From Where I Sit: Fat Deer

By Larry Eiss

Protected, cedar trees will grow branches all the way to the ground, but I quickly noticed that no cedar tree at Red Fox Run had branches below about six feet. After observing the habits of deer I realized why: Deer are particularly fond of cedar. I have seen them stand on their hind legs to reach the tasty morsels. It's quite impressive.

This makes life easier when mowing the lawn, of course, since you are less likely to experience branch-induced spontaneous extraction by the neck, but it gives an eerie sameness to the height at which branches start on the trees. I have gazed across acres of land, taking in probably a hundred cedar trees, and the branches on all of them begin at precisely the same level. It's a strange orderliness, considering the random nature of trees.

At Red Fox Run deer are always around. In winter when food is in short supply, they eat all sorts of greenery they won't touch in the leafy months. The deer all look fit and trim. They seem always to get enough to eat, but never too much.

In fact, the only fat deer I had ever seen were in petting zoos… until today. I looked out my window at 4:30 this morning and there were three fat (obese would not be too strong a term) deer grazing on my front-yard landscaping.

To help you understand this incongruity, I have to let you in on the big news on the home front. We have returned to the suburban life. After four years, we have sold Red Fox Run to some city folk for an obscene profit and now reside on an acre and a quarter on the outskirts of Albany, N.Y.

We decided to make the move for a variety of reasons. As you might have surmised from reading previous columns, maintaining 57.62 acres was very costly in terms of both time and money. In addition, the relocation, while pushing my daily commute dangerously close to three hours each way, got us closer to my wife's job, our church and many of our friends. I expect it will allow me to spend more time in the woodshop as well. And that's a good thing.

The three fat deer made me stop and think about the differences between my old life and my new one. Instead of my having to ride around on a farm tractor plowing snow in five-degree weather, a man in a nice warm truck cleared my driveway while, as hedonistic as I know it sounds, I relaxed in the whirlpool. There are things about the suburbs you just can't beat.

Another difference the portly deer brought to mind was foraging. It was obvious from observing this triumvirate that there were ample resources readily at hand – at least in terms of food supplies. With a huge blue home center and a discount department store (with integrated grocery) sporting a similar motif just around the corner, I feel a certain oneness with these generously proportioned deer. Anything I need is less than five minutes away. Soon I, and my toolbox, may both need larger scales to enumerate the gravitational pull on our masses.

As the gourmet-shrub-fed venison wandered into the street, easily satisfying yet another need by licking salt from the pavement, I was reminded of the pleasure of readily available city water. Water wells make one self-sufficient, but bring their own set of problems and concerns in dry years or when one's house falls off the electrical grid for one reason or another.

I'll leave it to you to decide which is better. From where I sit, each environment has its benefits and drawbacks. Country living is certainly more glamorous when you are rudely awakened to the sound of sirens from the squad cars that pursued an "alleged perpetrator" to a stop atop the now-broken and gushing fire hydrant in your front lawn, and while coming out to examine the damage, you encounter an oozy landmine left by your neighbor's "best friend." Stuff like that never happens in the country.

On the other hand, when you awaken at o'-dark-thirty to the sound of your "best friend" barking at a bobcat that's screaming like a lost and wounded child only to discover the only way to flush a toilet is to run to the pond for a bucket of water, and on the way back you step on a dead bass dropped by an incompetent osprey and spill the whole thing, suburban living has its share of glamour as well. Stuff like that never happens in suburbia.

So goes the argument about which is better, typing code or clicking a mouse. Each has its benefits and drawbacks. Coders will tell you they can program more rapidly by hand than when using a GUI. They'll intone the mantra their code is more flexible than what the graphical tools generate. Arguments will be made about the reusability of modules, the fine-tuning of algorithms, the elegance of solutions.

On the other hand, mouse-clickers point to rapid screen layout and easily modified output styling. They rhapsodize about shallow learning curves, reusable controls and broad usability of a standards-based interface. Arguments are put forth about the built-in functions, predefined calculations and the promise of one version of the truth.

I am as comfortable at Red Fox Run cutting hay or plowing snow as I am at our new place soaking in my whirlpool or playing Spades with friends. WebFOCUS is the same way. It provides an excellent GUI for mouse-clickers and a powerful language for coders. In the Business Intelligence world, that's unique. It's an old idea that's new again.

Flexibility of development techniques and style, usability by anyone, auditable application functionality and incredible "never hit a brick wall" power are the benefits.

What's more, additional functionality is coming in the next release that will benefit both kinds of developers. In the coming release, using SQL code within the GUI will be a simpler process, and flow diagrams of handwritten or GUI-generated Dialogue Manager scripting, and a host of other great functions, will be available. Keep your antlers pointed this way. Coming issues will be filled with fascinating revelations. Nexus awaits!