I've read claims that wild places no longer exist, that you can't go anywhere without encountering overt signs of human activity. I find those kinds of claims slippery at best — what's overt to their authors might be not all all obvious to many of us; just how long must I go without being reminded that other humans share this place with me; what constitutes wildness; how large is this wild (or not) place about which we're arguing, and so on — but I do acknowledge this: wild places are declining.
Still, some remain. Anyone who's travelled through the fjords of Chile will know that.
[6 December 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 45 mm, ISO 100, 1/60 at f11]
All content © 2012 Pete McGregor
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8 comments:
Not to worry, mass species die offs apply to us as well.
Zhoen, I think that's the most cheerfully-phrased statement I've heard about our coming demise ;^)
What's sad is that the remaining wild places are almost all in extreme environments, very few of the lowland temperate areas where humans like to live. For instance, I'd love to have seen what the Tokyo area river lands were like before humans settled here. It must have been an incredibly beautiful place, with great groups of wild animals and huge beech trees.
Very true, Miguel. Here in Aotearoa we've destroyed most of our lowland forests and with them many of our marvellous birds and other wildlife. For example, the whio (blue duck) I love so much are now found only in the headwaters of remote mountain rivers; formerly they apparently preferred the lowland rivers.
There are even a few wild and desolate places around here (and I'll try to refrain from making flippant remarks about my neighbour's garden, even through it is making me despair).
I can be positive and reflect on just how rapidly an urban garden can revert to wildness.
RR, you're right; entropy does that to gardens (and other things as well — a life, for example).
You're right, too, about finding wild places close at hand. To me, wildness seems much more a quality than a geographic characteristic; finding wildness close by delights me, yet at the same time I feel a kind of loss, a sadness, knowing I increasingly have to notice that quality consciously, rather than finding it in abundance.
When your cousins were much younger they used to spend time crawling around the garden with magnifying lenses. I always remember a four-year old E rushing in to say, 'It's a great big jungle out there!There are secret paths and everything!'
It can be a question of scale.
RR, yes. Robert MacFarlane, in The Wild Places (a much-appreciated gift) had exactly that pointed out to him by his friend Roger Deakin, who showed him a limestone fissure packed with tiny plants and described it as "Fabulously wild".
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