Birds have returned

As I walk across the creek over the red footbridge on the way to my special spot, I notice a difference in my surroundings—birds chirping, singing and whistling. I don’t remember hearing many noises last week, except two or three geese honking loudly. It is a pleasant surprise to hear such a diversity of sounds on the sunny, yet chilly morning. I turn left after crossing the bridge and begin walking up the dirt—now muddy—path. On my left, to my sheer delight, I see two blue jays hanging out on the thin branches of a bare tree. They are restless though, and quickly fly across the still and frozen pond up the path and a bit to my left. They are incredibly vocal and sing to each other as they fly off together.

On my right there is a steep bare tree-covered hill, which I recall leads up to the Deerfield Gold and Tennis Club. A few summers ago a friend and I, curious about where the hill led, hiked up the hill making our own path as we struggled through pricker bushes and overgrown shrubs and trees. After climbing for a while, we finally reached a clearing at the top and made our way through one last obnoxious patch of pricker bushes. In front of us was the precisely manicured vast green space of a golf course.

After talking in class about fertilizers used on lawns being a huge cause of the algae problems in lakes and bays, namely the Chesapeake Bay, I start to wonder about the fertilizers the golf club uses to keep the grass incredibly perfect looking. The fertilizers we pour on our grass wash into rivers, which inevitably dump into lakes. The nutrients in fertilizers stimulate algae growth in the form of plankton blooms. When the algae dies it uses even more oxygen, which asphyxiates the fish and other organisms. As I sit on my rock looking out over the partially frozen creek, I begin thinking about how much fertilizer from the golf club had run off the grass, down the steep hill and into the creek over the years. Where is that fertilizer now? How many ecosystems have been disrupted, or worse, killed because of the runoff of fertilizer and other chemicals? Cleaning up streams and rivers, in my mind, now seems to be a much more difficult and complex task than I once imagined.

Thinking about how obsessed Americans are with having pristine looking lawns, I began to think about a point about carbon and methane emissions raised by one of the panelists from the “International Politics of Global Climate Change.” He explained that there is a monumental difference between “luxury emissions” and “survival emissions,” and that western nations must not and cannot use uncertainty as a cloak for inaction. He claimed it is ridiculous to use the excuse that countries with high methane emissions—mostly poor nations—should focus on reducing methane output before countries with high carbon emissions—wealthy nations—should focus on their reductions. Fertilizer on lawns is a luxury and is not needed for community survival. Essentially, in order to reduce harmful carbon emissions, we must change the way we’re developing as a nation.

The creek is very different today—upstream water appears to be mostly frozen over with a very thin layer of ice. Near the dam, the ice is much more patchy, and my skepticism and curiosity prompts me to toss a small rock out on to the ice. The rock hits the patch of ice, slides about 5 feet off the edge and into the unfrozen water. The water still flows beneath the ice, because it rushes over the dam just as it had last week.

I slowly stand from the rock on which I sit, contemplating. I turn to leave and see a handful of small birds dancing around from bush to bush. I begin to walk downstream along the muddy path, and on my right see the two blue jays again. On the short, maybe quarter of a mile, walk down the path to the footbridge, I see at least two-dozen birds. Many are in trees, some are hiding in bushes, and others dance across the path, while some fly off and out of my sight. In less than a week, to my pleasure, the creek is becoming full of visible—and audible—life again. Although, I can’t help but hope the lifeless looking trees will start to bud soon.