If I had to pick one person in my circle of friends to depend on when the grid goes down, it would be Paula Smith. She and Gordon Leisch share a house in Arlington, Va. "You should see our monthly grocery bill, honey," she once told me. "Coffee, flour, sugar—that's about it. And my damn cigarettes, of course." They eat deer, geese, turkeys, about eight kinds of fish. They grow vegetables. Paula puts individual plastic bags around tomatoes as they ripen to keep the squirrels and chipmunks from ruining them. They trap and release marauding raccoons and the occasional fox. Paula usually has a pet wild rabbit around that she feeds and that has learned it's safe near the house. She showed one of them to me once, but only after warning me not to look it directly in the eye. "Freaks 'em out," she said. "And I like my bunny, capiche?" I told her I understood.