Forest's Chrysalis is a
metaphorical defense against the environmental destruction that continues to
occur in the remaining vulnerable forests and wetlands of the east coast of the
United States. There are two specific
vignettes that stay in my mind: 1998: A Luna Moth caterpillar slowly and
desperately making its way across a hot asphalt parking lot to the shade of
twenty-foot patch of grass and the two remaining trees in an industrial
park.I picked it up and carried it to
the patch of green, but I had very little hope that it would survive there.
2004: A full-grown Hawk Moth helpless
and dying in the fierce August sunshine, lying on the concrete sidewalk at the
entrance to a new Home Depot store.I
saw the wings lifting slowly as people passed by, and went to rescue what I
thought was a small bird.When I saw
what it was, I went to my car and refrigerated the inside with my a/c, then
brought it into the car with me.It
revived and started flying against the windows by the time I could drive to the
back of the store parking lot, where there was a40'x30' stand of 'protected wetland' that had
been spared by the developer.I released
it into the cool green shade, but I knew it would be back at night to hunt the
mosquitoes and gnats drawn by the dusk-to-dawn shining halogen lights, and it
was only a matter of time before the sun caught it again and pinned it,
helpless, to the concrete.
I have
never seen another of the huge caterpillars or bird-sized moths in Maryland
since.They don't survive very well
around asphalt, concrete and light pollution.
Very few
creatures can.
Thinking of
these and other beautiful, rare, vulnerable winged things, I composed and
recorded Forest's Chrysalis in between the beeps, shrieks, shocks and booms of
my neighbors' decision to decimate their property's tiny wetland forest to
expand their house and put in a 'real' yard, with a lawn to mow. My harp vibrated with the
construction engines as I practiced. Almost every microphone I used picked up
on the constant noise.You can listen to a
recording of the daily noise , recorded from inside my house (from two
acres away).My intense grief at the
loss of my forest's privacy and peace, the mourning for the trees that fell,
and the call of the wild things and nature for a pathway out of the
destruction, all went into the metaphorical story of the Faerie Chrysalis.
Small
enclaves of greenery do little to assist wildlife to flourish.All life on earth is mobile, either through
the air or water or across the ground, and all life depends on that free
movement.When humans create 'dead
zones', paving, lighting, poisoning and changing the landscape for their
convenience and comfort, the rest of earth's life has to either go through or
around.Most die. The concept of creating 'wildlife friendly'
zones of hubs and corridors of greenery around suburban and industrial
development is not new, but it depends on homeowners being willing to allow at
least some part of their acreage to go wild, and to be willing to sleep at
night without lighting their property into a halogen imitation of bright,
searing daylight.Unfortunately, most
new homeowners are not interested in this.
Unfortunately,
humans are earth animals, too, and as dependent on the web of life intrinsic in
the earth's rhythms as the trees, birds and deer.What poisons frogs and caterpillars
eventually poisons us as well.
As a human,
I have the benefit of speedy continental mobility.I can temporarily escape the destruction by
moving somewhere else.The remaining
forest and wildlife, though, have no such option.
