Dante's Heart
The Extinction of Frogs: A Tale of Heroes
Daniel Fusch
I cannot explain what saddens me about extinction. I do not have the words of a
biologist. I only remember my tears as a child, when I ran out in the dark before
dawn to open the gate so my dad could drive the old Dodge pickup through on
his way to work. A large red frog leapt out of the bushes, flashing into the
headlights, and landed right in the path of his wheel. It was a sad thing, that frog
crushed on the road. Its leap into the light had been so beautiful. I remember a
bullfrog the size of a football croaking in an impromptu pond that the rains made
in the school playground, and all of us boys around the edge of the pond, daring
each other to go catch it. I remember the several-mile walk along the edge of the
wood between the bus stop and our small farm, and the little pool along the way,
where I would stop for an afternoon hour in the spring and watch the tadpoles.
When I cupped one in a tiny pond in my hands, how it wriggled, slimy and tickling!
I remember how the little green pasture frogs would leap man-high out of the
grass as I ran through it. I remember Jess's tears when I showed her the first news
articles about the tragedy in Panama. The frog has always been her totem,
sacred to her and a sister-sign of her own playful spirit.
A moment ago, I said this is was a beautiful story we are in, as well, though I
suspect few are thinking of it. What is beautiful is the feverish race, the ingenuity
and bravery of the biologists who are even now, as I write this, hurrying to find
ways to save this beautiful piece of Creation. The Washington Post Foreign
Service correspondent Manuel Roig-Franzia describes the effort with more
poetry than ever I could:
The volunteers found glass frogs with skin so translucent that their organs are
always on full display. They picked up frogs that look like rocks and eat
freshwater crabs, aggressive tree frogs and shy, nocturnal toads. (3)
There are heroes in Central America this year, many whose names we do not
know. They are ignored by much of the rest of the world, as Central America is
often ignored, and likely they will remain ignored unless a terrible migration of
this fungus into other areas occurs, devastating other ecosystems. Ignored, but
heroes nonetheless. Mass extinction is among the several most terrible facts of
history: it impoverishes our world. What will our world be like, how quiet and less
colorful, after the death of frogs?
Daniel Fusch
Editor, Dante's Heart
For more information on the crisis...
Daniel Fusch
I cannot explain what saddens me about extinction. I do not have the words of a
biologist. I only remember my tears as a child, when I ran out in the dark before
dawn to open the gate so my dad could drive the old Dodge pickup through on
his way to work. A large red frog leapt out of the bushes, flashing into the
headlights, and landed right in the path of his wheel. It was a sad thing, that frog
crushed on the road. Its leap into the light had been so beautiful. I remember a
bullfrog the size of a football croaking in an impromptu pond that the rains made
in the school playground, and all of us boys around the edge of the pond, daring
each other to go catch it. I remember the several-mile walk along the edge of the
wood between the bus stop and our small farm, and the little pool along the way,
where I would stop for an afternoon hour in the spring and watch the tadpoles.
When I cupped one in a tiny pond in my hands, how it wriggled, slimy and tickling!
I remember how the little green pasture frogs would leap man-high out of the
grass as I ran through it. I remember Jess's tears when I showed her the first news
articles about the tragedy in Panama. The frog has always been her totem,
sacred to her and a sister-sign of her own playful spirit.
A moment ago, I said this is was a beautiful story we are in, as well, though I
suspect few are thinking of it. What is beautiful is the feverish race, the ingenuity
and bravery of the biologists who are even now, as I write this, hurrying to find
ways to save this beautiful piece of Creation. The Washington Post Foreign
Service correspondent Manuel Roig-Franzia describes the effort with more
poetry than ever I could:
The volunteers found glass frogs with skin so translucent that their organs are
always on full display. They picked up frogs that look like rocks and eat
freshwater crabs, aggressive tree frogs and shy, nocturnal toads. (3)
There are heroes in Central America this year, many whose names we do not
know. They are ignored by much of the rest of the world, as Central America is
often ignored, and likely they will remain ignored unless a terrible migration of
this fungus into other areas occurs, devastating other ecosystems. Ignored, but
heroes nonetheless. Mass extinction is among the several most terrible facts of
history: it impoverishes our world. What will our world be like, how quiet and less
colorful, after the death of frogs?
Daniel Fusch
Editor, Dante's Heart
For more information on the crisis...
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