The Birds and the Bees – and the Bugs

The Birds and the Bees – and the Bugs

By Christopher Platt

I took a little ride in the country yesterday. Top down, I drove north out of Manhattan on the Palisades Interstate Parkway, to Bear Mountain and Harriman State Park, about an hour out of the city. Drove slowly around there for an hour, enjoying the lakes, trees, mountains and abundant sunshine. I came back down from Bear Mountain on the Taconic State Parkway. Trees and more trees, rivers, lakes, streams, for at least 90 out of the 110 miles I put on the car. When I got home and pulled into the garage, I noticed something I’d seen before, although today, for some reason, it made more of an impression. After four hours driving through the woods, there was not one single bug squashed on my windshield. None on the front bumper, none on the hood, either. No bugs. On a hot summer day in New York State.
It wasn’t long ago that such a drive would have resulted in a windshield coated with tiny, crushed carcasses that were, frankly, a bitch to clean off. Whole automotive product lines have sprung up to meet this need, which – in some areas of the planet, is serious enough to create hazardous driving conditions. Not today. Not here.
And I realized something else. In all my time driving through the woods, there were virtually no birds, either. I was surrounded by forests, mountains, the mighty Hudson River. There should have been birds in abundance. Once I left the rock doves (that’s pigeons to you) of Manhattan behind, I saw nothing but three Turkey Vultures the entire day. Wasn’t long ago on such a drive that you would see or hear dozens of birds – Blue Jays, sparrows, finches, warblers, a robin or two, nuthatches, cowbirds, catbirds, grackles, crows, starlings, tufted titmice, cardinals, red-winged blackbirds, and many, many more. But, not today. Not here.
Okay, I hear you saying, too bad about the birds, but what’s so bad about not having to scrape those nasty bugs off your windshield? Normally, I’d agree with you, but, ecologically speaking, this total absence of bugs is very disturbing. It also could be one reason there were no birds, either. Let me explain. Insects are a vital part of our ecosystem -- unlike ourselves. Insects eat and destroy smaller organisms that could do us much harm. Some carry disease, but other, predatory species actually consume some of the bad actors. Insects, in turn, are food for larger creatures – many birds, bats, fish and small mammals depend on insects as a food source. The beautiful Purple Martin, for example, the largest of the swallows, has a reputation for eating thousands of mosquitos a day. In reality, it probably eats way more dragonflies, damselflies, butterflies, moths, grasshoppers, katydids, mayflies, cicadas, beetles, flies, wasps, midges, and flying ants. No insects, no Purple Martins. And those same insects are the food supply for many other birds, too. I don’t know about you, but projecting my day’s drive into next year’s dire headlines, a world without birds would be a depressing place.

In fact, the new edition of Audubon Magazine talks at some length about the decline in numbers of common birds across America. It’s real. It wasn’t just me.

A few months back, we read a lot about how honey bees were disappearing, hive populations crashing or established colonies seemingly departing the area for parts unknown. The potential disaster from the decline of just this one species of insect could be immense. Bees don’t just pollinate decorative flowers and wildflowers, they also pollinate the flowers of many fruit trees. Apples, cherries, pears, plums, peaches, apricots and so on, including many citrus varieties. No bees, no fruit. No almonds, either, and there are many other crops we take for granted that depend on bees.

Well, you get the idea. There’s more to the birds and the bees than just a discussion you need to have with your pre-teen. Let’s cut to the chase, skip to the worst-case scenario, the “end of all life as we know it” scenario. Nearly ten years ago, a terrific writer named Charles Pellegrino penned a scary science fiction novel entitled “Dust.” As the novel opens, the hero, a paleobiologist, leaves his home on Long Beach Island, New York, for work one morning, and drives off unaware of the deadly plague sweeping over the island behind him. A thick black dust, like soot, is spreading unchecked, devouring every living creature and thing in its path. Turns out, it’s a carnivorous swarm of common bed mites that have “gone amok” as reviewer Susan Dunman put it. Even worse than this horror, she says, “the disappearance of flies, mosquitoes, bees, lightning bugs, ants, butterflies and frogs point to a severe breakdown in the entire ecological system, heralding dire consequences of biblical proportions. The demise of whole insect populations removes essential functions such as pollination, fungal control and organic decay. While rivers choke with rotting carcasses, crops wither from lack of pollination and uncontrolled fungal growth.”
The premise is thought-provoking. Dunman notes that Pellegrino asks “… a deceptively simple question -- what would happen if all the insects in the world began to die? After centuries of fighting the pesky critters, humans finally get their wish when bugs mysteriously disappear. But just as with King Midas' gold, there is a horrible curse within the granted wish, and the absence of Earth's lowliest creatures has cataclysmic repercussions for the rest of the food chain.”

I don’t have the answer to this question, but I suggest that the question is worth asking, and sooner, rather than later. Habitat destruction, pesticides by the mega-gallon, an environment in shambles. Pellegrino’s tale seems logical on its face, and he provides plenty of footnotes to back up the facts he presents in the novel. However, the way his scientists solve the crisis is very “Jurassic Park,” and may not be possible yet with today’s technology. It’s bad enough having a world without fruit, without birds. I like not having to clean my windshield, but -- if it came down to a choice between a clean windshield and the end of civilization… pass the Windex, will you?

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