Vanishing Treasures: inspiring tales of extraordinary creatures
A common swift, in its lifetime, flies about 1.2 million miles; enough to fly to the moon and back twice over, and then once more to the moon. For at least ten months every year, it never ceases flying; sky-washed, sleeping on the wing, it has no need to land.
The American wood frog gets through winter by allowing itself to freeze solid. Its heart slows, then stops altogether: the water around its organs turns to ice. Come spring, it thaws, and the heart kick-starts itself spontaneously into life. We still don’t understand how the heart knows to start beating.
At sea, dolphins whistle to their young in the womb; for months before the birth, and for two weeks afterward, the mother sings the same signature whistle over and over. The other dolphins are quieter than usual in those weeks, in a bid not to confuse the unborn calf as it learns its mother’s call.
So begins Katherine Rundell’s extraordinary new book, “Vanishing Treasures: A Bestiary of Extraordinary Endangered Creatures.” Ms. Rundell profiles 23 endangered animals. Each profile leaves the reader in awe at the vastness of nature.
Two points come through clearly:
First, nature is almost infinitely complex, with animals ingeniously adapted to live in, and fill, specific niches in the world.
Second, our understanding of the complexities of this web of life is painfully limited.
These realizations can lead to a deep humility about how we live our lives.
We have barely begun to study our dependence on non-domesticated animals. When a fatal fungal disease called white-nose syndrome began to wipe out bat colonies in the early 2000’s, it gave researchers an opportunity to study the effect on humans of a population collapse in wildlife. The journal Science recently published a study that linked the sudden loss of bat colonies to a spike in infant mortality.
Bats are beneficial to farmers because they feed on insects that would otherwise damage crops. In U.S. counties where white-nose syndrome decimated bat colonies, farmers compensated by using more insecticides than they had used before the bats died off. In those counties where insecticide use increased, infant mortality increased 8 percent, while infant mortality in counties with healthy bat populations remained level. A spike in environmental toxins explained the spike in infant mortality, but the real reason more babies died was the disappearance of bats.
This is just one example of the interconnectedness that we are only beginning to appreciate. But with nature so vast and our society so complex, what can one individual do?
There are certainly actions we each can take:
Instead of poisoning our way to a green lawn, we can practice coexistence by avoiding insecticides, herbicides, and rodenticides. We can give the insects back to the birds and the bats. We can give the rodents back to the owls and the foxes.
We can leave the leaves where they fall to provide shelter for insects during the winter—insects that will be food for the birds we eagerly await each spring.
We can turn off outdoor lights at night to protect nocturnal animals and migrating birds, especially in spring and fall.
When we drive, we can drive slower, particularly on roads through wild areas. Simply slowing down can reduce wildlife collisions.
These actions may seem small and insufficient. But they are acts within our control. They are acts we can take now. They are acts of love and gratitude to the Earth.
And if you need inspiration, you could do worse than perusing Vanishing Treasures. As the author Ms. Rundell told the New York Times, “The unifying thread is that our world, as chaotic and burning as it is, demands our astonishment because of its beauty, its generosity and its intricate variety. It’s so colossal that to not salute it would be a failure of imagination, perception and intelligence.”
She continued: “Pay Attention. You owe the world your attention. You owe the world your love.”