The Rendering

On July 26, a married couple, Cristen Amanda Brink and her husband, Clinton David Brink, were attacked and stabbed to death while hiking with their two daughters at Devil's Den State Park in Arkansas. The girls, aged 7 and 9, managed to flee and seek help at a visitors’ center.

The attack seemed utterly random, but a possible male suspect caught the attention of other park visitors, who worked with a forensic sketch artist to create a composite image of the man.

Five days after the murders, police arrested a man named Andrew James McGann at Lupita’s Beauty Salon in Springdale, Arkansas, while he was in the middle of getting a haircut. He reportedly admitted to the murders once taken into custody, though no motive has yet been revealed.

What I find most incredible is the accuracy of the sketch produced by the forensic artist based on witness descriptions—the sharp chin and the too-deep, dead eyes. The sketch captured what arresting officers described as the murderer’s “soulless” look.

I’ve posted a photo of McGann and the forensic artist’s rendering for comparison.

The Artist's Sketch

Photo of Andrew James McGann

—Mitchell Hegman

Proper Care of Your Moon Orchid

Desiree has a gift for the nurture and care of orchids. Her moon orchid, in particular, has thrived. I’ve been paying attention and thought I might offer others a helpful list of tips for proper orchid care. Here is my list of things to know when caring for your own orchid:

• Give your orchid plenty of sunlight.
• Water your orchid once a week. Placing a large ice cube at the plant's base and allowing it to melt is efficient and root-friendly. A word of caution: don’t short yourself on ice for Scotch when using ice as a watering method.
• Don’t use a wire brush or industrial-strength cleaning agents when “washing” your orchid.
• Refrain from swimming with your orchid—especially in the deep end of the pool. They’re not strong swimmers.
• Don’t use your orchid as a pry bar.
• Feed your plant orchid food every two weeks when it is actively growing. Never feed it dill pickles.
• Avoid exposing your orchid to country music for extended periods of time.
• Don’t baby-talk your orchid.
• Your moon orchid is hermaphroditic, meaning the flowers have both boy and girl parts. For this reason, giving your plant a unisex name is helpful. Names such as Hank or Brock are not recommended.

Desiree’s Moon Orchid

—Mitchell Hegman

A Handsome Malady

The two most beautiful women are—in descending order—my wife and Salma Hayek. Here’s the thing: neither of them would look more striking if wrung out from battling a case of influenza or afflicted with a discoloring rash.

Plants, to the contrary, may strike a more gorgeous pose when stricken by sickness or the end of a growing cycle.

Consider a temperate-zone autumn: maples igniting in red and orange before shedding bare for winter; aspens fluttering gold in the light breeze; rushes swept into bronze by the season’s chill breath.

And then there is chlorosis—the yellowing of leaves due to a lack of chlorophyll. This condition is usually triggered by nutrient deficiencies, particularly iron, though nitrogen, manganese, and zinc may also be to blame. Poor drainage, compacted soil, root damage, or an overly alkaline pH can further complicate a plant’s ability to draw in what it needs.

Yet the result is often arresting.

While spiraling down a high mountain road, Desiree and I spotted a thimbleberry whorl suffering from chlorosis. The effect was striking—like seeing the plant rendered into a living x-ray. The entire network of its hydraulic system glowed bright green, while the leaf edges faded into soft yellow.

I felt compelled to take a photograph.

Chlorosis on Display

A Healthy Thimbleberry

—Mitchell Hegman

Heavy Lies the Good Looks

I have been keeping a personal journal since the 1980s. Today, I am sharing an entry from August of 1996:

Today, Rodney and I were killing some time while awaiting an answer that would allow us to proceed with our work. As we shuffled around with nothing better to do, I spotted a weight scale on the floor nearby. I poked Rodney’s belly. “Let’s see how much we weigh, Fatso.”

I pounced on the scale first, watched the numbers flutter and wag back and forth until settling on 165—pretty close to my normal. Rodney, who stands several inches taller and appears well-constructed, jumped on the scale and watched the numbers fall to almost exactly the same weight.

We both stared at each other, dumbfounded. He’s definitely bigger than me. Probably, the scale is toast. Shrugging my shoulders, I said, “I don’t know how to explain it, Pal. I guess good-looking is heavier than ugly.”

—Mitchell Hegman

Looking Down

I recently read an article expressing the possible health issues indicated by always walking with your head down. Psychologists suggest that a lowered gaze can signal low mood, depression, or a lack of confidence. It might also point to fatigue, illness, or even deep thought. In some cases, it's just how we protect ourselves from overstimulation or social awkwardness. Of course, context matters. In some cultures, looking down is a sign of respect. But in general, the way we carry ourselves tends to say something—sometimes more than we realize.

On the other side of this, I can readily identify two practical reasons for always looking down at the ground when walking around the area near my house. First, this is rattlesnake country, and you want to make sure you’re not about to step on one. Secondly, the ground surrounding my house is littered with rocks suitable as specimens in a rock collection.

—Mitchell Hegman

The Dying Tree Outside my Cabin Door

Several years ago, I and some competent—albeit beer-drinking—friends felled a tall fir tree that was dying and potentially a threat to my cabin. Now, another tree is in the process of punching out. This one, having been attacked by spruce budworms several years ago, is dying from the top down. The top perished some time ago.

When the top of a spruce or fir dies back after a spruce budworm attack, it most certainly marks the beginning of the end. The larvae feed heavily on the new growth in the upper crown, stripping needles and killing the tender shoots where a tree muscles skyward. With the crown gone, the tree loses its primary photosynthetic engine and its hormonal compass, throwing off the balance guiding healthy growth. Over the next seasons, weakened and depleted, the tree struggles. It may attempt a few desperate measures—sprouting shoots from lower branches or along its trunk—but the damage is often too deep. Roots begin to die from lack of energy, and the entire system slowly shuts down. This slow collapse sees bark sloughing away, limbs breaking, and finally, an unchecked fall.

A logger recently told me some trees with dead tops may fight on for some fifteen years, but the end is stalking them. Unfortunately, this particular tree is likely to topple in the direction of my cabin following its demise. And the cabin is within reach.

It’s time for me to beer up and call in my qualified felling workforce.

The Tall Dying Tree as Seen from the Cabin Door

—Mitchell Hegman

A Skirmish in the Mountains

Just as the long shadows of late evening stretched across the forest floor, the cabin fell under attack from a motley collection of empty cans and plastic bottles. We had no choice but to fill our hands with firearms and stand in defense.

Fortunately, we had our best Red Ryder BB guns and plenty of ammo on hand.

We quickly set up a firing line at the daylight basement door and began knocking down the array set against us.

I must say, the empty vessels were no match for our Red Ryder rifles. The guns sang out steadily and our aim proved true.

Desiree, Jack, and John in Defense

The Array Set Against Us

—Mitchell Hegman