Armageddon Time

I dug holes today. I planted Sticky Monkey and Goldenrod. I learned again about the importance of our wetlands. "Our" wetlands. That's the piece that stuck with me. As a teacher, when I go out and participate in these educational environmental experiences, I always come away with a good dose of civic pride, and a healthy bit of new information, plus more than just a smattering of guilt.
Did you know that ninety-three percent of the wetlands surrounding the Oakland Estuary have been paved over, filled in, or lost to the ages? Did you know that absent wetlands were one of the major causes for the catastrophic losses of Hurricane Katrina? Did you know that most of he world's oxygen comes from phyloplankton, not trees?
What were we thinking these past one hundred and fifty years? Didn't we know that the Clapper Rail would be nearly extinct if we kept encroaching on their habitat? Have you ever seen a Clapper Rail? I lived here in the Bay Area for fifteen years before I ever saw a Clapper Rail, but now I feel a tremendous responsibility to save these odd little birds and their homes.
And where are those homes? Just down the street from me, in the estuary that leads to the San Francisco Bay. When that hurricane comes, I'll be huddling in my basement, hoping that the wetlands break up the massive storm surge waves - or at least seven percent of them - breathing the last few breaths of phyloplankton oxygen as I feed another mussel to the Clapper Rail who is shivering in the corner of the converted dog carrier next to me. It's a terrifying existence.