Protect What We Love

Of Wild Forests, Kingfishers, and No Kings

I woke this morning from a nightmare of the last great wild trees stacked on their sides in massive log piles, ready to be hauled away on trucks. In their killing was the killing, too, of thousands of beings. Bear. Marten. Fisher. Owl. Woodpecker. Warbler. Wren. Thrush. Salamander. Vole. Snake. Butterfly. Spider. Bee. Trillium. Orchid…

But in this dream, I was also courageous. Fueled by anger, outrage, and grief, I walked right up to those responsible for cutting down the last of the last—leaving a mountainside churned, mangled, and bereft. I called them out for the taking, the greed, and the ravaging of Mother Earth. I spoke of the animals that would go extinct, of the loss of the last wild forests with the oldest, tallest, widest Mother Trees and what that would mean for all —no more rainmakers; no more filtering of water to return to the soil, aquifer, and streams; no more climate refugia; no more capturing and storing carbon at the highest levels by the biggest of trees; and no more beauty.

In this dream, I was not alone. When I rose, others joined me. In the fleeting fragments, I’d like to imagine that the crowd grew and grew and grew. After partaking in the No Kings Day protest in Newport, Oregon (close to where I am house and birdsitting for a couple of weeks), I still feel the good energy of perhaps a thousand fellow humans lining the streets and filling the grass slope in front of City Hall. Across the nation, a record-breaking eight million people protested in cities and towns.

On the streets of coastal Newport near the watery havens of my muse bird, I channeled my inner Belted Kingfisher like never before. Donning a gorgeous head mask—with a dagger beak and punk crest of blue feathers made of fabric—I spread my arms wide. I “flew” along the river of people calling out—“No Kings, Only Kingfishers and Queenfishers!” I’d pause for photos and keep on….flying. There’s something about a beautiful bird mask that gives you anonymity and boldness, like the bird of the hover and headfirst dive.

The wonderful artist Liz Fox

Artist Liz Fox created the kingfisher as part of a growing array of animal head masks —of course there’s a fox! To my astonishment, she gave the kingfisher to me. We’d bonded earlier after she read Halcyon Journey: In Search of the Belted Kingfisher. Then, she’d sculpted six kingfishers on top of a clay replica of my book. I received that marvelous art piece as a gift from artist Ram Papish whose vibrant illustrations grace the book.

Humbled by generosity, I vow to pay gifts forward in writing, speaking, action, and doing my best to show up with kindness. love, and in community. Together, we are like flocks of birds.

This Administration breaks laws, breaks hearts, and is intent on destruction across public lands—roadless areas, last big trees, sagebrush prairies, rivers, wetlands, estuaries—even in places we thought would be safe like our National Parks and National Wildlife Refuges. Wilderness could be next.

We will not let them succeed. I am a Quaker by heritage and believe in nonviolence and peaceful actions. I come from brave ancestors who refused to fight in wars. That doesn’t mean I can’t be outraged. It’s what I choose to do with that emotion. Love wins over greed and cruelty. We must prevail. It’s time for our voices to carry across the winds and river currents like the rattle cry of a kingfisher.

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On April 8th I have the honor of joining amazing writers for Earth Words in Corvallis. As I finalize what readings to share, I find inspiration from the sanctuary where I’m staying near the coast. There are wood ducks…..

The Peace of Wild Things, by Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.