The Great Loss

Some days there is just a lack of activity on the Bayou...at least on my side.  Down a ways from the Bayou but still near here, there is a flurry of work underway.   It makes me sad.  If there is one thing that I have learned to hate, it is the sound of tractors tearing up trees.  For the past five days from sun up to sun down, some folks are clearing a lot to build a house.  This lot just happens to be on the island part the of the opposite shore of my Bayou.  By island part, I mean the outer portion of the shoreline that has been cut by tides from the mainland.  A bridge was constructed to connect this island to the mainland.  But now, these folks are tearing out every tree on their lot.  The big machines are digging huge holes to extricate even the tap roots of trees that have stood through floods and hurricanes.  Some of these trees are probably over a hundred years old but not any more.  They are gone.  It seems such a shame to ruin a perfectly good tree for naught. Most were simply plowed over and not even salvaged as lumber.  This all makes my stomach churn.

It, also, must be a tad disturbing for the critters that have lived on the island for years.  The simple quiet is now replaced by disruptive ruckus like no other.  My side of the Bayou has become a safe haven for these critters. Since we own the entire Bayou, itself, at least that is some comfort.  The critters can have free reign of this small area. They know that I will not harm them and actually welcome each and every one.  Today, I noticed a Great Blue Heron fly out of the lot as soon as the tractors started roaring.  The bird flew to my yard and took refuge in a dead pine.  Here the bird stayed for the remainder of the day..staring at the place it used to call home.  Poor bird.  I so wish I could console it.  Other than merely allowing it to sit in peace, I did not know what to do.

It does make me wonder just how many other critters are being displaced by the work.  I am not opposed to people building houses but, for the life of me, I cannot see ripping out every tree that stands.  When Mark and I built the Little Bayou House, we were highly selective of the trees we removed.  We surveyed the property to find the area with the least trees of any size as our house site.  Of course, hurricanes and disease have taken many but still, I refuse to cut live trees.  (We did lose 69 trees to Hurricane Katrina.  I believe this was the hardest thing for me to accept.  My beloved trees were mangled!)  In a way, I am like that Heron.  I forlornly stare at the island and shudder with the thought of my critter friends losing their homes.