Letting Things Breathe.

"Sooner or later, we will have to recognise that the Earth has rights, too, to live without pollution. What mankind must know is that human beings cannot live without Mother Earth, but the planet can live without humans."

-Evo Morales

How to find a bog.

Nobody pays me to find anoxic sludge bogs.

I just do. I whistle at crows, and then I walk where they fly. Somehow, I keep finding bogs. Sometimes, I also find long-hidden artifacts of humans' recent history.

How to navigate a bog.

When I happen upon a bog or a swamp, I think something like: "Hmm. This is a nice swamp. I like swamps." And then I leave. I have seen Shrek, too.

This time, as I was leaving, something called me back.

"Bloop."

I spun around, hoping to catch a glimpse, having made note of some previous strange bird behavior while following my crow employers. Nothing. So I resumed my previously planned exit.

"Bloop."

I spun around again.

"Bloop." This time, the culprit allowed me to catch a glimpse before retreating to its hiding space in a tangle of fallen trees: a grackle.

To my knowledge, this is not a typical sound for grackles to make, though they are known to mimic their environment in fascinating ways. (See: Grackle Mimicry)

I do not yet have good rapport with the grackles. While tentative, I decided to entertain the idea that these crows, and this grackle may have been trying to show me something. So I crept forward, minding my step through the muck and the mud, as I had not planned to trek through a bog on this day.

"Bloop."

Another step.

"Bloop."

Not from the grackle, but from the mud underfoot. Gas was being forced up and through with each step that I took. Think of this as the Earth experiencing localized indigestion. Each trepidatious step, placed with all the weight of an uneasy cat seeking to slink through a space which was ready to sink - this time, sincerely - triggered a burp. Like a person, with indigestion, pounding on their chest to alleviate built-up gas.

Or something like that.

How to get to a bog.

How did I even get here in the first place?

What an odd thing to ask. I look around me. I remember that I followed crows off the trail in a county park, local to a former industrial hotspot. One plus one.

For a time, we prospered behind the bulwark of industry. I am not ungrateful for what industry did for me - it laid us a bedrock - a framework on which to build and refine. I have questions - respectful ones - for any forebear who would be proud of the way things are now. All talons, hooves, and hooks aside, any author who'd had a hand (or a few dozen sets of dozens of sets of them) in penning this sketchy setup would owe it to the rest of us to deliver a powerful punchline. Look at direwolves, and then look at pugs. Look at the lion, and then the housecat. Look at the sheep, and then the lamb.

As all ages leave an imprint on history, the age of industry left behind a footprint. A blueprint, certainly. Also a colossal fossil footprint, unlike any nature has yet seen. So colossal is this footprint that we can still feel its thud, echoing through time around us. Think about the last extreme weather event you experienced. This fossil's record is still not settled. It's still up for debate. It's setting itself in the sinking stones of industrial-grade footpaths beneath each of our feet - leaving shifting sand and infirm muck where solid stone should stand - what kind of legacy is that to leave? Remember, where we overlook, nature still sees. Anyone figured out dark matter yet?

I don't know about you, but this pug's ancient ancestors left behind a hoofprint. Did yours leave you a pawprint? It could be green, it could be blue, it does live within you. I don't mean to be boastful, but this bullshitter's horseshoed hoofprint was much simpler than that fossil's footprint. It didn't have to beat its chest and roar. You just knew it was there.

I grew up around these parts, so I know that the local county parks system has long struggled to stay ahead on cleanup efforts. Whether the blame here lies on oversight, underfunding, past decades of public misuse, or a cyclical compounding of those factors - I do not care to say - blame matters little today. What matters is that this occurred, and that it left the Earth hurt. And that we can shift the currents of unwritten history. Like a tattoo over an old scar. You know - be our own Band-aid?

How to weave a tale.

It may seem like I'm tugging at loose ends pinned on the back of a donkey's ass, but if you'll stick with me, I promise you can show me how to connect the dots.

What were you about to remind me of? Oh, yeah, I was looking around me.

I observed proximal erosion leading to an extra steep drop, threatening nearby tree roots, resultant of left-behind, abandoned drainage systems, now blocking nature's expertly made artisanal green tech drainage systems. How many Dale Earnhardt-fast laps of 10,000 Hours does Mother Earth have to do on humanity before this species figures out this cosmic mystery: "Where on the DKE slope are we?"

How to do something about it.

I was going to sit here and keep writing, but tonight is the night of a reclamation moon. I'm choosing to observe it by gently guiding logs into a swamp, instead. This is called "exercising agency." You know what that means.

I will make a map tool one of these days. Until then, if you want to help, walk around near you. You'd be surprised at how many anoxic sludge pits you find, especially if you do something totally wild, like follow the crows. Oh, and pick up non-biodegradable trash you see, too. There's a whole post that needs to be made about mosquito blooms and the cyclicality of the water cycle. On the microclimate level, every piece matters. Yeah, someone should have picked up after themselves. Yeah, someone should be picking it up. We have a parks system. A lot of stuff is sludged up here, stretched thin there. You don't need me to over-explain. Make notes of spaces which are becoming degraded. Try to help nature sort itself out. I might be crazy, but it seems like nature is sending us signals. If you decide to attempt this yourself, use your legal wits: don't interfere with anybody's legally-protected domains or anything, but maybe see about long-forgotten spaces. Consider your own safety, and build with sustainable structural integrity in mind. Ladies love natural stability and consistency.

What happens when we don't let things breathe?

I'm going to listen the spring moon whisper songs to herself while I shift a few handfuls of nature's weights around.

If you haven't already, go see the visual companion for this post! Much of the content from here is meant to synergize with what you can find there.