Dusky Seaside Sparrow: ‘Minds on Dollar Signs’

Barry Bearak’s article (Jan. 3), “Tiny Birds Soon to Sing Swan Songs,” concerning the imminent extinction of the dusky seaside sparrow, brought to attention a particular point. No one cared. Herb Kale said, “Not many people came out fighting for a tiny little bird few people had even seen, Not many, and then it was too late.” “We raised a fuss about the dusky, but not everyone was that concerned. Most minds were on dollar signs.”

But I care. In the last half century, the wildlife extinction rate has increased 50 times that of our evolutionary past. Presently, there are at least 800 varieties of wildlife considered endangered of extinction.

As the last dusky seaside sparrow falls to Earth, obliterated into eternity, the “just an ounce of bird” leaves behind in its lonely shadow a greedy, ugly, tarnished, but ever so naked reflection of the morality, conscience, and responsibility of the strongest and most intelligent of life, Earth’s Caretaker, man.

If the little bird had been a marketable commodity, it would be so rare and so valuable as to be priceless, but instead it was just an absolutely perfect, masterpiece of genetic art, a one-of-a-kind blueprint for life on this planet. The glory of the sparrow was its utter existence, an earthly companion, a fellow traveler. Even its beautiful, melodious name is relevant to life on Earth: dusk, the color of our world just in its last twilight.

We don’t own this Earth. It never was or never will be our possession. We are here for just a brief passing, a short journey. What we do to Earth, we also do to ourselves. Animals weren’t put here for us to obliterate, abuse, exploit, or to consume. It was meant, with our superior intelligence, that we comprehend the essence of their vulnerability. They are a gift for us to enjoy, to share in their magic and revel in their beauty and sweet, innocent charms, each perfect and glorious in its own uniqueness.

But as the haunting aria that only the dusky can sing is silenced forever on the savanna, and as his own little palette of original colors and hues fade into the darkness of eternity, and as a magical link in a divine, utterly priceless chain is severed without ceremony or even thought, and as I lament my sorrow and grief, I am not alone in my abysmal shame and disgust with my own species. There is someone else who cares too. It’s in the Bible somewhere.

He knows when every sparrow falls to the ground.

MARIANNE GRIFFIN Long Beach Barry Bearak, thank your for your beautiful, well-written, touching, and informative article.

I had never before heard of the dusky seaside sparrow and did not know that our National Aeronautics and Space Administration had bought its marshland habitat on Merritt Island in Florida and had its mosquito abatement experts spray insecticides poisoning the duskies along with the mosquitoes.

Nor did I realize that commercial and residential development of the St. Johns River Valley on the nearby mainland irretrievably damaged the remaining habitat of this beautiful little bird and that now all the females of this species have been killed by human intrusion.

You made me stop and think to understand how we have succeeded in making this world a little less for our children.

ROGER ANDRIOLA Sacramento