Artwork by Margarita Krasutskaya

On the theme of eco-anxiety, we partnered with Earth Day Canada to create our ‘Every Day Eco-Heroes’ series. The aim of this series was to shine a spotlight on Canadian environmental activists who make every day, Earth Day. This series can be found here:

1. Autumn Peltier 
2. Shefaza Esmail
3. Melina Laboucan-Massimo

Additionally we created a few off series posts, centred around ideas of sustainability and the feelings of eco-anxiety! These articles can be found here:

1. Sowing a Better Future
2. Our Environmental Origin Stories
3. Addressing Eco-Anxiety
4. Touch the Earth

Thank you so much for joining us for this collaboration, and a very special thanks to Earth Day Canada for making this possible. We hope you have had a great Earth Day so far, and hope that these articles can inspire you in some form or fashion to make every day Earth Day.

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We all feel anxious at times so I’m sure you’re wondering what symptoms are associated with eco-anxiety other than this fear of the destruction of our environment. According to Healthline, one of the main feelings associated with eco-anxiety is that of hopelessness about the future. I’m sure every single one of you reading this has felt that feeling at some point, I think it might be a requirement to become an environmentalist. Other symptoms they’ve listed include frustration, especially towards climate deniers, existential dread, guilt surrounding your own carbon footprint, and obsessive thoughts about the climate. Physical symptoms observed have included sleep problems, appetite changes and difficulty concentrating. 

You may be wondering why eco-anxiety seems to be on such a sharp rise in recent years. There are a variety of reasons for this. Firstly, no matter how much you try, it is pretty impossible to ignore the fact that without the earth we would not be able to exist. Even the starkest climate deniers can agree that we need earth, and as such, it is only natural to feel a sense of loss and to grieve for the earth as we become more aware of the rapidly accelerating changes taking place. The second reason is through lived experiences – while hearing about climate change is one thing, living through it is another. For people who have had to experience increased instances of extreme weather events such as hurricanes or drought, the realities of climate change are quite apparent. As someone from the Caribbean, I can attest that this lived experience makes it near impossible to not feel eco-anxiety at times. Gradual changes can also impact people of course, and rising temperatures can also lead to adverse effects. Another reason for the increased instance of eco-anxiety in the population is due to increased media coverage. I’m sure you’ve all felt like you can’t escape the news, and like it is a constant stream of negativity. Reporting on climate change and disasters, while incredibly important, also results in people feeling as though they can’t escape, causing them to feel demotivated. Constant news coverage also results in doomscrolling on social media, leading to people feeling trapped under a constant barrage of doom and gloom. The final reason for an increase in eco-anxiety is due to regret for one’s own individual actions. We now know the extent of our impacts on the climate, and it is hard to not feel guilty about these actions. For example, feeling guilty about using your air conditioner too much, or for all the flights you have taken over your life, or even for just not recycling that piece of paper yesterday. These feelings of guilt can also lead to feeling powerless due to being just one individual. 

When looking at eco-anxiety it is clear that this is an issue that will be felt around the world, however, there are groups of people who face a higher chance of climate-related stress due to, in part, their greater vulnerability to climate change. Groups who are higher at risk include Indigenous communities, people living in coastal or island regions, children and older adults, and socioeconomically disadvantaged communities. There are many complex factors that play into this increased instance of risk. Inuit communities face the loss of sea ice which plays a crucial role in not only their way of life but also their culture and identity. Indigenous and other communities that rely on hunting, fishing and farming as their way of life are also at risk due to decreasing availability of fish and other wild animals, as well as increased instances of drought causing crops to be unable to grow. Communities that rely on tourism are also at risk. Travel destinations often rely on the beauty of their natural environment to attract visitors, however, the destruction of natural environments due to climate change will result in fewer tourists and as a result, less income for these communities

Now that you know what eco-anxiety is, why it is on the rise, and who is most at risk, I would like to share my own experience with it. I have studied environmental science since my undergraduate degree, following that with a Masters of Environment and Sustainability. Due to this, I have been surrounded by environmental news, and what sometimes feels like a constant downpour of new climate crises. As a result, in my third year of university to be completely honest, I was rather depressed. Going to class every day was a constant reminder that we, and I, were not doing enough to combat climate change and that even if I did change, I felt it was too late. This resulted in me feeling hopeless and apathetic about the future, often wondering to myself what the point of it all was. This was also at a time when it was quite apparent that the reefs back in my home of Barbados were dying, and we were also experiencing one of our worst droughts ever. I say this all to let you know that if you ever feel this way, you really aren’t alone. I spent the first semester of that year pessimistic and apathetic. If you asked me what I thought of the future, I would’ve probably (annoyingly) said ‘What future?’, if you asked me what we could do I would have replied with a quick ‘nothing.’ Now, do I still feel eco-anxiety? Of course! I honestly think that if you are in tune with the environment it is impossible to avoid. However, apathy doesn’t lead to change, and change is something that we desperately need. I was privileged to be able to go to therapy during this time which helped me understand what I was feeling and identify ways to better cope with these feelings. This coupled with changes in my life, such as becoming vegetarian, spending more time in nature, and living an all-around more eco-friendly lifestyle have helped me deal with my own feelings greatly.

At this point, I’m sure you’re wondering how to address eco-anxiety. MedicalNewsToday has some great tips, as well as a few of my own. The first, and one I can say from personal experience helped me greatly, is by taking action. Action can be taken by volunteering with environmental groups, spreading environmental awareness, and making greener choices in your lifestyle, such as by reducing your meat intake. For me, taking action was done in the form of going vegetarian, attending more rallies, and volunteering – all of which helped relieve a sense of hopelessness about my future. Another way to help alleviate eco-anxiety is by spending time in nature and fostering a better personal connection with the environment. Some professionals recommend keeping a rock, dried flower, or other natural objects to look at or touch as a grounding technique when feeling overwhelmed. Refusing to be in denial is another important, but difficult way to deal with these feelings. Despite wanting to push these feelings away or bury your head in the sand, dealing with them and acknowledging them is incredibly important. Allow yourself to understand why you are feeling this way, and if you feel guilt, forgive yourself for your past actions and commit to doing better moving forward. That is not to say however that you need to be engaged in climate change discourse at all times. It is important to know when to disengage and allow yourself to rest, and also important to ensure that the information causing you this anxiety is accurate and trustworthy. Finally, if possible, speaking to a professional can always help with any feelings of anxiety, and eco-anxiety is no different. If you don’t want to, or can’t speak to a professional, try speaking to someone you trust about these feelings, and always remember, you really aren’t alone. Eco-anxiety is something that we will all probably feel at some point, however, I hope that these feelings can be turned into ones of action and will help us to create a better, less stressful future.

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The first activist we would like to shine a spotlight on is someone a few of you may already know, but who deserves to be recognised by all in Canada, as well as globally. This person is Autumn Peltier. Peltier is from the Wiikwemkoong First Nation on Manitoulin Island, Ontario. Being born and raised here, Peltier was surrounded by the largest group of freshwater lakes in the world. Growing up in such an environment allowed her to understand the importance of freshwater and why we must protect it. When she was just eight years old, Peltier attended a ceremony at Serpent River First Nation in Ontario with her mother. It was at Serpent River that Peltier first noticed signs warning of ‘toxic’ drinking water. Water contamination on reserves has been an issue for years at this point, and one that the government, despite making promises, still have not been able to address. In an interview from 2019 with Women of Influence she recounts her mother explaining that for over ten years this community has had a boiled-water advisory, and the shock that made her feel. In an interview with Maclean’s, Peltier says that this ceremony was an eye opener for the work that she does.

Peltier also drew inspiration from her Aunt Josephine Mandamin, stating in the 2021 interview with Macleans that prior to her passing, Josephine asked that she continue with her work. “Carrying on her legacy is one of the most important things to me,” stated Peltier. Josephine Mandamin, also known as “Water Walker” was a founding member of the water protectors movement, a founder of the Mother Earth Water Walkers, and Anishinabek Nation Chief Water Commissioner. It is through Mandamin as well as her mother that Peltier was inspired to take action, saying “I advocate for water because we all came from water and water is literally the only reason we are here today and living on this earth.” In her interview with Macleans in 2021, Peltier was asked what the best piece of advice she had received from Mandamin, stating it was just before she passed when she said, “‘People are going to try to stop you, but you just have to keep on doing the work and keep on loving the water.’ And she was right. It was her saying that that helped me realize that I can’t let people get to me.” With such influential people surrounding her from her youth, it is apparent why she has been so inspired, as well as commendable for continuing on their legacy. 

(PHOTO: IREVAPHOTOGRAPHY LINDA ROY OF WIIKWEMKOONG UNCEDED FIRST NATION, MANITOULIN ISLAND ONTARIO, source: FashionMagazine.com)

Due to the influence of her Aunt Josephine and mother, Peltier has been an activist from young, which I find to be greatly inspiring personally. Can you remember what you were doing at age 12? The first instance in which Peltier was thrust into the spotlight was in 2016, at the age of 12, and a moment which I’m sure a few of you remember. This was at the annual winter meeting of the Assembly of First Nations where at such a young age, she showed more courage than most grown adults, directly criticizing Prime Minister Justin Trudeau to his face, saying “I am very unhappy with the choices you’ve made,” to which Trudeau responded “I understand that. I will protect the water.” In her 2021 interview with Macleans, Peltier addresses this moment and the action that has been taken by the Prime Minister since. In this interview she states that the moment was not planned, and that she had actually been told not to say anything to the Prime Minister, as she states however, not many people are given the opportunity to share their thoughts with him, and she had to take that opportunity. Since then, the Trudeau government promised to end all water boil advisories across Canada by March, 2021 – a promise that was not met. In response to this, Peltier said “To promise to resolve a big issue like that within a certain amount of time and [not do it], and there are still communities that can’t drink their water after over 25 years, how are we supposed to trust the government? How are we supposed to believe him? I feel he pretends to care.” When asked what Trudeau could do to regain this trust she responded by saying rather than making empty promises or simply speaking on the issue, that action is actually taken. As you can see, sadly much hasn’t changed in government since then, but neither has Peltier’s persistence and determination to enact these changes. 

Since 2016, much has changed for Autumn Peltier. As of 2019, she was named the new “water walker” or Chief Water Commissioner for the Anishinabek Nation, a role she took upon the passing of previous water commissioner, Josephine Mandamin, her aunt. When asked about her appointal, Anishinabek Nation Grand Council Chief Glen Hare said that it was a very easy choice to make as “Autumn has extensive nibi giikendaaswin (water knowledge). She has been bringing global attention to the water issues in our country for a few years now.” Additionally, Autumn has given many inspiring speeches. The first of which was in 2018 where she was invited to speak at the Global Landscapes Forum in New York City where she directly addressed the UN and other important decision makers. During this address, her passion for water protection was thoroughly conveyed with quotes such as “We can’t eat money or drink oil” being quoted globally. Peltier was invited to speak at the United Nation Secretary-General’s Climate Action Summit in New York in both 2018 and 2019. In 2019, Peltier shared the stage with a fellow youth activist I’m certain all of you know, Greta Thunberg. This speech in 2019 saw her gaining a large following, with her instagram growing from five thousand to over one hundred thousand after the event, allowing her voice to be heard across the globe and inspire thousands. 

Recognition is not what Peltier strives for, but rather action, however she has received numerous awards over the years that have resulted in more people being aware of her efforts, and as such supporting them. Some of these awards include being at the top of the Maclean’s 20 to watch in 2020 list, as well as being named as the only woman in the BBC Top Women of 2019. Peltier was also nominated for the International Children’s Peace Prize in 2017, 2018, and 2019, also being named a “science defender” by the Union of Concerned Scientists in 2019. Most recently, Peltier was awarded the 2021 RevolutionHer Community Vision Youth Award for her work as the Chief Water Commissioner for the Anishinabek Nation. 

Autumn Peltier is an inspiration to me not only because of how young she began her activism, but also due to her persistence and passion for water protection over the years. While many become jaded in the face of environmental concerns and often lose motivation, Peltier has continued to advocate bravely, never afraid to stand up for what she believes in. As touched on in the 2021 Macleans interview, the COVID pandemic has shown that in emergencies, funds and resources are able to be mobilised readily – a frustrating fact for Peltier as these same funds can clearly be allocated to the current drinking water emergencies being faced on reserves. 

We hope that by learning more about Peltier and her advocacy you too feel this frustration about the inaction of the government, and that you turn this frustration into action and advocacy. This Earth Day, call in sick to work and make your voices heard about water rights, and of course, all environmental rights. Stay tuned for next week’s continuation of this series, highlighting another, lesser known environmental activist deserving of our recognition. 

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Siobhan’s Environmental Origin Story

I am about to graduate my undergrad in Environment, Resources and Sustainability with a minor in English Language and Literature. Throughout my 5-year degree, I have had 4 very different co-op jobs in environmental education, ecological lab work, environmental journalism (at A\J!), and fieldwork in Labrador for my own research. I am passionate about ecology and writing and using creative means for environmental learning. I’m a budding environmental professional and I’m eager to go into the world and make positive change.

All of this is fine and dandy, but you could learn all of that about me from my LinkedIn page. It’s only a part of my bigger story. We all have a story (or multiple) of how we have become who we are now and I often reflect on mine. It always starts with, naturally, my childhood. I’ve been an advocate for nature my entire life. I developed a relationship with nature from a young age because I had the privilege to do so. I had a heart for animals, plants, and the natural parts of life. I went camping and hiking with my family when I was young. I had parents who forced me outside to play on nice days (and there wasn’t that much else to do back then anyway). Growing up, I used my imagination to create games with nature. I climbed trees, I caught bugs and let them crawl up my arms and legs, I made “cookies” out of mud and grass and whatever other special ingredients I could find. I remember having fun outdoors and feeling free when I was.

A lot of my comfort in nature stems from my time spent at my family’s cottage in Prince Edward Island. PEI is my favourite place in the world and my heart belongs there. I was so lucky to spend most of my childhood summers at the cottage, right by the ocean. I was given a lot of freedom there. My grandparents, who were usually taking care of my sister and I when my dad couldn’t stay long because of work, let us explore to our hearts’ content. I ran around playing games with my cousins, chasing butterflies, swimming in the ocean, catching crabs and lobsters and starfish, playing in the red clay along the cliffs, and exploring everywhere I possibly could. It was a dream.

In high school, I started becoming more aware of environmental issues despite never having any formal environmental education in any of my schooling years. I started making changes in my lifestyle to be more environmentally-conscious. I began with the simplest first steps into environmental learning: I started caring about recycling and composting and reducing waste. At 16, I went vegan. A small seed of environmentalism started growing inside of me. As it grew, I started thinking more about environmental issues, and I felt driven to know more and do more. I took an interest in my high school biology classes as it was the closest subject at my school to any kind of environmental science. Then, I began to feel driven to talking to people about environmental issues. And then, the time came when I had to choose where and what I wanted to study in university. Biology was the natural choice.

I went to Queen’s University for my first year in General Science. During my year, I realized that Queen’s wasn’t the right fit for me. I also realized I was in the wrong program. I was not passionate about biology and chemistry and geology. I was passionate about environmentalism, including how humans were so tied to environmental issues, so I started avidly searching other universities for a program that suited my passion. My search led me to the University of Waterloo’s Faculty of Environment. I discovered a program called Environment, Resources, and Sustainability, which included a diversity of interdisciplinary courses with topics ranging from ecology, to environmental history; environmental assessment, policy and governance; gender and environment; environmental psychology; water governance; and beyond. From my first day in ERS, I knew it was exactly where I needed and wanted to be. I found my niche. I realized that I could spend my education – and in turn, my career and life – studying and pursuing my passion. I desperately wanted to make the world a better place for people and nature, and that has not changed in me. That passion led me here, to A\J, to tell stories about environmental topics in the hopes of informing and inspiring others. It has led me to all the spaces I’ve been able to dip my toes in my undergrad and I expect it will lead me into whatever comes next for me.

Although the passion for environmentalism is a huge driver in this field of work, it can be really hard to stay motivated at times, especially since constantly learning about environmental and world issues can be depressing and often brings feelings of eco-anxiety, cynicism, and helplessness. But staying focused on the vision of a better world is crucial. I do so by looking to my friends, my professors, and other activists. There are so many people in environmental work who are just so incredibly motivating and encouraging. Being inspired by others helps all those negative feelings fade and reignites the excitement. 

I’m still a very fresh environmental thinker, writer, and researcher – it’s barely just the beginning for me – but I really do see myself spending my whole life in this field of work. As the years go by, I might become more jaded and hard around the edges, but I know the core purpose of why I chose to be in this space will be the same. It’s pretty simple. No matter where I end up or what I end up doing throughout my career, my heart for people and for nature will drive me towards the spaces that need me most. I can only hope now, at the start of this journey, that I will thrive in those spaces, places, and opportunities, and help others to do the same.

Alex’s Environmental Origin Story

My environmental origin story is probably different to yours, however, at the end of the day we all want the same thing – a sustainable future for the earth we are lucky enough to live on. I was born and raised in Barbados – a small island in the Caribbean and it is due to this upbringing that I am as passionate about the environment as I am.

From the time I was young, no one has been able to keep me from the beach or from the embrace of the ocean. As a kid I probably spent more time in the sea than I did at my house – what I would give to spend that much time in the Caribbean sun again! There has always been something about the ocean that calms me – the quietness I feel when snorkeling is a kind of stillness I have never been able to replicate, a calmness that grounds me and reminds me of the harmony that should exist between us and nature. I can remember going snorkeling for as long as I remember going to the beach. When I was young, my dad would pull me out on a boogie board so that I could see the reefs that I wasn’t quite strong enough to swim to yet. As I grew older I continued to snorkel on these same reefs and even found a few new ones of my own. To this day one of my favourite hobbies is floating along the surface of the ocean, trying my best not to disturb the fish as we peacefully coexist.

In school I was always interested in geography, more specifically earth system sciences and earth processes. The hurricanes that seemed to just miss us every year intrigued me, as well as the way that earth evolved over millennia due to tectonic movements. For example, Barbados is one of the few islands in the Caribbean that is not volcanic, but rather having been formed by the collision of the Atlantic and Caribbean plates causing a landmass to be built up. Coral was then formed on this landmass and as it continued to grow and be pushed upward, Barbados was formed. Coral reefs – pretty important! We’ll be back to them soon. As a result, my plan was always to major in geography – we didn’t have any environmental science courses at my school, so this wasn’t even on my horizon. It wasn’t until I went to Queen’s University in 2015 when I realised that while I love earth processes, I might love earth itself even more. During my first year I took general science which allowed me to take a few courses more geared towards environmental science – at the time, the first environmental science course offered at Queen’s was in second year. During this time I was also beginning to notice a change in a natural environment I knew very well. The reefs. 

If you know anything about reefs I’m sure you know they haven’t been having a great time recently. Coral bleaching due to warming sea temperatures and ocean acidification due to a rise in atmospheric carbon dioxide has resulted in reefs around the world being threatened. Recently, it was announced that the Great Barrier Reef was experiencing another mass bleaching event – this time even more concerningly during the cooler periods when La Nina is in effect. I have unfortunately been able to witness these effects firsthand. I truly wish I had documented the reefs I have had the privilege to snorkel on over the course of my life. A piece of me is glad I didn’t – the memories make me sad enough, I don’t know if I could handle looking at pictures of what once was. Over the course of my life I have watched these reefs turn from bountiful underwater landscapes, teeming with vibrant forms of all ocean life, to barren, grey landscapes, covered in seaweed and fire coral. Sidenote – don’t touch any coral, however DON’T TOUCH fire coral, it feels like a third degree burn… maybe this is nature getting back at us. Not only has the coral died, but the fish which it provides a habitat for have disappeared as well. What used to be schools of vibrant parrot fish, cavalli, snapper, have turned into fleeting schools of small baitfish like sprats, or even the newly arrived and invasive lionfish species. These changes were directly as a result of coral bleaching as the water has become warmer, as well as poorly planned coastal construction projects which have resulted in fine sediments being deposited on the reefs, starving them of light.

Being able to see these changes first hand while also reading about them in textbooks or on the news was really what made me realise that my passion aligned more with protecting the earth than it did studying its processes. It also made me realise the disproportionate effects of climate change as the large countries creating the majority of these warming greenhouse gases weren’t feeling the true effects of the pollution they were causing. While people in North America joked about warmer Christmases, our reefs were dying, hurricanes were becoming more prevalent, and the worst droughts we had faced in years were causing water use bans. Imagine having trucks bring you all of the water you were allowed to use once a week. Can you? All the while continuing to peddle my home as a tropical paradise to be used to escape from the reality of the ‘real world’. It is paradise – but it’s only a consistent paradise for tourists, especially those staying on all inclusive resorts that do almost nothing for our island economy.  As a result I decided to major in Environmental Science and minor in Geography. I still felt there was more to learn, and more that I could do however, and decided to pursue a Master’s Degree in Environment and Sustainability from Western University.

This brings me to today. In the past I have worked for the Caribbean Institute for Meteorology and Hydrology creating flood maps for Caribbean nations as they prepare for more inclement weather events. Now at A\J, I am lucky enough to have the opportunity and the platform to raise awareness about environmental issues. And that is really what I have always strived for. To make people aware of their actions and the consequences of living a life of blissful ignorance. Sure, it’d be lovely to drive a way-too-fast sports car, eat all the steak in the world, fly around on planes with no guilt, but that’s not the case and it never will be. At present I am happy to have some impact, and have the chance for my voice to be heard and hopefully inspire. While my initial passion for the environment may have been spurred in my home of Barbados, as we all know, climate change is a global issue and not a local one. I try my best to create positive environmental change here in Canada, as well as back home, however I know there is more to be done. I think this is something that everyone realises at some point in their environmental awakening – we can’t ever do enough. There is always more to be done and ways we can improve. I try to live my life with this in the back of my mind at all times and hope that my actions will inspire others to take action, and to always remember, to try just a little bit harder.

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Judge Smith was suitably impressed and “recognized Mrs. Rogerson’s original strain as a new, unique, and distinct breed. He went on to encourage development of the (breed) … and he later developed the first breed standards.”

Mrs. Rogerson’s new breed was the Gloster (for Mrs. Rogerson’s home shire) Fancy Canary, and it came in two versions, the Gloster Corona and the Gloster Consort.

The Gloster Corona (left) and Gloster Consort (right) (images from Animal World)

The Gloster Corona was, as its name suggests, crowned with crested plumage, the first to catch the eyes of canary admirers already drawn to its pleasant singing and good-hearted demeanour. The Gloster Consort was, as its name suggests, a bit less regal-looking and, if it were human, possibly harbouring a grudge for being denied the crown and the attention. But each version was equally important and Mrs. Rogerson’s creation, coming in an age when canaries were admired for their singing – and for their utility to us as harbingers of doom in our coal mines – developed a strong and loyal following, persisting to this day as a leading canary-fanciers favourite.

Four years before the birth of the Gloster Consort, a young man was born on a Greek island who would, as fate would have it, come to learn a thing or two about birds. And, interestingly, nine years after the exhibition, a young man would be born in a town in southwest Ontario who would, as fate would have it, also come to learn a thing or two about birds.

Margaret Atwood and Graeme Gibson (left), Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip (right)

***

Prince Philip of Greece and Denmark was born on the Greek island of Corfu, and came to international prominence when his acquaintance with Princess Elizabeth of Great Britain became more than an acquaintance. In 1946, King George VI gave his permission and blessing to the marriage of his daughter, the presumptive heiress to the throne, to this tall, handsome young princeling who’s lineage could be traced back to the German principalities, a lineage shared with his betrothed (and with many of the sovereigns of Europe, in fact).

Prince Phillip was a constant presence in my life. I was born 10 years after Phillip’s Queen ascended to the throne and I have watched from afar as a loyal subject of his (and my) Queen and an admirer of his for the way in which he navigated his life. In many ways, the dynamic that underpinned the relationship between Phillip and Elizabeth was mirrored in my own world as my mother, ‘Queen May’, ruled the realm with the genial assistance of her consort, my father George. My Dad, a former Royal Marine Commando, stayed at home during most of my childhood while my Mom went off to work at the hospital, or the modelling agency, or the nursing home. My Dad did the cooking and cleaning, along with whatever odd job that he’d pick up in his former trade as a carpet-master and flooring specialist. And he did it with a smile on his face that only broadened when he’d meet his grandchildren in his daily parade as the King of Queen Street. A man who could (and probably did; he always hedged when asked specifically) kill somebody with his bare hands, hands that were scarred and calloused from a life’s labour, would stop everything and drop everything to pick up a beaming grandchild and whisk her up into an impromptu dance. And then he’d hurry home to ensure that the supper was on and the place was set for my Mom’s return from work, the happiest part of my Dad’s day.

(George and May McConnachie, circa 1960s)

In most respects, I saw this as completely normal and assumed that every father was so hard yet soft, a sinner yet a saint. Sometimes, though, I’d question how my Dad put aside his masculinity as a member of the supposed superior sex to assume what was a traditional feminine role, the helpmate, in the very patriarchal society of the 1960s and 70s. Did it make him more or less of a man? And what lessons would I draw as I grew into my own manhood?

In these questioning times, and perhaps sensing my unease, my Dad and I would start talking (both of us well-known non-stop talkers) about the military career of Prince Phillip and the important roles that he played for Canada, Scotland and the rest of the British Empire. How he carried himself with great dignity. How he put his family first. How he took the most masculine step possible, to take a step back to allow someone else to shine, and to do so with a sense of duty and responsibility that was absolutely necessary to the role. Being the consort of a Queen was no easy task, but there always seemed to be a smile on Phillip’s face as he beamed at his Queen and she at he. It seemed as real to me as the love that was demonstrated between my parents, and I knew that my mother’s successes in this world were directly related to the scrubbing of the laundry and the seasoning of the stew, and the countless other little duties, that my father fulfilled with a joyfulness in his heart that everyone felt.

Both Prince Phillip and my Dad (and my Mom’s consort), George, were born in the year 1921. They both fought in battles in far off lands and fought battles for their families closer to home. They were faulty human beings – as we all are – but each managed to persevere through their own limitations and life’s challenges to be the strongest supporters and the loudest fan of their respective Queens. It is a lesson that I have taken to heart – and taken home to roost whenever I have been fortunate enough to be joined in my own life’s journey by a Queen.

***

Phillip of Greece and George of Glasgow shared many traits and commonalities. One of the most obvious to me was the love of the outdoors, a respect for nature and an understanding that we human beings are but one small species in a giant ecosystem called life-on-earth. I used to watch the annual BBC specials on the Royal Family, and invariably there’d be a mention of Prince Phillip’s conservation efforts, specifically in the area of birds. My Dad kept his conservation efforts nearer to us, opening the back door in the morning and stepping out to feed his ‘wee beasties’, the squirrels, chipmunks and birds that would soon be eating their own meals from his hands. He’d share wisdom straight from de Saint-Exupéry about the importance of stewardship, not the fleeting kind but the long-tailed kind of stewardship that came with as many tears as triumphs. He’d share tales from his own wartime adventures, the birds that he saw in Egypt or the crows in the bell towers in Italy. He’d sing songs that he’d make up, swearing to me that he was only replicating what he’d been taught by the birds. To this day, I’ll engage in singathons with the jays and others in the trees near me (of which they might not always appreciate), just to recall the feeling of, that moment of, my hero, my father, being in tune with nature. And everything being good in the world

“To this day, I’ll engage in singathons with the jays and others in the trees near me (of which they might not always appreciate), just to recall the feeling of, that moment of, my hero, my father, being in tune with nature. And everything being good in the world.”

My Dad was a near-urban wildlife aficionado, a product of his own upbringing in the tenement blocks of Glasgow. He would sally forth with a backpack on his back as a boy, especially when he was visiting relatives in the relatively bucolic Firth of Forth town called North Queensferry, right across from Mary Queen of Scots’ castle in Edinburgh. And the stories that he’d tell, of going up and down the moors, of splashing through the streams, and of lazing under the bright skies while watching the birds overhead and wondering if these winged creatures were actually God’s cherubim incarnate.

When my Dad talked of nature, he’d do so with a reverence in his voice, of the quiet and the peace. Of the giant trees and glistening lakes. Of the clear skies and clearer water, water that was so cool that you could quench your thirst even on the hottest day. Of the animals, large and small, that made the woods and forests their homes. And of the need to respect nature and all her parts, of which we were just one little aspect.

“You’re one in a million to me, Davey, but to the rest of the planet you’re just one of a million.”

As I got older and started reading history books about my father’s battles, I started to gain a deeper understanding of why my Dad, a man of action, would retreat into nature as a place of both solitude and rebirth. In battle, there is no peace, no quiet. In battle, the trees are torn asunder by artillery shells and the lakes stained red. In battle, there is constant thirst, a thirst for life, that is parched by the heat and the dust and the fear, and cool respites are few and far between. In battle, the woods and the forests become death-traps, for the humans and for every species, eerily devoid of bird calls but overflowing with smoke and fire and flames. And death.

Nature, alive, is full of life. Nature, alive, breathes and breeds new life. Nature, alive, is now a known antidote and remedy for those suffering from mental anguish and illness, a perfect ‘safe space’ to retreat into to undergo nature therapy. Breathing with the trees. Ebbing and flowing with the waters. Waking with the birds and drifting off to sleep to the cicadas. Meditation and introspection, a humbling that comes by appreciating your own inanity in this world full of pomposity and insanity.

Today, when I am perplexed by a problem and need to clear my mind, nothing works better than taking Zoey the dog (half border collie, half husky, all go) for a walk in the nearby nature trail here in Exeter, Ontario. I become mindful of each step we take. I become mindful of the sounds of the forest. I become mindful of the wind chilling my cheek. And, in doing so, my mind gains space from the perplexing problem. In most cases, that space and distance is enough to allow my logical thoughts to win the argument in my head and allow me to take the appropriate step(s). My emotional side has been succoured by nature. Nature becomes my consort, if you will.

***

In addition to the aforementioned Phillip and George, there’s another gentleman who embodies the spirit of being a consort in life and to life. Graeme Gibson of London (Ontario) was born into conditions more akin to George than Phillip. The son of Scottish immigrants, he and his family moved around a fair bit as a lad as they sought opportunities in this new land, but Graeme managed to take the right steps by graduating from the prestigious Upper Canada College and the University of Western Ontario. He was drawn to literature, as an outlet, and to the idea that change must be fostered, as a zeitgeist. His early works, released in the late 1960s and early 1970s, were considered by many in Canada’s literary circles as benchmarks of experiential literature, exploring important themes from perspectives not then shared by many. The works were rich in imagery and challenging in comprehension, requiring a degree of open-mindedness that narrowed mass market appeal. But Graeme understood that the purpose of literature was to serve the need of the story, and the storyteller, and if that meant limiting sales potential then so be it.

Becoming a champion of storytelling and storytellers was one of Graeme’s noble purposes, that driving compulsion to act in a manner that is not self-serving but serves the greater good.

Becoming a champion of storytelling and storytellers was one of Graeme’s noble purposes, that driving compulsion to act in a manner that is not self-serving but serves the greater good Graeme was one of the founders of the Writers’ Union of Canada, helped form the Writer’s Trust of Canada, and was a co-founder and president of PEN Canada. In the world of Canadian literature, the name Graeme Gibson became synonymous with fighting for writers’ right to write, and using their collective voices to affect change. And given that most Canadian writers exist within a very small cage of celebrity – with the resulting financial rewards that come with it – Graeme was really fighting for those who could not, through their small sales footprint (or not-yet-written first novel) earn enough daily bread to feed themselves, let alone the neighbourhood birds.

I was drawn to PEN Canada in the early 1980s as that organization began advocating for causes that resonated with my still-developing soul. PEN Canada’s mission:

PEN Canada celebrates literature, defends freedom of expression and aids writers in peril.

There seemed to be two voices that I heard most frequently from PEN. Graeme Gibson was the fiery organizer and orator. Margaret Atwood was the voice from upon high, a Canadian literary author with truly global impacts, and especially important in the areas of equal rights, civil rights and the right to have our voices heard. I could hear his voice but I saw her eyes, those eyes that seemed capable of reproach as stinging as anything she could have written. “Must be tough to be married to her,” my Dad chuckled as we watched the news, adding “and I should know!”

In my life’s journey, I got a chance to dabble in the world of Canadian literature during my time working as the publishing director of the NHL. One year, we released TOTAL HOCKEY encyclopaedia and HOCKEY FOR DUMMIES, both of which rocketed up the charts of Canadian Non-Fiction Bestsellers. I got invited to a few events, rubbed leather-patched elbows with the literati, and learned, to my delight, that the loud tall organizer was the one married to the Queen of Canadian literature. And then paid a bit more attention whenever either would pop up in the news.

At some point, I began to wonder what it must have been like to be married to Margaret Atwood, Canada’s Nobel-winning writer. Especially given that Graeme was a writer himself. How did he manage to be both a fiery advocate and soulful supporter?

How do you dance through life with your partner without stepping on the toes of her Muses?

How do you dance through life with your partner without stepping on the toes of her Muses? How do you add and not take away from her work, being there in whatever capacity may be required? Do you interrupt to offer tea or just bring it?

This contemplative time was after my Dad had passed and during a momentary crisis in my personal life that saw me need to become a good first officer to my marital captain as she launched and developed a new business. There was a random news item from Buckingham Palace that reminded me of Phillip, and of George. And, in hindsight, it helped me to understand Graeme Gibson a little bit better, and myself in the process, too. Something about a species at risk that the Duke of Edinburgh’s conservation trust had managed to nurse back to health, all in and around the ‘annus horribilis’ suffered by Elizabeth and family.

***

So, how do you act as a consort to your partner?

The verbs in the motto of PEN Canada hold a clue:

CELEBRATE. DEFEND. AID.

In the case of Phillip of Greece, he certainly spent considerable time consoling and counselling his Queen as she underwent her travails. In the case of George of Glasgow, he’d put a pot of soup on and make sure that my Mom’s chair was ready for her return. For Graeme of London, I’m guessing that, during moments of crisis in his family, he would celebrate, defend and aid his Queen to the best of his capacities, and in a manner that given the longevity of their relationship, must have worked. Margaret Atwood didn’t get any less famous for her writing or less prodigious in her output.

Now, interestingly, much like Phillip and George, Graeme also became a conservationist and ecological admirer. In his case, Graeme Gibson was a key driver behind the creation of the Pelee Island Bird Sanctuary in Canada’s southernmost point, a near-urban natural oasis that now teems with avian life, migratory and sedentary. Graeme, like the other gentleman consorts mentioned herein, took to nature as a remedy to the noises and nuisances of city life, and perhaps to step away, if even for just a brief moment, from his duties to his Queen. The smallest bird became the biggest focal point. The nurturing, the tears and the triumphs all part of the process of grounding oneself while giving back.

And therein lies the secret, I believe, to how we humans can stop putting our needs first and become consorts to our Queen, Mother Nature.

***

Mining foreman R. Thornburg shows a small cage with a canary used for testing carbon monoxide gas in 1928. George McCaa, U.S. Bureau of Mines

In 1986, the last canary was released from service to the coal mines. In all likelihood, it was not one of Mrs. Rogerson’s Gloster Canaries, be they Corona or Consort. The Gloster Canary was specially bred for its attractiveness and appeal. The canaries that worked in the coal mines were of less exalted stock, albeit hardier than their swankier cousins.

The practice of using canaries to detect carbon monoxide in mining operations was pioneered in 1911 by Dr. John Haldane, who some describe as the ‘father of oxygen therapy’. There was solid science behind the idea, specifically:

Canaries, like other birds, are good early detectors of carbon monoxide because they’re vulnerable to airborne poisons, Inglis-Arkell writes. Because they need such immense quantities of oxygen to enable them to fly and fly to heights that would make people altitude sick, their anatomy allows them to get a dose of oxygen when they inhale and another when they exhale, by holding air in extra sacs, he writes. Relative to mice or other easily transportable animals that could have been carried in by the miners, they get a double dose of air and any poisons the air might contain, so miners would get an earlier warning.

The use of canaries as ‘early warning systems’ took root in British mining companies, and soon jumped the pond to influence North American coal miners. The canaries were not only prized by the miners for their life-saving abilities but were also welcomed for their songs. “They are so ingrained in the culture, miners report whistling to the birds and coaxing them as they worked, treating them as pets.”

The phrase ‘a canary in a coal mine’ came into popular use not long after the birds went to work. In the broadest sense, it means that something is an early warning sign of danger ahead. Al Gore applied the analogy to the concept of the extinction of species and the skyrocketing GhGs are canaries in a coal mine of an ecosystem in crisis, in this case the ecosystem that sustains human life. That ‘inconvenient truth’ that Gore was sharing helped to ignite a heightened degree of awareness of environmentalism within everyday society, and became some of the foundational learning of today’s young environmental leaders. The ones leading the research, organizing a blockade to protect the old growth forests, or running for office to affect positive legislative change.

They make these sacrifices for a greater good, beyond simply the preservation of a butterfly or bumble bee. They are sacrificing for the butterfly and the bumble bee, yes, but they do so in service to humanity, keeping a watchful eye on the hands on the Extinction Clock, readying to raise the alarm or scramble to save another last-of. Because, fundamentally, these scientists, researchers, academics and activists understand and appreciate a simple truth: humans are but one species among billions on this planet, equally (if not more) vulnerable to the changes wrought by anthropogenic climate change. Fires, floods and famines, oh my! And if it isn’t good for the canary, it can’t be good for us.

***

We humans, large in numbers but small in planetary significance, have played an outsized role in the destruction and degradation of the natural environment. And while we’ve always been a messy species, we’ve really taken it up a notch since the Industrial Revolution.

You can blame our fossil-fuel-burning machinery poisoning the atmosphere with greenhouse gasses, which contributed to raising the global temperature which eventually begat the mass extinction events that we’re now watching unspool in front of our eyes like a slow-motion train wreck. And given that we’re the most golden of the Goldilocks species, the most vulnerable to extremes and to change in a time of extreme change, we should probably be paying more attention and taking more actions.

Credit: Ed Himelblau, The New Yorker

Start by birdwatching. We are far too zoomed in on our own daily minutiae to appreciate the larger world around us, and the changes that threaten our very existence.

We need to turn the binoculars around and stop demanding that EVERYONE LOOK AT US! We need to become passionate observers of the planet’s beautifully complicated ecosystems, large and small, near and far. 

We need to turn the binoculars around and stop demanding that EVERYONE LOOK AT US! We need to become passionate observers of the planet’s beautifully complicated ecosystems, large and small, near and far. We need to watch the birds as they go about their daily lives. We need to listen to the birds as they call to each other, this song a love poem, this song an elegy. We need to learn about the birds, and from the birds, where they live and why. We need to go to where the birds are and to build welcoming spaces for the birds where we are. There is so much we need to know and an incredible urgency to do so.

We, as humans, need to understand and appreciate the fact that ‘we’re all in this together’ is more than a motto to survive the pandemic. It’s a reminder that we are in a codependent relationship with the natural world – and we humans are more dependent upon the planet than the planet is on humans. We will need all the birds and all the bees that we can to be our allies in our survival. It’s a reminder that we humans are now the canaries and we seem hellbent as a species toward our own self-destruction, going out of our way to poison our cages, our foodstocks and our futures. We must start our efforts by changing the climate of misanthropy; after all, a self-loathing human is a dangerous beast and threatens to take a lot of other species down with it.

Once we’ve come to terms with our horrible-for-nature impacts, once we’ve accepted our responsibilities for past sins of commission and omission, and once we’ve realized that this planet is not all about us, we can begin to take tentative first steps to repairing our relationship with nature. And, yes, we are in a committed relationship with nature but, contrary to our human beliefs, we are most definitely not the most important partner in that relationship. Hell, our partner did pretty well before meeting us and will most certainly do just fine once we’ve departed. And we will depart sooner rather than later on our current trajectory, or more correctly we will be thrown out by an exasperated partner tired of waiting for us to change our ways and be a significantly more loving and more respectful significant other.

We have prioritized us and only us, at the expense of all others. We have blashemphed our inheritance and sullied our home. We have put our needs first, especially recently as the science became clearer while hurdles were thrown in the path of progress-seekers. Rather than acting in a manner that CELEBRATED, DEFENDED and AIDED our Queen in our role as consorts to nature, too many of us have DEGRADED, DESTROYED and EXPLOITED nature for our own benefit or for the benefit of societies that prioritize profits over people. The canaries have already given their lives for us and yet, still, we remain obtuse to the creeping gasses ready to suffocate our lives.

But as in all relationships, there is a chance to change our ways, although we might be on chance Nth by now. Our partner is very forgiving.

For far too long, humanity has demanded a subservience from nature. Some of our holiest books sanction our desecration in the name of the divine (and to the benefit of the few and the detriment of the most). We are the Lords, we are told, and we can bend Nature to meet our needs. But we are not Lords. We are simply a subspecies of simians that somehow managed to find a niche in time to proclaim our preeminence. We build edifices to and from our egos to ourselves and our perceived greatness. We’ll chop down giant, majestic trees to make the paper to make our words immortal, or until the next fire comes along. We use, we exploit, we degrade and we disrespect. Not all of us, and certainly not among the youngest of us, who seem to comprehend the severity of the bill of consequences that they’ll be paying for their ancestor’s transgressions against the environment. And I guess this message is specifically geared towards them.

It will not be easy to navigate your way forward in this new age of Mother Nature pushing back and standing up for herself. The ripples caused by the rising GhGs are well nigh ashore in our present world, manifesting as extreme everything. And these ripples will likely become tsunamis before the worst has passed.

What can we do? many may be asking. May I suggest an edit to How can we help? How can we become a consort to nature, a helpmate in the day to day and a warrior when called upon to fight on our partner’s behalf? We could do worse than look to the examples set by Phillip of Greece, George of Glasgow and Graeme of London.

In the introduction to his seminal book, The Bedside Book of Birds – An Avian Miscellany, Graeme Gibson wrote:

“With the zeal of a convert and the instigated imagination of an ex-novelist, I started taking note of, then collecting, and finally obsessively searching out texts that illustrated something — almost anything — about our human response to birds. This book is the result. It isn’t so much about birds themselves as it is about the richly varied relationships we have established with them during the hundreds of thousands of years that we and they have shared life on earth.”

How will we become the types of humans who deserve to share in a future with such a luminary partner? May I suggest a nature consort’s vow:

CELEBRATE NATURE. DEFEND NATURE. AID NATURE.

Until death do us part.

LEARN MORE AND DO MORE

How do we become better partners and better consorts for nature? Well, there are many steps that you can take and many great organizations doing work in your backyard that can help you gain a deeper understanding and appreciation for the role of nature in your life. Nature Canada, for example, works to help Canadians understand how to be better consorts to nature:

We believe that when the heart is engaged, the mind and body will follow. That is why, since our founding in 1939, Nature Canada has been connecting Canadians to nature, trying to instill in them a nature ethic – a respect for nature, an appreciation for its wonders, and the will to act in nature’s defense.

They’ve got many great programs, and one that would have definitely interested my Dad (and was a topic near to the hearts of Prince Phillip and Graeme Gibson) is birds in urban environments, the dangers that our cities present to our avian friends, and the steps being taken (or should be taken) to minimize the human impact on birds, and nature in general. Nature Canada’s Bird Friendly Cities program seeks to address the devastating impacts of our built structures on the avian ecosystem, and was launched because in “the last 50 years, North American bird populations have dropped by more than 25%.”

Thank you for reading our FOR THE LOVE OF NATURE series, be sure to check out the other articles as well!

And don’t forget to register for Nature Canada’s Pimlott Award Celebration happening this Wednesday on March 2, 2022, where Margaret Atwood and the late Graeme Gibson will be honoured and recognized as champions for birds and nature. Check it out here!

The post Consorting with Nature appeared first on A\J.

The MaddAddam Trilogy by Margaret Atwood

Reviewed by Mimi Shaftoe

The first time I read Oryx and Crake, it was like putting on a reverse version of rose-coloured glasses; I couldn’t stop drawing dark dystopian comparisons between the world on the page and the real one. I finished the book while on a road trip with my family the summer after grade 10. I remember feeling existential as I stared out the window at the landscape of concrete, billboards, industrial buildings and strip malls, probably muttering something dramatic under my breath like “Look out the window, we are literally living in Oryx and Crake.” The proximity, the almost-real-ness, of the imagined future in which the MaddAddam trilogy is set is what enthralled me and left me aghast when I first read these books as a teenager, and is what I think makes these books so powerful.

The MaddAddam trilogy is set in a future that is way too close for comfort, in which human intervention has irrevocably transformed the natural world, and a man-made catastrophe has wiped out a huge segment of the earth’s population. The series tackles a wide range of interconnected themes, from environmental destruction and the relationship between humans and the natural world, to unrestrained capitalism and consumerism, to patriarchy and sexism. To me, the books embody the idea that “It’s not Climate Change, it’s Everything Change” (which also happens to be the title of an essay Atwood wrote). In other words, the ecological crisis is a result of deeply unjust and destructive systems we’ve built, which affect every part of our daily lives. And getting ourselves out of this mess will require deep societal transformation.

Margaret Atwood famously prefers to refer to her work as ‘speculative fiction’ rather than science fiction, because she looks at issues and problems that already exist in the real world and simply extrapolates them to imagine a possible future. She illuminates the ways in which we are already in crisis and creates an unsettling sense that we could be barreling head on into the dystopian world she writes about… or that we may already be living in it! It really doesn’t seem far-fetched at all to imagine, for example, the Church of PetrOleum, where oil is worshipped and the bible is interpreted to mean that it is our divine right and holy obligation to extract oil.

The world of the MaddAddam trilogy is dark, but it’s also satirical and darkly funny, and it offers glimmers of hope which suggest that no matter how dark things get there is always the possibility of human goodness. The most hopeful element in this series, to me, is what Atwood has to say about the power of stories. If the entire trilogy is an allegory about climate change and humanity’s relationship with nature, then Atwood is suggesting that the stories we tell play an important part of the solution. I love some of the hymns she wrote for her fictional religion the God’s Gardeners, like ‘The Earth Forgives’ (which she actually recorded and released as part of the book promotion!) and the environmentally conscious, hopeful alternative they try to build in the midst of the rest of her dystopian world.

Throughout the books, she explores the stories we tell ourselves to create meaning in our lives, and the way these stories shape the way we relate to the world and the people around us. And while Atwood speculates about a grim future in this series, she also makes it clear that no future is set in stone, everything depends on what we do now.

So, let’s tell ourselves the kinds of stories that repair our relationship with the planet, and help us envision and create a just future.

“We have a choice to make now. We can return to our former path of destruction of the natural world…or we can change direction and build nature-based and community-based recovery strategies.” – Margaret Atwood

“Improvisation on a First Line by Yeats” by Margaret Atwood

Reviewed by Ishani Dasgupta

I sometimes take for granted the love I have received in this world and I most definitely have not considered that those who I love might not know it.

Let me be clear, I consider myself an admirer of Mother Nature and all of the complex, wonderful, and nice aspects of the biosphere. I do, after all, work in the environmental space and at times find myself in a unique position to write about one climate related issue or another. However, I never considered if the planet I am working so hard to protect actually knew that I cared for it, until I read Margaret Atwood’s poem “Improvisation on a First Line by Yeats”.

Rather, I was acutely stunned by the fact that I have loved nature quite selfishly.

In Atwood’s poem, which is inspired (as the name suggests) following a line from W. B. Yeats’ Hound Voice, she details a trip to a barren and mountainous landscape. When arriving near the landscape, the speaker finds herself lost in a serious thought about the history of change that may have occurred due to human activities.

“Because we love bare hills and stunted trees / we head north when we can, / past taiga, tundra, rocky shoreline, ice.” – Margaret Atwood, “Improvisation on a First Line by Yeats”

The speaker laments on whether the earliest human settlers shared a deep connection with the land. Whether they chose to “partner” with the elements and other animals to progress or carved the spirit of the landscape into their hearts. Importantly, the speaker assumes that it was at this point of time, when the first fires were being forged and guarded, that the soul of nature thrived.

“Everything once had a soul, / even this clam, this pebble. / Each had a secret name. / Everything listened. / Everything was real” – Margaret Atwood, “Improvisation on a First Line by Yeats”

It is explained that nature at this point did not always love you and therefore human patrons treaded the world with caution and perhaps fear; perhaps worrying if the next great natural disaster would completely wipe their civilization out. Although, with this fear came a connection to the land that we could not dream to recreate in the present.

“Everything once had a soul” and  “everything was real”, which meant that if you caused harm against the land you were on, you were hurting a conscious being. One with feelings and a spirit that could shake the centre that you grounded yourself on. How would it be to live in this time, when the very environment you lived in communicated to you on a daily basis and perhaps carried you through your life, as though it was a parent teaching and protecting its child?

“We long to pay that much attention. / But we’ve lost the knack… / All we hear in the wind’s plainsong / is the wind.” Margaret Atwood, “Improvisation on a First Line by Yeats”

And there it stands, as bleak as it can be stated: the greatest threat we have presented to nature is that “we have lost the knack” to pay it the close attention that we used to in the past.

I have been selfish with my love for nature. I loved it for its beauty, its complexity, and its purpose in my life. But have I truly loved it for its soul, its spirit, or the sacrifices it has made for me to live? Have I ever revered it and cared for it, as my ancestors did long before me?

Now, I can promise that I will try to raise my own attentiveness towards how I care for nature. I will love her as though she is my friend and my mother, as closely as I can to how they did in the past.

Hoping that one day I will finally understand that she has always, from the moment I was born to the and to the day I pass, loved me selflessly.

The Bedside Book of Birds – An Avian Miscellany by Graeme Gibson

Reviewed by Alex Goddard

Graeme Gibson’s The Bedside Book of Birds – An Avian Miscellany is a stunning collection of words and images expertly collected and curated to explore the longstanding relationship we have had with birds. As Gibson says, this book isn’t about birds themselves but about the varied and intimate relationship we have formed with them over the hundreds of millennia we have shared this earth. When reading this book, one of the immediate things that struck me was early in the book wherein Gibson describes that he came to birdwatching late in his life, not understanding it for a whole thirty seven years. I found this of particular interest as Gibson is someone who is synonymous with bird conservation in Canada and I would have assumed it to be a lifelong interest. I especially found this interesting as I myself can relate to these feelings shared by Gibson. Growing up in Barbados, we only have a few common species – blackbirds, doves, and sparrows, and while there are a few migratory birds, our wetlands are hard to reach and diminishing. As such, I had little interest in ornithology until I came to Canada, made friends with an avid birdwatcher, and began to go birdwatching with them. Now I take note of the birds around me much more, and enjoy birdwatching by myself from time to time. This was at the age of twenty three, and knowing that Gibson began his ornithological journey later in his life has been a huge source of inspiration to me, as it acted as a reminder that it really is never too late to pursue what you love, and certainly never too late to be the change you want to see.

The Bedside Book of Birds is a collection of factual accounts, poems, folklore, tales and myths divided into nine distinct sections, described by Gibson as different habitats – a wonderful way to divide the book. The majority of these sections are written by other authors, ranging from real experiences seen through Darwin’s accounts of tame birds in Voyage of the Beagle, to fictional pieces, such as an excerpt from Haurki Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. From ancient text written by the Mayans about the plumed serpent, to Bible excerpts about doves representing holiness, this book contains excerpts dating all the way back to B.C.

The beginning of each new ‘habitat’ starts with a piece written by Gibson himself. These passages often offer a glimpse into Gibson’s life, experiences and thoughts as an ornithologist, and the ways birdwatching has evolved over the years. In these excerpts Gibson allows us to feel the same thrill he did when seeing some amazing birds, with accounts of the Gundlach Hawk in Cuba which only a handful have seen in the wild, to unknowingly profound discoveries, such as his encounter with the Black-backed Woodpecker. In these passages we also are offered a glimpse into Gibson’s thoughts on birdwatching, ones I found very interesting. Throughout these passages Gibson often speaks of why we birdwatch, and the ways that humans imbue their own traits into birds, allowing for us to feel connected with nature. In one excerpt, Gibson explains that birdwatching can encourage a state similar to that of rapture – causing the forgetfulness that allows individual consciousness to blend with something other than itself. It is excerpts like this that really convey the passion that Gibson felt about birds and birdwatching, and it is hard not to feel the same passion he does when reading such vividly written passages accompanied by the stunning imagery throughout the book. Gibson, of course, was a champion of bird conservation, and themes surrounding this are found within these introductory passages. These are explored through a guilt that Gibson seems to feel about birdwatching, touching on the ‘possessive’ nature of humans to feel as though they own these birds by naming and seeing them, as well as touching on old birding techniques of killing the bird prior to identification. Themes of extinction and conservation are also found within many of the other passages included, however I found it pertinent that the only work Gibson included that was of his own was an excerpt from his novel Perpetual Motion where Gibson describes the way the passenger pigeon was hunted to its extinction as it was just assumed that the millions of birds would return each year, and were an endless supply.

So little does Gibson crave the spotlight for himself that the editorial section of the book ends with a poem by Siegfried Sassoon, rather than choosing to end the book with a few of his own words. It is this desire to let other authors speak for the birds in the best way possible that truly shows Gibson’s love for the avian species and made it an exceptional read by allowing us to be struck by the same wonder and awe that he and the medley of authors were. The different habitats make the book easy to pick up and put down at any point, or to peck at – like a bird if you will. As a testament to his conservation efforts, the last pages of the book direct readers to different conservation organisations in their respective countries, as well as pointing out half of the after-tax royalties of sales are donated to the Pelee Island Bird Observatory. This book has something for anyone even remotely interested in our relationship with the avian species as it is hard not to find yourself feeling the same enthusiasm Gibson does as you flip through the beautifully written and illustrated tales throughout.

***

“It’s we who have made the cages. It’s we who must open them” – Graeme Gibson

Stay tuned for next week’s FOR THE LOVE OF NATURE piece.

And don’t forget to register for Nature Canada’s Pimlott Award Celebration happening on March 2, 2022, where Margaret Atwood and the late Graeme Gibson will be honoured and recognized as champions for birds and nature. Check it out here!

The post ReViewed appeared first on A\J.

A few years later, I was taking a walk with my friend through Victoria Park in Kitchener, Ontario, admiring a couple of swans floating down the river next to the path. ‘It’s the swans!’ my friend exclaimed. I had no idea what swans she was referring to, so she explained to me that there was a famous swan couple – Otis and Ophelia – that lived in both Stratford and Kitchener. They spend their winter “vacations” at a compound in Stratford and live in Victoria Park in Kitchener for the rest of the year. These swans have been a popular source of entertainment for locals and have several news articles written about them in the regional newspapers. Perhaps people are drawn to them because they are a symbol of love and mark the beginning of spring when they return to Victoria Park: two unproblematic swans floating side-by-side, choosing each other to spend their lives with.

Source: The Waterloo Record

Long-lasting, monogamous partnerships are actually common for many bird species. Many species are known to “mate for life”. For example, black vulture (Coragyps atratus) couples have a strong connection and they just enjoy hanging out together, even in non-breeding seasons. Several other species, like the Laysan Albatross (Phoebastria immutabilis) and the endangered Whooping Crane (Grus americana), are known to spend their lives together and if one of the pair dies, the other will spend a period of time mourning before moving on. So, what is the secret to these birds’ sustained, monogamous love?

It seems Margaret Atwood and Graeme Gibson knew the secret. Atwood and Gibson shared a partnership that lasted through five decades of life. Can you imagine being with and loving a person for that long? Perhaps it just baffles me because I’m a young woman in my early twenties and it’s hard enough imagining myself being 50, let alone a relationship of mine. Atwood and Gibson seemed to have a way of love that lasted through the ups and downs of work, fame, aging, having a family – all in a changing world.

Both Atwood and Gibson were esteemed Canadian writers, but Atwood’s name seems to have been more frequently in the spotlight of Canadian literary news as her books reach a wide audience of readers. I am a late 90s baby and I grew up reading Atwood. I read her book Alias Grace in high school, and I remember finding her novels popping up in popular book lists or on the featured shelves at bookstores. I only started seeing Gibson’s works appearing in my world once I got a bit older, became an environmentalist, and began studying ecology. It was then that I realized the wisdom and great impact that his work gave this field.

Despite differences in their published works and recognition in different reading circles, Gibson was committed to his partner’s work. In an interview with The Telegraph, Atwood said the following: “He’s pretty good – he mostly just keeps out of the way. And I don’t show him my books before they’re in print. I recommend it. Supposing your spouse doesn’t like your work – then you’re in trouble.” Gibson’s support for her was always there, even if it was unseen by the public. As a young woman growing up in this world, it is refreshing to see this kind of balanced relationship, where the woman and man (at least, in heterosexual relationships) take on roles in their partnership that complement one another and do not put one behind the other. They are beside each other.

Atwood and Gibson also fought for a better world alongside one another. They both loved nature, and used their writing, actions, and voices to protect it. Gibson was a well-known conservationist and birder, and Atwood incorporated topics of environmental degradation, conservation, and climate change into her novels and poetry. Amidst the sometimes strange and undesirable dystopian worlds painted in Atwood’s books, there is always a seed of hope found in the stories. Kayleigh Dray, digital editor of Stylist magazine, writes that many of Atwood’s fans believe this hope to stem from her love with Gibson. Perhaps Atwood’s hope for the future began in her partnership with Gibson. Perhaps his commitment to birds and nature in his work sparked that hope in her stories, and together they believed in a future worth fighting for. Perhaps that shared hope, that shared vision of a better world, strengthened their love even more.

Source: Alchetron

Atwood’s poetry book, Dearly, contains several poems about nature, climate change, and futurism, but also about aging, reminiscing, memories, loss, and change. One of these poems is titled “Dearly” in which the process of “fading” is discussed – presumably, a fading feeling she experienced in herself and her partner.

“Dearly beloved, gathered here together / in this closed drawer, / fading now, I miss you.” – Margaret Atwood, “Dearly”

The poem discusses the fading of several parts of life: the word “dearly” is old and fading; the black and white Polaroids in forgotten photo albums are fading; old memories and ways of life are fading; flowers are fading as summer turns to fall. It sounds sad in a way, but when I read this poem, it doesn’t feel like the sad musings of an aging, nostalgic woman to me. It feels full and warm – like a photo album bursting at the seams, full of memories of a life lived. Or a big, old tree slowly shedding its colourful leaves after a fruitful year of growth. The fading feels peaceful, as if the speaker in the poem is gracefully moving forward and embracing a new stage of life. But she is not fading alone, she fades alongside the person she loves.

“It’s an old word, fading now. / Dearly did I wish. / Dearly did I long for. / I loved him dearly.” – Margaret Atwood, “Dearly”

How lucky we would all be to fade with someone whom we’ve grown with, shared life with, and loved dearly through it all.

As a young woman with the majority of my love life ahead of me, the lesson that I take away from seeing glimpses of Atwood and Gibson’s love is that it takes more than love and happiness to be together for life (although those two elements are still important to have). Having a sustained connection with another person seems to take devotion, finding ways to put shared values into action, having interest and support for one another’s work and hobbies, and simply being there for one another. Being beside each other, like the cardinals at the bird feeder, like the ducks in the puddles in my friend’s backyard, like the swans in the pond at the park. Finding love in the person who is and has been right there next to you. The love that is vibrant, bright, colourful; rich, warm, soft; and seasoned, harmonious, and fading through time. In my life, that’s the love I’m going to learn from and that I hope to experience in this crazy, changing world. The love from the person I draw hope from, who sustains me, and who is right there, always, beside me.

***

“In my life, I’ve loved you more” -The Beatles, “In My Life”

Stay tuned for next week’s FOR THE LOVE OF NATURE piece – a collection of reviews of Atwood and Gibson’s works related to birds and environmental conservation.

And don’t forget to register for Nature Canada’s Pimlott Award Celebration happening on March 2, 2022, where Margaret Atwood and the late Graeme Gibson will be honoured and recognized as champions for birds and nature. Check it out here!

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As you and I wrestle with the thousands of little ways that we can improve our pro-environment actions, it can be VERY frustrating when the powers-that-be seem to be using that power to be doing the exact opposite of what we’d like them to do. But who are these ‘powers’ – and how do I get me some!? 

“If I was King of the Forest…..” sang the Cowardly Lion on the road to Oz. Well, if I was King of this forested land called Canada, I know that I would take legislative steps on a myriad number of issues near and dear to me and my vision for a greener, healthier tomorrow. What kind of steps, you ask? Well, don’t mind if I do!

I’d take steps to reduce our carbon footprint and increase our caring footprint. I’d take steps to ensure that we have less oil pipelines siphoning the last of the dead dinosaur juice from our sacred grounds – and I’d sure as heck have more freshwater pipelines bringing aqua-vitae to the First Nations communities across the North who have to live without water all too frequently. I’d take steps to ensure that those most impacted, most vulnerable, to the growing pain of the climate emergency are given more voice in the decision-finding and decision-making, and that we, as a country, measure ourselves to a higher standard of living within the means of Nature.

But, truth be told, I really don’t know that much about politics, or the inner workings of the system. I’ve voted most of my life and have occasionally dabbled by assisting a friend with a campaign – but it has never gone beyond that. And it’s not as if I’m not an opinionated SOB who may be guilty of an over-fondness for the sound of his own voice. But despite my lived experiences as a white male of acceptable means, I remain intimidated and afraid to break through my barriers in pursuit of something that has always percolated in my mind.

Thankfully, some friends shared with me a link to the FLIP 2.0 summit – and it was like flipping a switch in my mind as I pivoted from “I can not” to “why the heck not”. I will be spending my Saturday learning from those in the know, those who’ve walked paths that I seek to explore. I will listen and I will learn from people of all backgrounds as they share their wisdom for summoning the courage to be king or queen of a forever-forested land.

I may never be a powers-that-be but, by the end of day Saturday, I’m pretty certain that I’ll understand that power and how best to work together with my friends and peers to affect positive change on a local, provincial and federal level. And that’s a pretty powerful way to spend the day.

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Whether you would classify yourself as a political person or not, there is no denying that political change is an essential piece of the puzzle for environmental change. If you’re interested in making positive environmental changes, it is critical to learn about and/or contribute to how politics can be used as an effective method of change. But no one has to do this alone. GreenPAC is a Canadian non-profit, non-partisan organization that focuses their efforts on enhancing environmental decision-making, building environmental leaders, and creating spaces for the public and for future environmental leaders to contribute to these causes. 

This year, GreenPAC is hosting their second annual FLIP Summit (Future Leaders in Politics) – on Saturday, January 22nd. The FLIP Summit is an all-day event that presents a diversity of speakers, presentations, networking opportunities, and participatory sessions with the theme of breaking barriers for environmental political change. This event is a great opportunity to learn about Canadian politics and its essential tie to environmental advocacy as well as hear from local politicians, interact with other like-minded people, ask questions, and learn how to get involved. 

“This year’s theme is breaking political barriers for environmental progress. We chose this theme because there are many barriers that still exist for environmental change-makers to enter or engage in politics, and we believe focusing on those barriers will make the conversations more fruitful and impactful.” -Coco Wang, GreenPAC’s 2022 Summit Director

The FLIP Summit is not only for those who know about politics or have an interest in running for office. This event is for everyone. It’s for citizens. It’s for youth whose voices need to be amplified and empowered. It’s for older folks who may not know how to break out of the red and blue dichotomy that has been entrenched in our minds (and that environmental change can happen in any party). It’s for people who love politics, want to get involved with and inspired by current politicians, and aspire to be an environmental leader. It’s also for people who don’t know what politics has to do with environmentalism but want to learn. The point here is that this event is for anyone of any age or experience-level, looking to get involved, network, or just simply learn how the system of politics can work to enhance and increase positive environmental change. 

“Every year, we encounter countless people who recognize that there is a disconnect between the kind of change they want in the world, and the progress that’s actually happening. Politics is the missing piece, especially environmental leadership in politics. It doesn’t matter what issue you care about, it doesn’t matter where or how you want to make a difference, politics is there. We may not like that, but we need to engage with politics so we know how to navigate it, how to shape it, and where necessary, how to change it completely.” -Brittany Stares, GreenPAC’s 2021 Summit Director

It is especially critical that youth feel invited to this event – and more broadly, to conversations about environmental politics – because the future of our world is the future of our youth. The next generation of decision makers need to be heard today and every day looking forward, especially when talking about long-term sustainability. We have a world of passionate youth who want to improve the world in whatever ways they can, and GreenPAC is an organization that is working to uplift those voices, and facilitate knowledge sharing, mentoring, and inspiration between current and future politicians.

“Research has shown that young people are the most engaging demographic in taking advocacy actions like signing petitions and raising awareness on issues, particularly climate change and other environmental issues. But the reality is that young people also have the lowest rate of voting in elections and have little political knowledge in general. To transform the energy and will for change, understanding and entering formal politics is crucial for our generation to push for the real changes we need.” -Coco Wang, GreenPAC’s 2022 Summit Director

Check out more details about the event, including the agenda and speakers, here: https://bit.ly/GPflip2022 

Registration is open until 1:00 PM (EST) on Friday, January 21st, so be sure to get your ticket now and be prepared to be empowered this weekend. Never underestimate the power of a speaker, a conversation, an idea – those things can spark movements, and this event is THE place for sparks to fly. We’ll see you there!

The post Breaking Barriers with GreenPAC appeared first on A\J.

The green new decade is underway!

The EcoFair’s 4-day online event showcases environmental non-profits and environmentally-friendly businesses, film screenings and discussions, webinars, games night, mix ‘n mingles and more. All for free!

• Don’t miss the EcoFair Launch Event Webinar.
• Enjoy a fun Eco-Games Night!
• Join exhibitor Facebook livestreams and eco-Humber bike ride
• At the EcoFair Finale meet exhibitors and learn more in interactive workshops.

Visit the EcoFair website to sign up for the EcoFair newsletter to get updates and event details  direct to your inbox. While there, enjoy family-friendly activities at the Fun & Games tab, explore EcoTour Maps that highlight sustainable features in neighbourhoods across Toronto, and learn about this year’s environmental non-profits and eco-businesses at the Exhibitor Showcase.

Together let’s celebrate the wonderful people, environmental groups, and eco-businesses that are helping create a greener and healthier City for us all. Everyone can share and learn tips on ways to live more sustainably, and be inspired to make a difference. The green new decade is underway!

As always, the EcoFair is organized 100% by volunteers. This event is the 13th Annual EcoFair at the Barns – now online!

Co-hosted by Green Neighbours Network of Toronto and Transition Toronto.

Start Date: November 4 2021 & Start Time: 7:00 PM

End Date: November 7 2021 & End Time: 4:00 PM

email: ecofairtoronto@gmail.com

twitter and instagram: @EcoFairToronto

MailChimp subscription: 

https://us13.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=3530d69eb9e3c548dfc46f70c&id=fa7904884c

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