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A Little Knowledge...
by Martin Line (Australia)
We were driving through the countryside of Southland, New Zealand, when birds perched on a high-tension power line prompted my question, “Why don’t those birds get electrocuted?”
My father’s answer was concise: “Because they’re not straddling both wires.”
At the age of nine, my father’s answers were not only believed, they were believed to encompass all there was to know on the topic – the pity being, he wasn’t one to expand on his replies.
Perhaps I had a touch of the drama queen about me, but I knew I could use this new knowledge to advantage. Within a week I had assembled a group of my peers from the neighbourhood, saying, “I’ll show you something you won’t forget, I’ll touch a power line without getting electrocuted.”
The tree I climbed was a Monterey cypress – in Australasia such trees, known as macrocarpas, are widely used as wind-breaks. This one had been capped at the top so as not to obstruct two lines passing overhead, well within reach of a child. I have a vivid recollection of looking down on a gathering of about a dozen children huddled in a group, no doubt ready to run off if things went awry.
It was customary for children to wear gumboots in those days, even while climbing trees, but it wasn’t the gumboots that saved me as I stood confidently at the top of that macrocarpa. Without hesitation I took hold of one of the wires, keeping my balance by holding the uppermost branch with my other hand. Nothing happened and I savoured the surprise and wonderment on the faces below.
“Take hold of the other wire,” came a voice from the group. (Did they really want to see me electrocuted?)
Naturally I let go of the first wire before taking hold of the other. Nothing again, and for at least a day I was held in a degree of respect.
Years later I realized that I had grasped telephone wires; they happen to carry very little current. I hope none of the children gathered there dared to repeat my stunning demonstration.
My father’s answer was concise: “Because they’re not straddling both wires.”
At the age of nine, my father’s answers were not only believed, they were believed to encompass all there was to know on the topic – the pity being, he wasn’t one to expand on his replies.
Perhaps I had a touch of the drama queen about me, but I knew I could use this new knowledge to advantage. Within a week I had assembled a group of my peers from the neighbourhood, saying, “I’ll show you something you won’t forget, I’ll touch a power line without getting electrocuted.”
The tree I climbed was a Monterey cypress – in Australasia such trees, known as macrocarpas, are widely used as wind-breaks. This one had been capped at the top so as not to obstruct two lines passing overhead, well within reach of a child. I have a vivid recollection of looking down on a gathering of about a dozen children huddled in a group, no doubt ready to run off if things went awry.
It was customary for children to wear gumboots in those days, even while climbing trees, but it wasn’t the gumboots that saved me as I stood confidently at the top of that macrocarpa. Without hesitation I took hold of one of the wires, keeping my balance by holding the uppermost branch with my other hand. Nothing happened and I savoured the surprise and wonderment on the faces below.
“Take hold of the other wire,” came a voice from the group. (Did they really want to see me electrocuted?)
Naturally I let go of the first wire before taking hold of the other. Nothing again, and for at least a day I was held in a degree of respect.
Years later I realized that I had grasped telephone wires; they happen to carry very little current. I hope none of the children gathered there dared to repeat my stunning demonstration.
