into the Gulf.
Copyright 2010 Beacon Broadside
___________________________
___________________________
This entry originally appeared at Beacon Broadside.
David Gessner is the author of several books, including Soaring with Fidel: An Osprey Odyssey from Cape Cod to Cuba and Beyond and is currently the editor of Ecotone, a literary journal. Gessner also teaches at the University of North Carolina at Wilmington. The following nursery rhyme can be found on Gessner’s website with Bill Roorbach, titled Bill and Dave’s Cocktail Hour.
Related reading:
Further reading:
Friday, 21 August 2009
ANIMALS AUSTRALIA ASKS US TO HELP END THE DOLPHIN SLAUGHTER IN JAPAN
Broome in Western Australia is the sister-city of Taiji and may hold the key to ending this slaughter. Thousands of visitors flock to Broome each year to watch whales and dolphins frolic in safety in the blue waters there. Yet the willingness of the Shire of Broome to maintain the sister-city of Taiji in effect provides an Australian endorsement of Taiji's annual dolphin slaughter.
World-famous dolphin trainer of the Flipper TV series Richard O'Barry visited Broome this week lobbying the Shire to cut ties with Taiji — a move which would add significant international pressure to end the slaughter. The extraordinary lengths that O'Barry and an undercover team went to in filming the full horror of the Taiji dolphin slaughter are revealed in the internationally acclaimed documentaryThe Cove due for release in Australian cinemas next week.
Pressure is mounting on Broome after O'Barry's visit. Many local residents are outraged that their city is condoning this shocking slaughter by maintaining a sister-city relationship with Taiji.
Please join Animals Australia in calling on the Shire of Broome to immediately suspend its sister-city relationship and pressure Taiji to end this mass dolphin slaughter.
TO TAKE ACTION
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