Sequela: Nature Poems in Response to Climate Crisis

Sequela: Nature Poems in Response to Climate Crisis

by David Rice

Art by Tex Buss

Tanka is a lyrical poetic form written in Japan for the past twelve-hundred-plus years and by English-language poets for about a hundred years. It aims to crystallize emotional responses to specific perceptions and often includes a link-and-shift somewhere in its five lines. 

dawn
three coyotes watch me
and a thrush sings
could be the last century 
— we can’t go back

Adding prose allows the poet to expand the context of the short poem. I have written a tanka prose book, “Sequelae”, that looks at our responses to the climate crisis. Tex Buss’s painting is on the cover, and the book also includes nine of her bird paintings.


Room For Improvement

If we were to change our climate course, who would steer? The wealthiest five-percent, who use thirty-five percent of the carbon, are on cruise control. Those who lack resources are just trying to stay on the road. Can those of us in the middle grab the wheel and turn us off the super-sized highway?

a woodpecker hammers but
that telephone pole
is no longer a tree
how do we drill
beneath our daily routines?

Lost Bird: Reward

Mid-1950s, snow on the ground, and one morning a flock of Evening Grosbeaks in our backyard. The bird book promised warblers in spring. Back then, climate change was for geologists, extinction for dinosaurs.

the global thermometer
cardinal red
we’re goldfinch
so pleased with our song
we can’t stop

Money, fittest of all survivors, always flies. The oil barons could leave some in the ground, but depending on alpha predators to nurture their prey for the common good is a bad bet. Still, I’ve got to put my chips down . . . on green.

old jigsaw puzzle
a robin hidden
in a leafed-out oak
I must keep looking
for the lost piece  

The book also contains four prose birding pieces. 

I can close my eyes and see the Short-eared Owl perched on the standing four-foot, broken-off tree trunk in the middle of the meadow as twilight fades to night. Then it’s another year, and I see the full-moon-lit meadow, where magic is afoot and anything is possible.

I’ve spent six months here, over a forty-year period, backpack camping at Snag Lake. These trips were Golden Gate Audubon Society birding trips I co-led with Robin Pulich. The tiny lodgepole pines have advanced on the meadow from the forest, and then have died when a heavy snow-melt year submerged the meadow in two feet of water.…
A Day in the Life of a Climate-Friendly Birder

A Day in the Life of a Climate-Friendly Birder

By Joyce Mercado

We all love observing and identifying birds. What joy birds bring us! We naturally want to protect what we love. With that said, climate change is a big threat to birds. When we use fossil fuels like coal, oil, and natural gas for energy, we release carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. This excess carbon dioxide acts like a heat-trapping blanket, warming our air, land, and sea. A change in our climate results in a movement of food supplies for birds, a disruption of established migratory patterns, and a loss of critical habitats that serve as breeding and feeding grounds. Audubon’s research shows that two-thirds (389 out of 604) of North American bird species are at risk of extinction from climate change. 

Shorebirds at Elsie Roemer – Rick Lewis

The good news is that science also shows that if we act now, we can help improve the chances for 76% of species at risk. What can one birder do to help protect the climate and thereby help protect our feathery friends? Climate change can seem to be an overwhelming challenge, but there is a lot birders can do individually to protect the climate.

Let us look at a day in a birder’s life. You are planning a trip with a friend to go birding. After your cup of bird-friendly coffee (check out Golden Gate Bird Alliance’s bird-friendly coffee club for an easy way to buy shade-grown organic beans), the first thing to sort out is transportation. Perhaps you can bike or walk to a favorite birding spot for a zero-emissions trip, if it is close enough. If that is not feasible, carpooling with your friend cuts trip emissions in half. Even better if one of you has an electric vehicle. You have recently checked your tire pressure to improve mileage by as much as three percent. And you are not hauling around a bunch of stuff in your vehicle that you do not need on a regular basis, since that hurts gas mileage. 

Reusable Sandwich Bags

Pack your lunch and snacks in a reusable lunch bag with reusable silicone baggies or beeswax wrap. The less single-use stuff we use the better, because all consumer goods generate emissions in their manufacture, shipping, and disposal. The most climate-friendly lunch will be mainly plant-based, since fruits, vegetables, grains, nuts, legumes, bivalves, and small ocean fish produce less emissions than meat, dairy, or other seafood products.

Lights out for Larry: The Burden of Brightness on Birds

Lights out for Larry: The Burden of Brightness on Birds

Two weeks ago, a common blue bird disappeared from the city of San Francisco.

You know the bird.

Credit: Rulenumberone CC License

The one soaring with its upturned belly, migrating through the digital space. I guess its name was Larry.

Back in 2012, when Martin Grasser, Todd Waterbury and Angy Che began designing the twitter logo, Larry, they wanted the bird to feel less like an individual artist’s interpretation, and more like a system of “overlapping circles and connections”.

This blog is about the overlapping circles, where social media meets ego, where visibility and convenience meets moderation and safety, where artificial light meets the dark star-studded sky and migrating birds meet our urban cities. This blog piece is about Larry, the thing that replaced Larry, and a reminder for all of us to encourage building owners and managers to turn off their lights at night.

You see, on Monday, July 24, twitter owner Elon Musk announced a new rebrand for the social media platform. That very same Monday (at least based on SF Department of Building Inspection complaint reports), workers began tearing down Larry from the side of the building headquarters of what is now known as X, without the proper permits from the city of San Francisco.

Apparently, the workers were asked to stop Larry’s removal because; 1. They didn’t have the proper permits to start the process to begin with and… 2. They hadn’t closed off the sidewalk where the unofficial worksite was, thereby putting people in danger… yikes.

Let’s just say, before you go removing birds from their nests, always check with a professional before proceeding with business as usual. (Need a nest survey? Contact your local wildlife biologist here). But I digress.

Credit: Fact Intensity

By Friday, July 28, complaints started flooding the SF Department of Building Inspection tracking system, with residents of San Francisco pointing out a giant flashing sign in the shape of an X at the top of X’s headquarters secured to a temporary ballast, or as one complaint noted “a couple of sandbags”.

But, what does this have to do with real birds? Don’t worry I’m getting there…

Twenty four complaints were filed in all. With most noting how structurally unsound the sign seemed, how the light was too bright at night, how people living in the general vicinity couldn’t sleep, how the flashing strobe-like effect could cause epileptic seizures, that it could potentially distract drivers and cyclists and that it was generally disorienting and nausea inducing.…

Dotson Family Marsh− How We Got This Great Gift

Dotson Family Marsh− How We Got This Great Gift

By Maureen Lahiff

Dotson Marsh – Maureen Lahiff

Dotson Family Marsh along San Pablo Bay in Richmond is a fantastic place to go birding in fall and winter. Now the southernmost unit of East Bay Regional Park’s Point Pinole Regional Shoreline, restored wetlands and coastal prairie provide abundant food and roosting places for shorebirds and ducks, while the uplands host a number of grassland birds and sparrows. Utility poles and power lines provide perches for raptors, who find good hunting here.

Since Dotson Family Marsh bears witness to an important part of Bay Area history, I’ve written this blog piece as a companion to the Birding Hotspot article I wrote for Golden Gate Bird Alliance’s quarterly print publication The Gull, Summer 2023.

My goal is to deepen visitor’s connection with this land, to increase awareness and appreciation of the remarkable people who worked to keep this area open space, and to provide a bit of background about the Dotson family and why it is truly fitting that this place carries their name. As the East Bay Regional Parks’ 75th anniversary tagline says, Dotson Family Marsh is “ours to keep”.

Ohlone and Miwok peoples used these lands, tending the wild to insure that the plants and animals flourished. Cattle grazed here, tended by native people who were subjugated by Mission San Francisco de Asís, founded in 1776 and commonly known as Mission Dolores because of its location along Dolores Creek in San Francisco. When New Spain became Mexico, this land became part of Rancho San Pablo, granted to Francisco Maria Castro. The 28 square mile land grant (rancho)extended along the coast from Point Pinole south to Kensington. The US honored the Mexican land grants after the Mexican-American War, so the Castro family remained in control of the land.

In 1899, the Santa Fe Railroad established its western terminus in Point Richmond. Standard Oil, the predecessor of Chevron, built a refinery along the coast in 1901. The City of Richmond was incorporated in 1905.

The Kaiser Richmond Shipyards were established in 1941. An influx of black migrants and white migrants from the South, were drawn to the shipyards and neighboring war industries. Temporary housing was provided during World War II. Most of this was torn down after the war ended.

After World War II, Black military veterans could not take advantage of the GI Bill’s educational benefits and were not eligible for mortgage programs that enabled them to purchase homes.

How to Thrive as an SOB (Spouse of Birder)

How to Thrive as an SOB (Spouse of Birder)

By Kim Marvel

Birding at a natural area near our home in Fort Collins, Colorado

My wife is a birder. The early signs were subtle. Years ago, she requested my assistance placing feeders and nesting boxes in our backyard. On occasion she signed up for local birding walks. She populated our landscaping with bird-friendly shrubs and trees. Her growing interest became more evident when she placed a heated bird bath on our back deck in the winter. Now, in her retirement years, she’s completely out of the closet as a fully-fledged birder. The kitchen counter is piled with binoculars, spotting scopes, birding magazines, and Feeder Watch forms. National Audubon and the Cornell Lab are on the top of our charitable contributions list. We are frequent flyers at the local Wild Birds Unlimited store. At home, the top of each hour is cheerfully announced by a bird song emitting from the Audubon wall clock. Merlin is among her phone apps. She routinely opens her laptop to update her e-Bird list. As I write this, the centerpiece of our dining room table is a partially completed bird-themed jigsaw puzzle. Nowadays, our road trips are often organized around birding hotspots. Yes, it’s safe to say birding has become her favorite activity.

View from Golden Gate Overlook during a recent visit to San Francisco

I’m not a birder. Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy watching a colorful hummingbird or spotting a majestic raptor soaring above. On a recent outing, I was enthralled by the unique courting ritual of the Greater Prairie Chicken. Indeed, it is satisfying to recognize a species or common birdsong. It is not that I dislike birding. I just don’t have the innate curiosity and interest that I witness in my wife. I don’t have the “fire in the belly” that I observe in birders, particularly when they gather in groups. Try as I might, I don’t experience the sheer delight in my wife’s eyes upon seeing a new species.

Being a “birder”, of course, is not an either/or quality. At one extreme of the “bird interest” scale are people oblivious to bird activity. Others, like me, have a modest interest. We can recognize iconic birds such as the bald eagle, robin, cardinal, and great horned owl. While we enjoy spotting a colorful bluebird or hearing the cheerful song of a meadowlark, our interest in ongoing observation or detailed classification of species fades quickly.