If you figure this out, please explain it to the rest of us

There are some puzzles that are best suited for coffee shops. This is where most of the world's problems are solved and where questions with no real answers are asked.

I've been wrestling with a few topics of my own recently. Maybe you already know the answers. That happens sometimes, when we get bogged down on something and can't see a simple solution, but everyone around us can explain it to us.

Take those elk over yonder in the Ozarks. These animals were imported in a government-funded effort to "restore" the elk population. We are told that elk herds are native to our state. Apparently, that's all we taxpayers need to know by way of explaining why we are paying for foreign elk to take up residence in our woods and glens.

But here's an interesting fact that caught my attention a few days ago: These newcomers are freeloaders. The state conservation folks pointed out -- with some glee, it appears -- that the new elk (elks?) are getting up to three-fourths of their food by foraging. The rest of their nourishment comes from feedlots. A feedlot is where human beings put out food for animals.

Four-legged animals and two-legged humans are a lot alike when it comes to food habits. If someone gives you a bunch of food, how incentivized are you to go grub up your own dinner?

My guess is the elk newcomers will continue to scarf up whatever we put out at the feedlots. And when we stop putting out food for them, they will start migrating. Out of Missouri. Until someone has the bright idea to bring in more foreign elk to "restore" the balance of nature.

Meanwhile, the government has, in its wisdom, decided to cut food-stamp benefits. Let this be a warning to the elk herds. See what happens when you eat free food?

Another topic of some coffee-shop interest is the U.S. Postal Service.

I know a return to Real Time from daylight saving time means it gets dark really early. But I don't think the time change is the only reason I have to use a flashlight to get my mail. It arrives close to 5:30 p.m. these days. On clear nights, Venus is the most prominent sky feature while I cross the street to our mailbox.

When there is enough light to see up and down the street, I use my neighbors' mailboxes as indicators of when mail has been delivered. Almost every day at least one of my neighbors mails something and puts up the flag on his mailbox. If the flag is still up when I go out, I know I don't have to walk all the way down my drive and across the street to check.

Now that it is dark when the mail arrives, I have no choice but to go all the way to my mailbox not knowing whether the mail carrier has been by.

Here's what I find fascinating: Everyone I talk to about this says his mail is arriving after dark, too. This doesn't seem to fit into a neat pattern of random statistics. Surely, I say, someone gets his mail when it's daylight. Or do the carriers not start delivering until the sun goes down? Just asking.

My solution to nighttime mail forays is fairly simple. Instead of going to the mailbox at night, I get up at daybreak and go across the street to get my mail, which was delivered the night before. That's OK. At least I can now claim that I get my mail before 7 a.m. Even on Sundays.

If you have already chewed on these topics at your coffee group and still have no good answers, remember you can still refer your questions to a committee. Or hire a consultant.

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.