A Dragon's Take on Eating, Cotton Seeds, and Dr. Norman Borlaug

I love to eat. Snack. Nibble. Very well--gorge! What Dragon does not? With two gullets and a massive weight to support, we are required to partake/ consume/devour equally massive quantities of caloric rations, energy elevators, weight promoting particulates. Chow.

Fortunately, a Dragon's tastes are broad and varied--meat of any ilk will suffice. Cooked or uncooked. With or without bones, fur, hair, scales, horns, antlers, hooves, fins or whatever proteinaceous protrusion projects from the anatomy of one's dinner choice. It is good to be able to be cavalier about one's dining habits, to have the capacity for eating all that is available without the necessity of considering its nutritional value, health significance, or accessibility (in truth, with so much to select from, and because a Dragon has wings, accessibility to a meal is rarely a factor). Humans, however, have a more precarious/uncertain/insecure relationship with food.

I'm sad to say hunger/starvation/deprevation not only occur in some parts of the world, they are commonplace. Take a look at the list of some of the most famous famines in history. Famine...a deplorable situation a Dragon can only shake his head at and sorrow for. Such conditions result from so many causes. Weather is often the culprit. Soil scouring drought, or ground devouring flood--either can deplete resources. Insects, too, can be deadly. Voracious and overwhelming, a vertiable storm of gleaming little carapaces chewing, gnawing, and demolishing foodstuffs off the ground, the stalk, or out of the storage bin. Mice have this destructive capacity, as well. Explosive numbers of any creature, even humans, bode poorly for food stocks. Nature can only support so many mouths/ stomachs/gullets at a time! [Fortunately, Dragons reproduce slowly; we are few and far between.]

The worst perpetrators, in moi esteemed opinion, are war, hostitlies, confrontation between and among mankind. Humans have the most startling and deplorable capacity for violence upon their own. Dragons do not eat species of equitable intellect. There is something 'cannabalistic' about such an activity! Men, however, appear to have no such restraint. Some blame it on hormones (ah! blame nature for it, of course), others on lack of education (not applicable, I think, when many of the offenders have college degrees), while many fault culture, religion, greed, and/or simply plain evil. Causality aside, the end results are the same--famine, deprivation, death of the innocent.

Ahem. But my mind/brain/thought processes are not focused, in this moment, on the sad and mournful causes of hunger, but on prospects of confronting the foul condition via the grace of human minds bent on salvation rather than destruction. Many humans not only rise above the aggressive gene, they soar above it. Which only goes to prove one does not have to have wings to fly...

Recently, I read of the passing of a human who devoted his life to fighting world hunger (yes, Dragons read. Large books, or tiny books with very large print!) I tend to think this significant event has occurred beyond the scrutiny/ knowledge/awareness of most of the humanity this fine man served. This important human was Dr. Norman Borlaug, a professor of international agriculture at Texas A&M University in College Station, Texas. He was a Nobel Prize-winning scientist and father of the 'green revolution' who was credited with saving one billion lives from famine. One Billion! Why--I've not counted that many stars when night flying! In the 1940's, with a team of young scientists, he developed the disease-resistant/high yield/adaptable wheat that helped prevent starvation/ hunger/death in India and Pakistan in the mid-1960's. T'is it any wonder that in 2007 Dr. Borlaug received the Congressional Gold Metal, the highest civilian honor given by the United States Congress? Oh, this man had wings of caliber, the finely-feathered kind that swoop the body and soul above and beyond the common/ordinary/general lives to which most are relegated due to lesser vision. And, perhaps, lesser hearts.

Fear not, brave and capricious humans! The baton has not been dropped. Even now another professor from that same notable university is working to provide an abundant new protein source to our hungry world: cotton seeds!, Dr. Keerti Rathore has managed to construct/develop/generate a genetic sequence that blocks the toxic chemical that protects cotton from insects--and prevents humans from consuming them (the seeds, not the insects). Cotton seeds are a rich source of protein, and developing an edible variety will open the door to safely utilizing the more than 40 million tons of seeds produced annually. The planet can use such an influx of nutritional import. A tasty import at that; reportedly the seeds taste like chickpeas.

Ummmm...as a Dragon I've had little association with peas in general; however, s'not to say I could not be tempted to partake of such fare if properly prepared. Might go down well with a yummy bovine.

Dear writers of the rich and substantive word, human or otherwise, be willing to seek out new words, new meanings, fresh approaches to enrich your writing style. Every subject has the potential to be fruitful. Read beyond your comfort zone, be stirred by deeper thoughts, and extract bountiful aspects of your reading experience to salt your prose with realism and meaning. Keep Writing!

The Fruits of the Labor...or...Eating the Words.

Dragons do not eat words/written expressions/ visual statements. No substance to them, you know. At least not in the caloric/energy/joules sense. Oh, they are a 'meaty' matter, but not in the manner of beef, fowl, or fish. Nay. Rather we Dragons generate words. Our phenomenal minds create clever contextual concepts. Engender energetic expressions. Spawn spectacular seeds of stimulating speech. Ah, well, you get the gist.

Words come naturally, nowadays, to us Isoladian Dragons. I have no idea how the beasts derived in other lands/worlds/places of authorial imagination communicate. For most of them I anticipate growls, grunts and roars are most often the vocabulary of the day. One cannot visualize much conversation, let alone accomplishment, from that. But to each his/her/its own.

'Tis any wonder I prefer Dragons with a flare for vocabulary? Lexicon? A glorious glossary of gab?

Such as that young Dragon who wings through Naomi Novik's books, Temeraire. Her historical fantasies are incredible. Or the old codger of cinematic fame, who managed to talk his way onto the big screen/monitor/display in Dragonheart. Even better--Jo Walton's Dragons in Tooth and Claw are chatty, intellectual, perfectly worthy beings who thrive in a world not unlike that in which humans dwell. Now there are Dragons worth their salt (not to be sprinkled on their words, which, of course, we have already determined are not eaten).

Ah, so...why do I discourse on wordy Dragons? Because I must point out that we Dragons are late arrivals to the marvels of language. Dialogue. Conversation. We speak, and subsequently write, because we remain enthralled by not only the process, but the wonder of the capacity/ability/ aptitude of the deed! The novelty has not yet worn off. Humans attained the skill so long ago, they no longer truly appreciate the miracle of it. Oral communication is a phenomenon in itself (at least it is for us; how would you like to manage verbalization's via a hard length of jaw over a forked tongue and eventually through fangs?) I for one doubt you could manage it. We Dragons do because we've no option, and we possess stubbornness/ persistence/tenacity without equal. And--we love the endeavor, the mental connection, the ready, heady interplay of knowledge.

The written word, however, is even more splendid. The rendering of brainwaves in visual form upon parchment/papyrus/dinner napkins. The embodiment of thought in a physical shape. Vigorous verbs. Artful adjectives. Noble nouns. Squiggles that, when appropriately arranged, expose the wisdom of the ages. The exultation's. Every soulful sentiment slipping out. The prettiness...and the pettiness.

I ask in all curiosity: do you write because you love words, or love words because you write? You have probably not given it due thought, any more than the chicken when asked to determine whether or not it preceded its egg/shell/ fertilized embryo! Perhaps because I am a Dragon I view the question from a more simplistic perspective than you more complex humans. For us it is the former rather than the latter. And the latter is not without worth because exercising your ability with words builds appreciation of those building blocks. Those structuring stones. Those edifying bricks of ideas. Oh, as a poetic Dragon would say: good, better, best, never let it rest, until the good is better, and the better best. Even a youngling human understands this!

The written word is not only the building block of ideas, but of civilizations. Those who love words, write. Those who write, love words--or will learn to. Ergo--if you love to write, then teach/impart/ gift those who lack the skill so that they, too, may taste/savor/relish the fruits of the laboring pen/quill/keyboard.

I speak of fruit metaphorically, of course. Remember--we do not eat the words! If you swallow them, spit them out. If you spit them out, then spread them about. Water with feelings. Fertilize with enthusiasm. Watch your garden grow: sentence, by paragraph, by page. Articles. Novels. Laws. Edicts. Libraries. Universities. Cities. The world.

Ah! The very thought makes my gullets growl! Or is that my brain, formulating scrumptious, succulent, yummy words?

The Fat Assed Dragon - or why I'll never get a butt tuck

Tonight we will discourse on weight. Mass. A load on the rear. Very well, fat asses, if you will. I come before you as an advocate of staunch sterns, beefy buttocks. Rousing rumps.

Were one to approach this subject in an erudite manner, they would point out that statistics indicate today's average/normal/typical Dragon is a good ton--2,000 pounds, to be exact...more or less--heavier than his predecessor. Of course, when you live as long as we do--ho, a few centuries are mere child's play!--you wing your way through so many socio-economic-cultural changes that an alteration in size/mass/bulk is to be expected. I mean, does it not make sense that when civilization improves and food sources increase both in size and quantity, that one's appetite grows in direct proportion? Appetite is natural, wholesome, hearty. Absolutely, positively there is Nothing wrong with a good appetite. Not that there aren't lean times. I've seen my share of skin and bones living, Dragons grown so emaciated they are little more than a shiny skein of scales draping a skeleton! Pathetic. Sad. Wretched to behold. It happens when resources are depleted. In simplistic, basic, unsophisticated terms, skinny deer equate to skinny Dragons. Few deer equate to very skinny Dragons. No deer--its too horrific to express in a public communication. The same can be said were I to speak of cattle, pigs, sheep, goats, birds, and even fish, small though they are.

The point to which I come is this: fat is strength. Gaunt is difficult to look upon! Ergo, a fat-assed Dragon is good. A healthy rear, tush, derriere gives one's tail power, suppleness, vitality. A gathering of adipose globs upon the haunches provides an excellent cushion upon which to settle when one lands, to comfortably ensconce one's rear when sitting on sharp cave rocks. And swimming! Fat floats, my dears. Water loves cushy fat. Ever hear of a Dragon drowning? Impossible. Unfeasible. Brawny buttocks bunch and bounce across the waves, skim like silk through surf, drift like flotsam over wild white water. Substance, solidity, immensity--the joy of heft is without equal. Why, then, one must inquire, would any Dragon select, choose, prefer to be narrow of girth, scrawny of leg, bony of butt?

There you have it. The anathema to this theme is the dreaded, dreary, dismal diet. The abominable cut down. Fast. Starve! The state of mind that denies the necessity of food. Fare. Groceries. Chow. As if by not eating, one believes they don't want to eat. Detox. Purge. Cleanse. Flush. Eliminate. Scour the innards of every minuscule spec of cellular stoutness.

Resist, my fellow Dragons. If you would have the strength, the essence, the vigor to fly amid the stars and flirt with frigid peaks, eat. Gorge. Stuff every gullet, bowel, nook and cranny with the glorious profusion of edibles laid before you. Salute, I say, the tremendous tush!

Sigh. I'm hungry. Anyone have a plump bovine on them? Or a doughnut?