2 Unexpected Consequences
drought and seasonal winds, refusing to believe that “one man cannot
stop the dust from blowing but one man can start it.” Ultimately, the
government ended up paying farmers to conserve their land through
strip cropping, terracing, and planting trees as windbreaks.
The environmental disaster subsided. The taxpayer bailout had
rewarded farmers for changing course without having to change their
minds. Many remained unconvinced that they were complicit in creat-
ing the Dust Bowl. When your livelihood was at stake, it was easier to
blame the weather than yourself; as a landowner, you had the right to
do as you pleased. The government had reinforced this belief through
financial incentives, creating a dangerous precedent that there would
be no penalty for environmental destruction, even when it directly dam-
ages others.
Once in a while, we do learn when things are going wrong. On our
farm, no one wanted to see a cow get sick and die. Yet periodically,
one would become lethargic and lie down. When attempts to coax
the animal to stand, eat, or drink failed, my father sterilized a glass
syringe and a stainless steel needle in boiling water. Then taking from
the refrigerator a bottle of Combiotic, a veterinary drug comprised of
two antibiotics, he drew down the needed dosage. Back at the barn, I
restrained the animal while he plunged the needle through the dense
hide and into the muscle, emptying the contents. Giving an injection
was infrequent enough that I never paid attention to details like dosage
per animal weight.
One summer while my parents were away, my brother pointed to
a recumbent calf in the pasture. In the days prior, we had noticed its
energy level was falling. The calf refused to stand or take nourishment.
Fearing it could die on our watch, I prepared a syringe of Combiotic,
just as I had seen my father do. Unsure of the dosage, I scanned the label
for directions, but I was also hurrying, scared of what would happen if
I waited too long. While my brother held the calf, I took the syringe in
hand and gave the injection.
As I pulled the needle out, a new fear swept over me—had I just
overdosed the calf? Rereading the instructions, I realized I had injected
a full adult dosage. In my teenage mind, I had just administered a lethal