Читать книгу Rescuing Ladybugs - Jennifer Skiff - Страница 15
ОглавлениеThere are angels in our waters. They are small and difficult to see, but their divine grace has kept our oceans healthy for an eternity — until now. For one dedicated filmmaker and conservationist, these often-unacknowledged little miracles put the delicate balance of life into perspective and have given her an unfaltering desire to ensure their survival.
I met Susan Rockefeller (then Susan Cohn) while sailing in the Tyrrhenian Sea — off the northeast coast of Sardinia, Italy — in the summer of 2001. The occasion was a thirty-five-day cruise to celebrate the joint birthdays of our mutual friends Dun Gifford and David Rockefeller Jr. (then Sue’s fiancé and now her husband). Within hours of meeting, Sue and I had donned goggles and were underwater, exploring. When we emerged, treading water, we talked about all the trash we’d seen — plastic, toilet paper, and bottles — and how few fish.
We soon discovered our common interests. Sue was a documentary filmmaker and writer, and I was an environmental television producer and journalist. We were sailing on separate boats, but at sunset, we came together to discuss marine life and the politics of saving the seas. We also took time to sing, dance, and laugh — a lot — which cemented our enduring friendship.
Sue was raised in Larchmont, New York. Her earliest memories are of the beach, where she remembers watching seabirds run up and down the shore, in sync with the ebb and flow of the waves. She’s always been sensitive to nature, and she spent most of her childhood outside, connecting with frogs and toads. Inside, she kept gerbils, hamsters, and guinea pigs, which she believes was testament to her parents’ tolerance for childhood curiosity. Her parents were kind to all animals and people and made a point to teach her about empathy in a simple but profound way: not only through their words but through their actions.
Following graduation from college with a degree in environmental studies, Sue moved to Alaska to live with Inuit and Iñupiat communities in Shungnak on the Kobuk River, north of the Arctic Circle, as well as in Selawik and Kotzebue. In these villages of hunter-gatherers, she introduced people to new vegetable-growing techniques that would help lengthen their short growing season. Those techniques enabled them to supplement their meat-based diets with vegetables throughout the year. The three years Sue spent with Inuit communities proved life-changing for her. She saw directly how keenly people are connected to other animals, plants, the ocean, and the climate, and how we rely on these connections for our existence.
One of the many things I admire about Sue is her thirst for knowledge. She’s a voracious reader, always interested in who is making the world a better place and how they’re doing it, what they think, and what they know. Her insatiable curiosity means her free-thinking mind is always evolving. Sue’s game-changing, deep connection with another species didn’t happen until she was fifty years old, and it wasn’t in person. It was, however, the piece of a puzzle she didn’t know she’d been searching for.
New York City, USA
There is an ethereal animal called a pteropod that lives in our oceans. At just one to two centimeters long, these tiny zooplankton are sometimes called “sea angels” because of the two large wings (also called parapodias) on their feet. I didn’t know anything about this sea snail until I was fifty years old. When I finally learned about them, they changed my understanding of the balance of life.
I was curled up on the couch of my New York City apartment reading “The Darkening Sea,” an article by Elizabeth Kolbert in the New Yorker. The piece was about the effects of climate change and ocean acidification. It referenced the pteropod as a species that was seriously affected by both. An award-winning environmental journalist, Kolbert explained that pteropods are a critical building block for food in the marine ecosystem and that they’re a source of food for many fish, as well as the ocean’s largest animal, the blue whale.
Ocean acidification — caused by too much carbon dioxide being released into the atmosphere — is devastating the pteropod population, along with that of many crustaceans, by causing their calcium exoskeletons, or shells, to become thin and brittle. Kolbert stressed that if acidification continues, the pteropod could lose its ability to produce its shell and, therefore, could cease to exist entirely. The effect of their demise would be disastrous for the world.
Kolbert’s research and her compelling writing struck home and took me back to Alaska, where I’d lived in my early twenties. I saw the awe-inspiring northern lights. I watched caribou herds and their newborn calves grazing on the expansive tundra. I witnessed schools of shimmering chum salmon headed upstream by the thousands to spawn. It gave me a perspective on life rooted in ecological abundance, indigenous wisdom, and profound gratitude for this miraculous planet we call home. I understood what Kolbert was illustrating — the importance of saving what is most precious and most vulnerable. I was touched by the fact that so many other animals depend on this tiny creature for life. I realized that if these beautiful, almost angelic, creatures are at risk of disintegrating, the consequences would have momentous ripple effects. This realization rocked my understanding of climate change and ocean health. All of a sudden, I felt keenly the plight of the pteropod, the taxing pressure to survive in an ocean environment that’s too acidic. I began to comprehend that humanity’s greed and overuse of fossil fuels had created an environment that could lead to the collapse of our oceanic ecosystems. It was apparent that we needed to prevent any further increases in CO2 emissions if we wanted our planet to thrive.
This moment of enlightenment came when I fully grasped the reality of what was going on in the oceans — that life is an intricate web and that each creature on this earth has an intrinsic beauty and purpose. There is small and invisible life on this planet that supports us all. The pteropod is one example of these often-unacknowledged species, and there are countless more, ranging from microbes that support soil health to the millions of marine creatures in the sea.
Reading Kolbert’s story put everything in perspective for me. It was the piece of a puzzle that fit together with everything I’d learned about ocean acidification up to that point. The message of the article was clear: The simple pteropod is a crucial building block, and the beauty and bounty of our oceans are dependent on these tiny creatures. When I realized this, I was inspired: I wanted to protect this fragile web of life. The realization also motivated me. I wanted to keep our earth more vibrant and beautiful, to celebrate life in all its forms, and perhaps most of all, to be thankful for all beings, big and small. With the human population of our planet expected to reach nine billion by 2050, I wondered how we could protect those beings, reverse the trend toward the extinction of species, and give hope to the intricate and mysterious web.
Alongside two close friends, I decided to coproduce a film called A Sea Change to educate others on the effects of carbon dioxide on our waters. Specifically, the film documents how the pH balance of the ocean has changed, with a 30 percent increase in acidification since the beginning of the Industrial Revolution. It cites experts who predict that at the current rate of increase in carbon dioxide emissions, acidity will continue to rise in kind. They say that over the next century, the world’s fisheries will collapse into a state that could last millions of years.
Following A Sea Change, I produced a second film about our oceans. Mission of Mermaids: A Love Letter to the Ocean links the myth of the mermaid to ocean health. It’s a poetic ode to the seas and a plea for their protection. With the objective of igniting global conversation about ocean protection and conservation, I created a line of message-inspired jewelry. To keep the conversation going, and to highlight the work being done by people driving positive change, I founded Musings, a digital magazine, to address complex global issues in an easily digestible format. The magazine profiles thought leaders in entrepreneurship and responsible innovation who provide inspirational calls to action.
I joined the board of the nonprofit Oceana in 2011. The group works to save oceans using sound scientific research and global advocacy. This work has been extremely rewarding because you can see the effects of being on a team of people with the same mission.
Thanks to that one moment of enlightenment inspired by the pteropod, I’ve become truly passionate about helping others understand the fragility of our ecosystem. I live each day in wonder and mystery, thrilled by the beauty and bounty of this earth. I hope to demonstrate how we can bring back its bounty and resilience by moving toward a greener economy and giving our oceans time to rest and rebound from our relentless extraction of fish. Humans are encroaching into so many environments that much of our biodiversity is at risk. We need everyone at the table to help celebrate all aspects of life, to connect with empathy for all animals, and to work together to protect this precious place we call home.
As a documentary filmmaker, writer, and artist, Susan Rockefeller uses the power of storytelling and art to inspire awareness and to mobilize action across a range of environmental and philanthropic causes.
As a conservationist and ocean advocate, she is creating global change that helps animals and human beings. Since its founding in 2001, Oceana has achieved close to two hundred victories and protected more than 3.5 million square miles of ocean.
Have you ever rescued a ladybug?
As a child, I would muck around ponds and the woods near my home and collect frogs and take care of them. I also once took care of a bird with a broken wing. When it comes to rescuing ladybugs, I have only done so metaphorically. I am inspired and moved to protect those other ladybugs — the pteropods and the millions of creatures on this earth who do not have a voice to protect themselves.
Name three things that make you happy.
Family, art, and nature.
What one book, documentary, or speech has had a profound effect on you?
My Traitor’s Heart by Rian Malan. It is one of the most honest autobiographical accounts of living in South Africa and is chillingly brilliant in its honesty about race, apartheid, and the human heart. As for a documentary, I would say The Salt of the Earth about the work of photographer Sebastião Salgado.
Regarding your food choices, how do you describe yourself?
I am a flexitarian. My diet is 90 to 95 percent plant-based and the rest is mostly grass-fed meat, wild salmon, local lobsters in Maine, and pasture-fed chicken, eggs, and artisan cheeses.
If you had one message to deliver to others, what would it be?
To be on a journey to lead with love and protect what is precious to you.
If you had one wish that was guaranteed to come true, what would it be?
That we all learn to lead with love and have empathy toward ourselves and all sentient beings.
What advice do you have for people who say that they want to help animals in need but are too debilitated by what they witness?
Start with one small action. Once you’re on the path, you will meet others who will support you and give energy and the conviction to do more. Take one step at a time and begin. It can start with rescuing a ladybug; it can start with helping a blind person cross the street. Start small and connect. Open your heart and see where your path will take you.
