The blowout accident is just one more in a seemingly endless string of environmental insults and injuries. Life on the bayou gets harder each year and a rich and unique heritage is slowly eroding away.
The sheen of the oil slick seems endless, and that's from someone who has flown over and seen it. No BP estimates are credible right now; their worst case scenario has already been surpassed several times.
A week ago I flew out over the Gulf with conservation pilot Tom Hutchings and Waterkeeper John Wathen to the Source. The metastasizing spill in the Gulf is like cancer and the activity 90 miles offshore at the source like a messy surgery.
I can understand that cash-strapped agencies needed time to respond to a crisis of this size, but they have had more than a month, and yet we still don't know where the oil is right now or how it is affecting fisheries.
Yesterday I arrived in New Orleans to see firsthand the impacts of the still-uncontrolled, still flowing oil spill from Deepwater Horizon. The first impression I got is that the coast of Louisiana is the work horse for the oil and gas industry.
With so much progress over the last 50 years, who'd have thought we may soon be reliving the fictional life of young Lucy Lynch in mid-20th century Thomaston. I am filled with nostalgia at the thought.
By some estimates, 60 percent of U.S. creeks, rivers, and streams and tens of millions of acres of wetlands and other sensitive waterbodies have lost federal protection in the last few years due to the Supreme Court's decisions.