ColumnOpinion
Forty-One States, Nine Stories, One Truck
A defence of the ratio. Most nights nothing happens, and the nights when nothing happens are the entire reason the other nights mean anything.
Work by Brindisi
Six Hundred Hours On The Riverbank. Forty Seconds Of Something.
Our correspondent is publishing all 188 pages of his field notebook, including the eleven consecutive nights on which nothing happened. Two witnesses disagree with him about the size. An ornithologist offers two identifications and asked for room to explain both.
Something Held Still At 187 Metres For Nine Minutes
Two survey vessels 1.2 kilometres apart logged the same return against a 0.4-knot current. The skipper wrote down five things it could be before she told anyone. Our acoustician has ruled out two and will not rank the rest.
Nine Chupacabras Went To The Lab. Nine Coyotes Came Back.
Eleven years of case summaries from a Texas state veterinary laboratory. Eight had advanced sarcoptic mange, which strips the coat, thickens the hide and changes the gait. The ninth is the interesting one, and it is not what anybody hoped.
