At the edges of my consciousness, I've been finding myself growing more and more despondent about our decision to move back to Northeast Alabama last August. Jason and I have always been the restless-yet-solitary types, but our year spent on the road between New England and the Mid-Atlantic last year left us both emotionally depleted and craving some semblance of stability.
The West Virginia White (Pieris virginiensis)
is a species of butterfly which is under threat due to habitat fragmentation caused by logging, the spread of the exotic plant, Garlic Mustard (Alliolaria petiolata), and several other factors. It is listed as G3 (Globally Vulnerable).
The soullessness and discordance of urban and suburban areas have, over the years, invariably provoked in me a deep yearning for the vacant, iron-stained roads of the Southeast. I sometimes think that my hypervigilant, easily frazzled self was not built for modern civilizationโor the disharmony it is capable of inflicting upon the natural world. Consequently, I have reveled at any opportunity to hear the deafening drone of dog-day cicadas and the periodic calls of cricket frogs, their parallel symphonies nullifyingโdisallowingโany perceptible fragments of human activities. Moreover, there is some internal equilibrium restored within me when I am met with the unmistakable perfume of fungi and decaying leaves after a rainstorm. Admittedly, after our move northward, I had almost immediately found myself feeling desperately homesick.
Regardless of the turbulence and trauma I had experienced throughout my childhood and adolescence, I had always found refuge in the verdant embrace of Southern Appalachia's forested ridges and valleys. The dappled light and overabundance of wildlife always offered a transformative solitude with a power to silence even the darkest and most intrusive of thoughts my brain could conjure. No matter how far I roamed, it always beckoned. No matter how far into the well of despair I was thrown, it always found a way of extricating me from those depths. It grew within me and alongside me, etching itself into not only my memories but something at a more fundamental level. It has always held so much power over me, drawing me in with an almost thaumaturgic magnetism: "Come home."
Southeastern Crowned Snake (Tantilla coronata)
is a secretive Colubrid snake that has potentially some suffered declines in its numbers due to elimination of its forested habitat.
So why, now that I am back home (and in my element), am I having reservations about our decision to move back?
I kind of feel like Iโve been stuck in really bad dream for several months now. I can remember stepping outside of our camper on unusually warm morning in early March, hoping to relax in my lawn chair and maybe hear some interesting bird calls (or even some early frog calls). Instead, I was met with the reverberations of a logging operation down the road. What started as one morning of annoyance, has turned into month-after-month of mechanical whining, shrieking, and grinding. The incessant logging (on multiple tracts of land with several different owners) became the source of near-daily sensory torture, and it very quickly began to wear on me on an emotional level. The dense woodlands which once silhouetted several of my neighborhood backroads have since been mercilessly pillaged and abandonedโonly wounded and scarred hellscapes left in the wake of bulldozers and logging grinders that seem to have endless appetites.
In addition, as I was writing this post, it was brought to my attention that Alabama Power has proposed to blast a section of Chandler Mountain (a natural area around 40 miles north of Birmingham) in order to build an outdated, low efficiency lake/power storage facilityโwith an egregious oversight of the several confirmed endangered and threatened species and the multiple generations of residents who reside at this location.
It's a difficult subject for me to broach, but our fondest memories and connections to places are not always shared with others. The sum of the forest (the wildflower, the shelf fungus, the salamander, the crow) that the naturalist views as the embodiment of prosperity is often seen by others as an impediment to human progress and a threat to the sterility of what has become the modern household. Even worse, many of those in seats of power routinely regard the natural world as a monetary wellspringโreducing the beautiful complexities of our ecosystems to commodities like lumber, fuel, paper products, or anything on which they can capitalize. To add insult to injury, there seems to be no hesitation in distorting or even downplaying the brutal and enduring effects of these activities. With a system that seeks to deceive and exploit the most vulnerable of us (while disregarding any consequences), it oftentimes feels like we are fighting an uphill battle.
A blurred snapshot of logging in my neighborhood. Just a speck of the damage done already. Between 2001 and 2021, Alabama lost nearly 8 million acres of its forested land. For most wildlife enthusiasts in Alabama, it probably comes as no surprise to us that we are first in biodiversity yet third in endangered and threatened species in the US.
Shaggy-Stalked Bolete (Aureoboletus betula)
is a choice edible mushroom which is commonly found in mixed forests of the Southern Appalachians. It is mycorrhizal with oaks (and other hardwoods).
I realize this post is a difficult read, and it wouldnโt be the first time my externalized discontent was perceived as me being ungrateful. Iโve been encouraged by some to breathe easy, enjoy life while I can, and be appreciative of my โprotectedโ forested acreage (which I realize Iโm privileged to own)โbut I am unable to wholly do so when I am so powerless to preserve my own neighborhood, community, nearby towns, state, and world. I cannot discount the harsh realities any more than I can ignore the sounds of logging equipment that are less than a mile away from me at this moment.
For those of us with eyes that can see and a heart that can feel, the living world is disappearing faster than we can fathom. If home is truly where the heart isโand Mother Nature is our homeโwhat happens when she is defiled, plundered, crushed, and uprooted? How do we fight back when all the odds are against usโwhen that which brought us peace now provokes hopelessness and anguish?
