I’m sitting with the windows open, listening to the wildlife and watching spring explode in real time while I work on various ICH tasks. I’ve been especially enjoying all the ducks quacking, which isn’t usually terribly pleasing to the senses, but means so much to me.
When we bought our house in 2011, it was a huge change in lifestyle for this city kid. I was excited to spend more time outside with my family, without the chaos of a packed neighborhood, but I was also really worried about the culture of a small town. Some of those fears were definitely founded, but the tradeoff was having our own space, with wetlands and a pond abutting our property, and the luxury of privacy and peace. I loved watching the birds and listening to the ducks swim around quacking at each other. We even had a favorite, who always sounded exasperated with his duck friends.
But a couple of years later, the pond started to disappear. We had our suspicions about who did it and why, and called the town conservation agent. He came and said it seemed that someone dug out a culvert and drained the entire 15 acre wetland. Only a small stream and a few vernal pools remained. No more ducks.
We made reports to the relevant authorities, but without knowing for sure who was responsible it wasn’t even possible to file a complaint. I spent so much time being angry at the unfairness of it, and avoided spending time out in our little woodland retreat. Years later, when I confirmed my hunch about who had drained the pond, my anger was renewed but I felt so powerless to do anything about it after so much time had passed.
Then a couple of years ago, my husband brought me down to the pond to show me that the beavers had started doing the work that we weren’t able to do. They built up new dams, and the pond was filling back up. I was thrilled–for a few weeks. When we returned home from a weekend trip, the beaver dam had been torn down, and another neighbor’s dog found a dead beaver in the woods. This time I fought back. I called our new conservation agent, who came out with the state enforcement agency and agreed that there was a violation, especially given that the wetland was a protected turtle habitat. I filed a formal complaint and the violation was heard at the town committee meeting. I thought the system might finally work, and even imagined that we could get our pond back. But again, nothing happened. Today the pond remains mostly dry, my “neighbor” continues to destroy any beaver habitat that pops up, and the recurring droughts over the past few years have dried up the little water that remained. Trying to sue just seemed like too much to take on for our busy family, so I’m back to avoiding the woods and contenting myself with telling everyone who will listen about what a jerk the guy is.
This ongoing saga feels like a real microcosm of everything we’re facing today as a country. A single person can do so much damage just because he wants to, and that damage is long-lasting with ripple effects for everyone. Our institutions of government, large and small, are failing us. Our rights are only guaranteed if someone is willing to protect them, and it seems that fewer and fewer people have the resources, principles, and the power to take those stands. We can only fight back with the meager tools that we have at our disposal, and they probably aren’t going to be enough to stave off the destruction we see all around us: to families and communities, to institutions that advance knowledge, to our ponds and wetlands.
But this year, for whatever reason, the ducks are back. They are hanging out in the little vernal pools, quacking away. As I write this it is raining, and they sound happier than they’ve ever been. They are making their way despite losing ground, and so will we. Maybe this year I’ll file a lawsuit after all.