I’ve put off writing this column because it is depressing. Even now, my fingers hesitate over the keyboard as if there might be some other pattern of letters that would be easier to fashion. I try to remain upbeat and positive about nature and the outdoors, but there is a certain reality looming above us all that I can no longer ignore.
In 1962, years before I was born, Rachel Carson published a book called “Silent Spring.” The title was designed to startle people into action by having them imagine springtime without any birds. Carson was a chemist and she understood the dangers of the chemical age that emerged after World War II. Humanity’s ability to invent new compounds had surpassed our understanding of what those compounds might do if they were released into an unsuspecting world.
Carson rang a warning bell and the people of the world responded.
In 1989, during my junior year at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, I wandered into the school store and browsed through a small collection of books on display. One title caught my eye and I reached out and grabbed a copy of, “Where Have All the Birds Gone?” This small paperback, by John Terborgh, discussed the effects of habitat fragmentation on populations of wild birds. For me, the most powerful section of the book was the author’s recollections of the wildlife that he experienced in his own backyard as a child. There was so much to see back then, but as an adult, he noticed that much of it had disappeared.
Terborgh rang a warning bell, but I think that almost no one noticed.
In 2016, the journal “Nature” published a story on the decline of wildlife around the globe. The grim findings were familiar: the Earth’s vertebrate species had fallen by 56 percent over the past 40 years. This is a terrifying number, but it’s not like we hadn’t been warned. The warning bell has been ringing for decades and we’ve been ignoring it because it is uncomfortable to focus on.
Last week, a real maelstrom struck and that bell was replaced with a klaxon. Major news organizations across the country ran a story on the recent decline of bird populations. Since my birth, the number of birds in North America has dropped by about three billion individuals. I don’t like it, but as a birder, I think I’ve noticed this decline. Perhaps other birders out there might agree. However, the really unsettling fact is that three billion is actually a small number.
If you were to go back in time a mere 200 years, you would be able to witness the astonishing sight of a flock of passenger pigeons passing overhead. The most abundant bird in North America at the time, scientists have estimated that there may have been as many as three-five billion of them. By 1912, there was only one passenger pigeon left in existence. By 1913, the species was extinct. We’ve lost three billion birds in the past 50 years, but the extinction of a single species cost us the same number 100 years ago. Now add the extinction of the Carolina parakeet, the great auk, the Eskimo curlew, the Labrador duck, Bachman’s warbler and the ivory-billed woodpecker.
Just try to imagine how many birds there used to be.
Every week, I end my columns with an appeal for you to go outside. Why do I make this appeal? Because you will only notice wild things if you are outside where they live. Once you notice them you may become interested in them. Once you become interested in them you may start to care about them.
If you care about them you might try to protect them.
My greatest fear is that wild things will vanish around a population of humans that don’t even notice it is happening.
So this week I make a new appeal: Donate to an environmental charity. The Sierra Club, the National Wildlife Federation, the World Wildlife Fund, the Nature Conservancy, the Cornell Laboratory of Ornithology, the E.O. Wilson Biodiversity Foundation, 4ocean — the list goes on. You don’t have to donate a fortune, but $20 would be helpful. And remember that membership numbers are just as important as membership dollars. If these organizations have more members, then they may have more power to do good.
I want there to be hope and I think that there may still be a slim chance to turn this trend around, but business, as usual, is not going to save us. All of us must do all we can and we must all do it now.
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 22 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the US Forest Service and the Massachusetts State Parks and currently teaches high school biology and physics. Visit www.speakingofnature.com for more information, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.