REPORTER HITS TINY CORN FIELD DURING POT SEIZURE

A Word In Edgewise

Gripping a navy Stetson with two hands, and using it as a shield to protect
myself from corn husks that paw at my face, I stumble forward awkwardly, my
feet laden with mud and my nose burning with the pungent, skunk-like stench
of fresh-picked marijuana.

It's almost 3 p.m. Friday and I'm about a kilometre from Concession 2 East
in Tiny Township, struggling through a field of corn - too thick to act as
a decent maze - with three OPP officers.

Seven-foot stalks are weaving back and forth, their rotting husks thumping
my head and body, while smaller ones trip up my stride.

It's the first marijuana seizure I have experienced as a reporter and, as
it turns out, the first of the year for the Southern Georgian Bay
detachment of the OPP. Constables Steve Gray, Peter Leon, and Dave
Desroches have ripped out 35 pot plants by their roots.

Its heady reek assaults my nostrils but the crop is thrown over the
shoulders of the officers, nonetheless. In a field of dull yellows and
browns, the green plants are vivid and stain the officers' hands and dark
blue uniforms, leaving behind the acrid smell.

It is Leon's OPP-issued hat I clutch in front of me to fend off the stalks
as we trek through the corn crop which housed the grow-op locations (three
had already been harvested by the growers), an open field, and then a
second corn field, until we reach a weathered barn and three police cruisers.

We trudge in procession - two cops, one reporter, and another cop bringing
up the rear. I plan it this way because I'm afraid if I wipe out and they
don't notice, this seizure could easily turn into a search-and-rescue mission.

The sky is light blue with hazy clouds drifting across, showing no signs of
the earlier storm that knocked out power to most of Midland. But the wind
is relentless in the open field and cuts through my windbreaker.

This seizure recovered about $35,000 worth of pot, somewhat less than the
initial estimate of about 100 plants. I'm wondering if all this effort is
worth it for less than three dozen plants and, once we're in Leon's
cruiser, I ask him if he's disappointed.

"Not at all," he grins. "The way we look at it, it's 35 plants that won't
make it to the streets."

I'm not sure if it's the exercise, adrenaline rush or the result of walking
behind the freshly picked pot for half a kilometre but I grin back, just a
little lightheaded.