What an eloquent, beautifully wise, poignant and thoughtful essay this is! And it is also an emphatic act of courage to acknowledge our vulnerability in the face of the loss & extinction that we have wrought upon ourselves, due to our extreme hubris.
Very moved by this piece, Troy. And a number of years ago, I lived in Monterey for a short period of time, so it evoked that memory for me as well. Such an exquisitely beautiful area.
Gorgeous piece, Troy. I, too, am glad for this introduction to the murre and for the reminder of just how much is being lost while too many of us look the other way.
May we all take your request to remember and act to heart, my friend.♥️♥️
Thank you, Nancy! I wish to do more, but I’m realizing I have to use the only thing I know I’m good at: loving what I love, so others might begin to love them too.
I experience a permanent low range anxiety about our direction of travel, and as you say Troy, the best way to tackle this is through action, by doing something, anything really, that engenders a feeling of engagement and empowerment, almost ownership.
There’s a strange loss of identity as the world crashes around us. Doing something restores some of that identity, a little bit for me anyway.
Thanks for the thoughtful writing Troy. Much appreciated
My sadness comes from seeing so many fires and not knowing which to try and extinguish first. Or whether or not the fire was inevitable and nothing will change until we are long gone. I wish it wasn’t his way. It didn’t have to be. There is so much to love about this planet. I’ll never understand how we became so numb to the suffering we’ve collectively caused.
I read about this the other day. Thank you for expanding on it Troy. We've lost so many precious species. There is so much at stake with our planet. It's hard...
It’s so hard and I wrestle daily with the waves of sadness and anger it causes my heart. All I know how to do is love what I love and hope that can be enough in the end.
Thank you, Troy for introducing me to the Common Murre. Look at that beautiful line, white or black, as if each chick were gently held at birth by the breeding adult , a bird toe dipped in ink to draw a fine line. All I could think of was my ‘friends’ at camp, the ‘Far From Being’ Common Loon ,one of my favorites. (Listed in ‘My Personal Archives of Nature’ the book ).
“I dismissed my spiritual experience for a word some two-hundred-year-old ghost had tacked onto the name of a miraculous being …”
I have previously had this conversation with myself, boorish orthnothologists of the 1800s tasked with labeling birds with genus species names.
“Hey George , look at this one over here, white and black feathering , duck-like, looks similar to that other one ,we’ll call it The Common… yeah, write that down , next…”
“…the common human…”Who will be left to list us on the endangered species list. No one left to record our genus species name in a book . No one left to read it; A Field Guide to Extinction.
Oh gosh, A Field Guide to Extinction is a sad, but apt title to the story we are in. I too love the “common loon”, but then again, I may actually be one… Thank you for the love and for echoing back my favorite line in the whole piece. I hope you have the loveliest weekend, Lot!
Thank you , Holly. Sadly, I didn’t even think of it until I started replying, I thought the same thing as I was writing it, haunting. On the brighter side, Don’t you just love learning about a new bird!
What an eloquent, beautifully wise, poignant and thoughtful essay this is! And it is also an emphatic act of courage to acknowledge our vulnerability in the face of the loss & extinction that we have wrought upon ourselves, due to our extreme hubris.
Thank you Troy. 🧡
Thank you for taking the time to read this one, Jayasree. Our living world is trying to speak to us and it feels like too few are listening.
Very moved by this piece, Troy. And a number of years ago, I lived in Monterey for a short period of time, so it evoked that memory for me as well. Such an exquisitely beautiful area.
I’m so happy you were transported back to that special place. I love it there, and hope to return one day soon.
Gorgeous piece, Troy. I, too, am glad for this introduction to the murre and for the reminder of just how much is being lost while too many of us look the other way.
May we all take your request to remember and act to heart, my friend.♥️♥️
Thank you, Holly! Wishing you a peaceful Sunday.
The perfect antidote to human indifference to the fate of our creatures on our planet: to acutely observe, to care deeply, and to articulate.
Thank you, Nancy! I wish to do more, but I’m realizing I have to use the only thing I know I’m good at: loving what I love, so others might begin to love them too.
Thank you Troy, insightful and clear, my heart hurts from reading and feeling this. Thank you for this wisdom.
Thank you for taking the time to read about our murres, Elena. May we find a way through this suffering for all sentient beings.
I experience a permanent low range anxiety about our direction of travel, and as you say Troy, the best way to tackle this is through action, by doing something, anything really, that engenders a feeling of engagement and empowerment, almost ownership.
There’s a strange loss of identity as the world crashes around us. Doing something restores some of that identity, a little bit for me anyway.
Thanks for the thoughtful writing Troy. Much appreciated
My sadness comes from seeing so many fires and not knowing which to try and extinguish first. Or whether or not the fire was inevitable and nothing will change until we are long gone. I wish it wasn’t his way. It didn’t have to be. There is so much to love about this planet. I’ll never understand how we became so numb to the suffering we’ve collectively caused.
I read about this the other day. Thank you for expanding on it Troy. We've lost so many precious species. There is so much at stake with our planet. It's hard...
It’s so hard and I wrestle daily with the waves of sadness and anger it causes my heart. All I know how to do is love what I love and hope that can be enough in the end.
Thank you, Troy for introducing me to the Common Murre. Look at that beautiful line, white or black, as if each chick were gently held at birth by the breeding adult , a bird toe dipped in ink to draw a fine line. All I could think of was my ‘friends’ at camp, the ‘Far From Being’ Common Loon ,one of my favorites. (Listed in ‘My Personal Archives of Nature’ the book ).
“I dismissed my spiritual experience for a word some two-hundred-year-old ghost had tacked onto the name of a miraculous being …”
I have previously had this conversation with myself, boorish orthnothologists of the 1800s tasked with labeling birds with genus species names.
“Hey George , look at this one over here, white and black feathering , duck-like, looks similar to that other one ,we’ll call it The Common… yeah, write that down , next…”
“…the common human…”Who will be left to list us on the endangered species list. No one left to record our genus species name in a book . No one left to read it; A Field Guide to Extinction.
Oh gosh, A Field Guide to Extinction is a sad, but apt title to the story we are in. I too love the “common loon”, but then again, I may actually be one… Thank you for the love and for echoing back my favorite line in the whole piece. I hope you have the loveliest weekend, Lot!
Oh, Lor. A Field Guide to Extinction is an apt but haunting title.
And I loved the way you describe the murre - a bird toe dipped in ink. I’m glad Troy introduced them to the both of us. ♥️
Yes, dipped in ink flew off the screen for me too. Such beautiful poetry.
Thank you , Holly. Sadly, I didn’t even think of it until I started replying, I thought the same thing as I was writing it, haunting. On the brighter side, Don’t you just love learning about a new bird!
I do!!
Who indeed Lor? 😔