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(232) True Grass Farms:
Twelve thousand years ago, a mere eye-blink in our evolutionary history, the sole surviving hominid species, Homo Sapiens Sapiens, leapt from the Paleolithic into the Neolithic. For two-and-a-half million years, our ancestors had been quite content to hunt, fish, and gather Nature's abundance, doing the bare minimum to augment Her generous offerings. Although mighty thin on the ground, humans were nonetheless tall and healthy, with good teeth and strong bones. Provided we made it through the perilous years of early childhood, and didn't get murdered by one of our fellows, we lived long and fruitful lives. We had plenty of leisure time, which we spent in improving ourselves through mastering the use of fire, making tools and clothing, acquiring language, inventing art and music and generally lording it over the lesser creatures of the earth.
Well, this just wasn't good enough, was it. Weary of hunting and fishing all day and feasting and story-telling all night, we decided to trap ourselves into a cycle of domestic drudgery; rooting ourselves in one spot our whole lives long; grudgingly rendering up oppressive taxes to a class of parasitic drones, and occasionally relieving the tedium of our mean, nasty, brutish and short existences by wiping out neighboring societies whose main offense was to have land that we wanted.
One of the first creatures that fell victim to our our craze for farming was the fierce-horned aurochs, ancestor of modern cattle. As the human population expanded, the habitat of the wild aurochs declined: twelve thousand years ago the aurochs likely outnumbered mankind seven-to-one; mankind's descendants outnumber those of the aurochs' seven-to-one today. The oldest aurochs remains have been dated to around two million years ago, in India. The last wild aurochs died in 1627 in the Jaktorow Forest, Poland.
The parallel between ourselves and a creature that trod the earth in tandem with our ancestral Hominidae; that was domesticated at the same time as we; and that went extinct a few hundred years ago, is so plain that I need not dwell upon it. Let's try getting along with Mother Nature a little better, OK? She never quits, and She never loses.
" . . . nasty, brutish and short . . ." Thomas Hobbes (1588–1679), "Leviathan" 1651