Pavlov

Since I've moved to Flagstaff, I developed a Pavlovian reaction to a once innocuous sound: a helicopter. A whirly-bird in Flagstaff means one of two things: wild fire or a serious medical emergency. As soon as I hear that familiar thump thump I find myself scanning the sky to try to identify the bearer of bad news. Is there a slurry pouch dangling from it? No--it must be a medical helicopter. I wonder what happened. Accident at the Grand Canyon? Serious car wreck? It's strange to me how a helicopter stimulates my fear so much more than a siren. The sound of a helicopter is somewhat sinister. It represents a serious situations. A fire that doesn't threaten structures is generally handled by ground crews. An accident in town is handled by land-based emergency vehicles. A helicopter in Flagstaff is a signal that something is very wrong.

Yesterday, two helicopters collided mid-air less than two miles from my home. Both were emergency medical teams bringing patients to the hospital. All but one of those onboard perished. Details of the accident remain under investigation. A big question on everyone's lips is, "Why didn't they see each other?" I remember when I used to do aerial surveys for eagles and hawks from a small, fixed-wing cessna. On one trip it was just me and the pilot. At one point the pilot pointed off to the left and said, "do you think he sees me?" I looked at the spot to which he pointed. It took a few seconds before I saw it--almost imperceptible--a silver flash. He was still a ways off--but not as far as I would have thought. Trick of the open sky and the position of the planes. It was no big deal, but it definitely made an impression on me. I don't know why these pilots didn't see each other. Maybe there was something distracting them like a mechanical emergency. Maybe each thought the other would move out of the way--sounds stupid, but who knows.

One of the patients was a 26-year old volunteer fire fighter that had been in the Grand Canyon helping to fight a blaze out of control on the north rim. He had a bug bite and was going into anaphylactic shock. They decided to air lift him to Flagstaff airport. Here's a guy that voluntarily risked his life to help fight fires. I wonder how many close calls he'd had fighting fires? I wonder if he knew that what would get him in the end would be an insect bite? It just goes to show you that it could happen any time. Whether you take risks for work or for fun--it may not matter in the end. I guess what I take out of that is that I may as well just take the risks.