Showing posts with label wildlife. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wildlife. Show all posts

Friday, June 7, 2019

I Am a Witness to Climate Change—You Should Be, Too





Photo by Luke Stackpoole on Unsplash


Growing up in Texas, I always looked forward to car trips. Texas is big, but its landscapes and ecoregions are diverse. Plants and animals changed with the mileage. I remember seeing much more wildlife on those trips than I do now. 

Scissor tailed flycatchers lined telephone wires by the dozen every few miles. When corn or sorghum fields came close to the road, hundreds of red wing blackbirds swirled in and out of the edges and lounge in the ditches, taking breaks from whatever they were doing inside those rows. Roadrunners unwisely dashed in front of the car—at least several every trip. Which brings up the carnage. There was a lot of road kill. There were foxes, skunks, armadillos, snakes, coyotes, turtles, birds, squirrels, raccoons, foxes, possums, lizards, frogs, you name it. Every half mile or so was a reminder of mortality. 

Sometimes we would be lucky enough to spot a turtle before it got too far across the road and pick it up and move it to a safe spot on the other side. When was the last time that happened to you? Not in a long time for me. I don’t remember helping snakes across the road, though. Driver prejudice, I’m fairly certain. 

Even living in the city, it would be common to see geese flying south for the winter. I would hear them first. You could tell how high they were by the sound. Now, I hardly ever see that. No more fireflies arising from the ditches or woody copses on spring and summer nights. 

I saw rivers of silver in the sky one day. Then it began raining spiders. We ran inside. I remember a biblical invasion of grasshoppers. Huge yellow things that spit brown juice. The power in their legs when they launched from my hand was amazing. Texas horned lizards were an everyday thing for a kid messing around outside. I haven’t seen one in the wild in thirty years. 

I still see the occasional victim of vehicular slaughter, but it is more likely to be a dog or cat than a wild animal. The only thing I see more of now than back then is deer. It’s almost as if we care more about them and have carefully cultivated them so that now there is enough to register as a major percentage of road kill. I guess we don’t care about the rest of the lot. Which is too bad. I kind of miss those silly looking scissor tails. 


I think it is important we remember these things and compare them to our current reality. It is particularly urgent because of climate change. Things will soon start to change faster and faster. I think it is important to convey this information to others and to our children. Think back to when you were a child. What was around then that is missing now? Write it down. We need to remember lest we forget completely, as a society and a civilization, how things are changing—for better or worse. 


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There May Be a Quadrillion Dollars Lying About on the Moon

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A Convergence of Technologies Will Create a New Age of Space Exploration



The Space Habitat Revisited and Revised


























Tuesday, June 19, 2018

A Time Remembered

by Glen Hendrix




I remember cruising the highways as a youth, usually counter-balancing weed, beer, and cigarettes to obtain a complete car/driver gestalt. It was the 70s. As an old person I am required by law to warn you not to do that now as it may result in fines, jail, injuries, and death to you and others. 

Hundreds of scissortails would dot the power lines, their long tails bobbing back and forth for balance in the wind. Roadrunners scampered across the road, amazingly close, but they hardly ever got hit. Occasionally I would have to get out and move a turtle across the road before some asshole smashed it. 

Unfortunately, the machine/animal connection happened too often. Armadillos, skunks, possums, raccoons, coyotes, and snakes were broken and dead nearly every trip. It was a sad thing.

The grain fields, though, with blackbirds and red-wing blackbirds whirling in and out of the edges would affirm that life went on despite the incidental deaths of fellow creatures from speeding hulks of rubber and metal.

The other day I realized I’ve made that trip many, many times now over a period of many years, and it is now different. They are all gone. The scissortails, the blackbirds, the roadrunners, the armadillos, the skunks, the possums, the coyotes, the snakes. They aren’t on telephone lines or in grain fields. They aren’t even dead in or on the side of the road. They are gone. 

As happy as I am to not see them dead in the road, I am not deluded enough to not know what that means. There may still be some back in what few woods I see, but I believe they are mostly gone. I cannot describe to you how I feel about that. To tell you I have to type this through tears does not come close. 

To some who may read this and not understand the ineffable sadness of this loss, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you never experienced that feeling of the abundance of life. That knowledge of woods and skies full of God’s creatures going about their business. I can only hope that someday we can all experience that again.