This Bud's For You: The Unofficial King Of Beer Litter
While kayaking the other morning I spotted a small, dark object poking above the lake surface 100 yards or so ahead, and I was pretty sure it was the head of a turtle until I drew closer and realized the sad truth: just another beer bottle.
With fishing and boating season in full swing I’m finding more debris in the water, as no doubt are many of you who also enjoy paddling and swimming.
As I drew alongside the floating bottle and pulled it aboard, a familiar blue and white label glistened in the sun. Budweiser calls itself the King of Beers, but by my very unscientific survey Bud Light is the King of Beer Bottle Litter. I pick up more of this brand’s cans and bottles in the water and along the road than any other brew.
In fairness to Anheuser-Busch Bud Light is the best-selling beer in the country, so it’s not surprising that more of its cans and bottles seem to wind up in the drink or on the pavement, but at the risk of sounding snobbish I almost never find an improperly disposed of craft beer container. (For the record, I’m not much of a beer drinker and can’t tell the difference between Samuel Adams Boston Lager and Coors.)
Again, I don’t fault the manufacturer for the thoughtlessness of some of their consumers, just as I don’t blame Lay’s for all the soggy potato chip bags I’ve pulled from lakes and ponds, Philip Morris for the abundance of flattened Marlboro packs and cigarette butts tossed from car windows, McDonald’s for all the hamburger wrappers fluttering in the breeze or Dunkin’ Donuts for the cardboard coffee cups discarded on sidewalks.
The fact is despite the growing popularity of recycling, passage of stricter anti-littering laws and efforts by fast-food companies to reduce disposable packaging, slobs still prevail.
I often find old cans and broken bottles when I dig in the garden or plant new trees around the house – vestiges from an era when burying trash in the backyard was an acceptable method of waste disposal.
But by the turn of the 20th century people began to realize they shouldn’t be tossing refuse willy-nilly. Connecticut adopted its first anti-littering law in 1897, when anyone caught throwing nails, tacks, scrap iron or other debris onto the street could be fined $20.
These days there’s an inexplicable $219 fine for littering in the Nutmeg State – a bargain compared to what some other states or the federal government levies.
Litterers who soil U.S. highways or national parks can be hit with a $1,000 fine or a year in prison, whereas tossing a lit cigarette in wildfire season can result in a $10,000 penalty in some western states.
Cigarette butts, incidentally, are reported to be the most prevalent form of litter in the world, with 4.5 trillion discarded annually. I think I’ve seen a few hundred million on my morning runs over the years.
Connecticut is one of only 11 states that require deposits for most cans and bottles, though in my opinion the nickel fee is ridiculously cheap. I’d say, make it a buck and you’ll see far fewer empties floating in ponds or lying on the ground.
It also drives me crazy to see so many people drinking bottled water when most municipalities outside of Flint, Mich., provide save, delicious and cheap water. Invest in a good metal bottle, keep it filled from the tap, and save hundreds of dollars a year, not to mention all the gas and oil it takes to manufacture and transport plastic water bottles.
I’m glad to see most supermarkets now are also charging for plastic bags, another omnipresent blight on the landscape as well as threat to wildlife.
According to one published report, only about 5 percent of the estimated 380 billion plastic bags, sacks and wraps used every year in the United States are recycled. While some progressive municipalities have banned plastic bags – really, how hard is it to shop with reusable bags? – most governments have been too slow to adopt reasonable restrictions. Again, I’d charge customers a buck for a plastic bag – the same amount it costs for a reusable one.
While much litter is discarded maliciously, some also results from carelessness –drivers of pickups who leave debris in the truck bed that blows free in the breeze, boaters whose lunch bags or beverage containers wash overboard, or residents who put their trash out in plastic garbage bags that get shredded by raccoons and stray dogs.
Plastic toys also often find their way into the water, such as the inflatable unicorn I pulled out of the lake the other morning shortly after extracting the floating beer bottle.
This brings me to the last, most important point: There would be a lot less litter if consumers didn’t just recycle, but also “precycled” by purchasing in bulk, when practical, or better yet, doing without.
As Thoreau observed, “Simplify, simplify.”
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