The temperature hovered around zero Fahrenheit, but the sun struggled to peek through a thinning bank of clouds. My breath fogged before my face and formed a skim of ice on my collar. However cold it was, it was wonderful to feel the sun, feeble as it was, on my cheeks. And the scene was beautiful, too. The River’s strong current resisted icing, and the open water smoked in the frigid cold. The hillside beyond the bridge was gilded with hoarfrost from the steam freezing on trees’ limbs and branches. Even the wires crossing The River didn’t detract from the loveliness.

 

 
But then the faint breeze made something glint over the bridge. A tangle of monofilament spanned several of the utility wires, a bobber (and, no doubt, a hook) on the upper end, and a wad on the lower end.

 

 
Then, as I contemplated this hazard to birds, I looked overhead and saw another tangle of mono, a bobber, sinker, and hook dangling from the nearby wires.

 

 
A sudden snow flurry blew in on a chilly gust, but that’s not what made me shiver. Monofilament is deadly to wildlife. A pair of kingfishers build a nest near this place, and they perch on those wires over the deep waters to watch for fish. No way could I reach the mono and hooks to pull them down, and made a mental note to ask the utility crew next time I saw them if they’d remove the hazards in both places. Mono wraps around necks, beaks, legs, and wings, causing gangrene and eventually, after an agonizing period of pain, it causes death. Hooks can blind, pierce limbs and bodies, and be swallowed by birds and wild animals, also causing a prolonged death.

As I walked back home, my face lowered to keep warm inside my muffler, I saw this:

 

 
A discarded plastic cup, straw, and some cola. Not the most egregious display of a disregard for the world we live in, but dangerous in its own way. Skunks and raccoons often poke their noses into cups to lick out the contents, their faces are trapped inside, and they wander blindly until they suffocate, starve, or meet some other horrific end by trauma. The cup was more evidence of a complete lack of interest, an ingrained insensibility to the integrity of the places where we live. A trash can was a few steps away. I have to wonder if the person who discarded this cup and straw would have done so on his or her own lawn, or inside the house.

 
How many of us take the time to look beyond the beauty strip? How many of us really want to? Aren’t many of us, much of time, content to avert our eyes? After all, what you find around and beyond the strip of natural beauty can be painful. If you ride a bike on our public roads, hike the trails, walk to do your shopping and pick up mail, or paddle on public waterways, than maybe you’re less likely to look the other way.

We’d like to encourage everyone to look through the beauty strip. To that end, every third Monday Outside Up North publish a new Beyond the Beauty Strip feature. Here’s this month’s edition. If you have an example that you’d like to share, please do send it along.

 
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