Bad Chickens and Hogweed

The Plague by Camus is a ripping yarn about a Algerian town under seige by the spectre of a full-blown Bubonic epidemic. It's filled to the lid with grisly death and suffering, existential conversations, and lanced boils. Think Michael Crichton, but with more French ennui. (Need some beach reading this summer?)

I think of 'The Plauge' novel - I read it years ago - when I read the news stories about the migrating birds. Or when I gaze suspiciously at my Chicken Chow Fun from the local takeout. Because the scientists are telling us we're overdue for a deadly pandemic, and the Avian Flu is the hot new contender. All it will take is one silly migratory goose from Southest Asia and a few twists of the nuclear material in the virus - and presto, you've got something transmittable to humans.

A stockpile of vaccines? Don't bother to ask.

While we're worrying about the threat posed to us by nature itself, don't forget the giant hogweed. This sucker is large and ugly, and if you cut into the stalk it sprays a noxious goo that will cause second degree burns and eventually destroys your skin's ability to protect itself from the sun. And (locals take note) the spores are spreading into Ohio from the East.

Thanks to Mrs. Spacetropic, who alerted me to the Hogweed Peril after hearing about this one on local public radio.