Death In The City
(originally published on my savethewetland.org site)
It’s gone.
That’s right. Gone. The wetland is gone.
A few trees remain, but the vast majority of the wetland is nothing but mud and the scraggy remains of the trees that once stood there. Also gone are the homes of various species that inhabited this place, gone forever so humans can once again blithely go about the business of making money, regardless of the cost.
Under the cover of darkness, in the wee hours of Saturday morning, a crew (terrorists) rolled in with their weapons of mass destruction and basically plowed the place under.
Imagine the scene.
Sleeping soundly, a mother Redwing blackbird is alerted by the sound of human voices. Suddenly there’s the roar of a big Cat, as in a Caterpillar Forest Machine, ripping through the wetland, snapping trees like toothpicks. The 68,000 pound behemoth slowly moves forward, crushing everything in its path, turtles, frogs, rodents, moving ever closer to the mother’s nest.
Panicked and terrified, she can do nothing but cover her babies with her wings and call out.
But to whom?
There’s no one there to help, to stop the vortex of death from moving ever closer until it finally envelops her home.
The nest falls and so do the young. They land, still alive, only to be crushed seconds later as the big Cat moves backward to adjust its trajectory.
The mother has flown to another tree where she waits and waits for a chance to find her young.
But they, and the wetland, are gone.
Standing outside of the newly erected fence, I survey the destruction. It’s eerily quiet. Raindrops fall on my shoulder and roll down my sleeve as I adjust my camera and try to focus. Both the lens and my mind. Traffic whizzes by and a Memphis police car slows as it passes me. The officer gives me a long glance and then turns away.
It looks like a bomb went off. It’s ugly, twisted and contorted. Seemingly devoid of life. Prominent and proudly displayed are a new fence with a sign that says
DANGER
CONSTRUCTION SITE
STAY OUT
No shit, Sherlock.
Further down the fence are more signs. One has an architect’s rendering of what the “new and improved” site will look like. Another lists the names of the responsible parties. Real, bona fide terrorists.
Too harsh? Ridiculous? Not really. People that destroy irreplaceable natural areas via duplicitous, often illegal, commingled arrangements between private enterprise and government are terrorists. They terrorize not only the voiceless, the non-humans that once called that place home, but also the citizens of the community. It’s senseless, unnecessary destruction for profit, where fat cat developers, financiers and select cadre of elite’s benefit at the expense of others.
Rich folks, preparing to get richer, even if it means destroying a non-replaceable, community resource. And of course there’s the politicians, striving daily to establish and cement (literally) their legacy.
You’ll get to see them after the project is completed. They’ll be standing there in all their glory, cutting ribbons, shaking hands and posing for the best camera angles while the media fawns over them.
I hope a flock of Redwing blackbirds flies over and drops a deserved dose of well placed excretions.
So, the wetland is gone. Maybe not forever, though, since the Mississippi might one day reclaim that spot. Perhaps our scar upon the land is only temporary and will be washed away and healed over time. Mother Nature bats last.
What next? The loss of the wetland should be an important lesson to others. Be vigilant. Wary. Know your bioregion and the areas at risk. Start working before the developers and politicos and be a voice for the voiceless. Perhaps through this loss other places can be saved.
The good news is the earth is on our side. One day soon, very soon, the single, crucial and irreplaceable element that makes all of this possible, cheap fossil fuel, will be a thing of the past. Humans will once again learn how to live in harmony with their surroundings or cease to live. We’ll relearn the critical lesson that we’re not the only species in the community, that we’re not ordained and “in charge,” with all other species relegated to some lower, less important position in our illusory hierarchy. The anthropocentric folly that makes this sort of thing possible.
