What would the last migration be? What would the last species of its kind call for? Who are we if we abandon those places and creatures we love? Who are we if we no longer recognise or value the beauty of places of wilderness, the night sky, the tenuous and fragile links and interconnectedness of our natural world? If we lose these precious places, we lose our ability to dream, to imagine, to create and then what future do we have?

There is a Great Blue Heron that lives very close to our house in Abiquiu that we often see wading amongst the rushes and reeds of the Rio Chama. It is there year round, summer & winter seeking sanctuary. In the last few years of desert drought I have seen it stand sentinel by the deeper pools. It stands on the edge of its wetland, a place of renewal, an oasis in the desert, as an act of faith. It is completely engaged, completely present. A “feathered Buddha casting blue shadows” on the sand, fishing in the shortest day of the year.” (Terry Tempest Williams). The winter and summer solstices turn in it and turn in us.

We seek the same places of refuge, we belong to the same tribe now of fractured individuals who can only commune with remnants of wilderness.