Terrouge Magazine
Guest Editorial: The Birds
I would like to take a moment to speak about something very dear to me: the birds.
As all of you probably know, on April 20, an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico had a terrible accident. An explosion sank the structure, killing eleven workers and causing the pipe that lead to the surface to break. This break has caused oil to gush into the waters of the Gulf: anywhere from 20,000 to 70,000 barrels a day.
While the loss of any human life is lamentable, the implications of this disaster are much larger, much less localized. In fact, they’re likely to affect the whole of the nation more than any disaster we’ve seen our generation.
As a lifetime resident of Midwestern America, I’ve always been far-removed from disaster. True, we’ll get an occasional tornado, and the Great Flood of 1993 was no picnic (almost every county that bordered the Mississippi river was completely submerged), but even that was different. With a flood, you know that the worst will hit, and then in a few days, the waters will recede. And, unlike most disasters, I was able to do even a small amount to help— I helped fill sandbags.
This is in stark contrast to how I felt after Hurricane Katrina. Then, I felt a profound helplessness. I was young and broke, far enough removed from the disaster to be unable to help. It left a bad taste in my mouth to watch as most of Louisiana collapsed, then a growing sense of pride as good, honest people worked hard to clean up and rebuild.
That bad taste? It’s back.
Now, as I mentioned above, many of you know that I like birds. My first character on the ROC was a bird— Shytalon from the HAWM (and the RFF). Every survivor contest character I’ve written is a bird, and my next writing project, which debuts this issue of Terrouge, is narrated by my RV5 character, Damask. A robin.
Those of us who grew up in the eighties probably remember seeing pictures of the aftermath of the Exxon Valdez oil spill. Even if it was before our time, the imagery of that spill was seen throughout the news for years afterward. If you didn’t see them... Valdez was horrible. Shorebirds would get covered in a thick, viscous black that would ground them. Crews would have to scrubs birds with dish soap, basically. And they knew that releasing them into the wild would more than likely mean having them show up again, covered in oil, since cleaning a spill takes so long. The arctic ecosystem took over a decade to recover.
As important as the arctic ecosystem is, it is nowhere near as fragile as our wetlands.
Now, I wouldn’t enjoy going to a wetland. There’s not really a “floor” as we think of the ground. The grasses and reeds hold together a thick mud beneath the surface that, if you tried to step in, would likely sink you past the knee. While this is useless for us, it is perfect for small things. Shrimp, fish, and crabs spawn there— their young are much safer in the close grasses of the marsh. Birds, then, use what ground they can find for their nests, since it’s always preferable to have a food source nearby. Everything lives in a balance. Too much water means bigger fish can get in and eat the young sea life, and there would be no place for nests. Too little water is just as dangerous— the birds would be much more vulnerable with land predators able to access their nests, and the food source would be gone, as well. Because of this seemingly-perfect balance, the wetlands are not only home to a great many birds, but they are one of the key stopping points in migration.
I realize that when we think of migration, we think of geese. Now, I’ll tell you secret. As much as I like birds, I hate geese. They’re aggressive and belligerent. Not quite the pest of the European Starling (the best way to get a birder, or bird enthusiast, to foam at the mouth is to mention Starlings), but not my favorite birds. However, geese are far from the only migrating bird. For instance, Pip of TED2 was a plover. Four species of plover alone migrate through the Gulf of Mexico. Their favorite stop along the way? The gulf marshes. And some common birds that we all would recognize, like the Oriole, also use the Gulf as a rest stop.
For the Valdez spill we had cleanup options once the oil reached the shore. They weren’t great, or precise, but a beach can be cleaned, in the end. A marsh cannot. Because of the precarious nature of the reeds, the tools needed to clean the marsh, and the people to man those tools, would break the very marsh apart.
So, like I mentioned above, hopelessness. You can’t clean it. You can barely contain it. And, while I was hoping the leak would have been stopped by the publication of this editorial— apparently we can’t stop it.
But I’m not writing this to lay blame or hate or vitriol. There are other, more appropriate outlets for that. I’m here on behalf of the birds.
I immediately faced a dilemma, however. Since I am too poor to donate money, and I have too many responsibilities to donate time, how on earth could I justify asking others to do that? Especially since I can remember that helplessness— and either not having the means or not having the ability to help directly (as much of the ROC is still high school— or college-aged, this second part is especially important).
To my point. I’m asking for help. And, I’m offering as a reward the only talents I can realistically offer (though, I suppose if someone really needs a research assistant…).
If you can show me that you have directly assisted relief efforts, a screenshot after you donated— or a photo of mailed aid (in monetary or hair format— odd as the second sounds, Matter of Trust has made it a viable aid option), then I’ll allow you to exert direct control over Twelve Seasons’ Stories. You can either request a specific story for Damask to tell, or ask for your character to be included in Twelve Seasons’ Stories.
However, I know that I don’t have the money to donate, and I know many salons/barber shops are not currently donating hair to be used in oil booms. So, for those of you who cannot directly aid the effort, there is another way. Relate to me in either photograph or anecdote form some way you are cutting energy use. Of course, it is less fuel consumption that directly affects the amount of oil used— and from there the amount drilled. However, any cut in energy use will have positive implications on our environment, if only to keep a small amount of trapped carbon trapped. Where it does the most good for our air and soil.
For this contribution, no matter how small, I’ll compose a Damask sonnet for a character of your choice. You can choose the format of the sonnet: Shakespearean or Petrarchan— or you can choose to have a Damascian verse done (2 more lines, but fewer syllables).
I realize it’s not much, but the point isn’t to change the course of the world from our little segment of the internet. Think of it as a statement. We might not be able to clean off a bird ourselves, but between the lot of us, we might keep a couple more from the spill, next time.
(All photos/anecdotes can be sent via forum PM or to damaskrobin@gmail.com— and you don’t need to include yourself in any photos, just what you’ve done.)