William Blake was a poet, painter, printmaker, mystic, and, I vouch, a protoenvironmentalist. His painting: Job Confessing his Presumption to God, who answers in a Whirlwind, represents the crisis of his life. Job had a great life with his large family and immense possessions until he lost everything. The folktale is usually taken as a parable that questions God for allowing suffering (or letting pesky Satan loose), but it can be read another way. Job regards himself as an entitled master of all he owns. As a righteous man, he deserved it! But God, speaking out of the whirlwind, asks (in other words), “Where were you at the Big Bang, the Age of the Dinosaurs, and the start of the Agricultural Revolution?” Job is depicted as the shrunken figure crouching under the Godhead. If Blake could look down from heaven today, over two centuries since the paint dried, he would see colossal results of arrogance as the species that regards Earth as its dominion despoils it in a blink of cosmic time.
Wildfires are mainly a problem for Westerners, aren’t they? Hardly! The USDA Forest Service’s wildfire risk map shows Southern California is a persistent hot spot. Our friends’ home in Altadena survived the Eaton Fire earlier this year, and few homes were as lucky in the Palisades. But the danger doesn’t end there—states to the north and east, as far as Texas and Oklahoma, now face growing risks. The reasons vary. In some places, it’s the urban–wildland interface pressing against expanding suburbs. In others, dense forests, dry brush, and parched grasslands create tinderbox conditions, especially when strong winds sweep through. Rising temperatures and prolonged droughts driven by climate change only add fuel to the flames. Easterners can no longer afford to be complacent. Florida, New Jersey, and the Appalachian Mountains—especially in Kentucky and West Virginia—are increasingly vulnerable, though for different reasons. Our own home in the Allegheny Mountains offers little defense against fire. The tin roof might help, but the house itself is mostly wood, standing in a small clearing surrounded by a forest of mixed hardwoods and red spruce. Rotting logs and fallen leaves carpet the ground. There’s just one escape route by vehicle—a long, snaking driveway that winds through the woods to a country road. You might wonder if we sleep easily at night after watching wildfire news from elsewhere. Strangely, we do. Neighbors reassure us that “a fire won’t go far here—the forest floor stays moist.” But the present is not a simple extrapolation of the past. The landscape is not the same as before the great logging boom that ended a century ago, and the climate is changing fast. We see many signs: invasive plants pushing into higher elevations; winters that once guaranteed deep snow from November to March now fickle and shorter; creeks and springs that ran year-round now dry by late summer. With little rainfall since midsummer (a repeat of last year), wells across the valley have gone dry, so homeowners must truck in water to refill underground tanks. Meanwhile, from the comfort of a White House or the manicured greens of a golf course, the “Commentator-in-Chief on Climate” calls global warming “the greatest con-job ever perpetrated on the world.” Science and our perceptions are denied again. Ho hum.
There’s a White-eyed Vireo still singing in the garden and two Ruby-Throated Hummingbirds still visiting our nectar feeder. They will soon be on their way, flying overnight with millions of other summer visitors observing the shorter days and cooler temperatures. Last Sunday, September 14, Doppler radar for BirdCast recorded 526,500 birds crossing our James City County boundaries, from soon after sunset until the wink of dawn. Their numbers peaked at 4.00 AM as they flew SSW at 32 mph on average and at about 1000 feet elevation. A third as many crossed on Monday night, and only an intrepid 2,300 last night, in stormy weather. From ground observations in the past, we expect the following species migrating, and are perhaps overhead even as I write: American Redstart, Eastern Wood-Pewee, Northern Parula, Summer Tanager, Caspian Tern, Green Heron, Hooded Warbler, Blue-Gray Gnatcatcher, Yellow-throated Vireo, Palm Warbler, Yellow-billed Cuckoo, Magnolia Warbler, Yellow Warbler, and Scarlet Tanager.
I have been writing a Substack titled What’s Hot in Fertility? since March 2024. It offers “digestible news and views about reproductive health and science” with excursions into politics and society. If this interests you, please sign up for illustrated posts of about 1,000 words appearing every couple of weeks. Free subscription. I have no intention of monetizing my writing. Find me by googling rogergosden.substack.com Examples of essays:
Embryos and Ethics – when gray matter matters
Reproductive Freedom and Power in Project 2025 – where in the world is America going?
Making Babies on Mars – manifest destiny or manifest error?
Kids and Cats (or Dogs) – kinds of companionship
When Glands Become Killers – cancers of the reproductive system through a biologist’s lens
Godmother of the Pill – Katharine McCormick
Jean Marian Purdy – the hidden life of an IVF pioneer
Coming soon: De-extinction of Iconic Creatures – at or beyond the limits of science
Not much stirs on a sultry afternoon in the Alleghenies. There’s a raven croaking, a Tiger Swallowtail swooping, a bluebottle fly buzzing around in crazy circles. And what seemed at first sight another butterfly, it rises from obscurity on the dirt to hover a few feet up on pale yellow and black wings. Dropping back on the ground, it disappears by folding its colors under brown forewings. Why does a large, juicy insect advertise itself as an easy meal for birds? It is a Carolina grasshopper. Locals call it a locust. It belongs to the family of notorious migratory locusts in Africa (Acrididae). This species has a voracious appetite, as you might expect for an insect 2 inches long with large jaws for chomping vegetation, but it seldom swarms to harm farmland anywhere across its range, which is the entire continent except high elevations. I watched several grasshoppers for 30 minutes, wondering why they beat their wings conspicuously and noisily, making them easy prey for birds. The fliers were males taking courtship dances and vying with each other to attract mates as the larger females watch them perform. Back on the ground, they give chase, but don’t always succeed with a picky female. They reminded me of American Woodcocks, a species I look forward to seeing in springtime. They are perfectly-camouflaged on the ground or lying on a branch, and make a nasal sound on their dazzling courtship flight. This similarity lends new respect for grasshoppers.
Roger musing about Peace with Nature 