Orion September / October 2013

HERE IN western Massachusetts, as summer begins to turn to fall, the talk has turned to bats. Or more specifically, to the absence of them, because people haven’t seen very many. I myself have seen none, and a field in which I used to watch dozens of little brown and big brown bats flying at dusk has had not one. Decimated by white-nose syndrome (a disease that affects hibernating bats), bat populations in the Northeast have plunged dramatically. And it’s not just the dearth of bats that has had people puzzled — they also remark on a general absence of monarch butterflies, honeybees, and fireflies. Aldo Leopold stated that “one of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds.” For Orion, which…

Bryant Austin’s photographs of whales have been exhibited around the world. Beautiful Whale, his first book of photographs, was published by Abrams in April 2013. Martha Cooper is the director of photography at City Lore in New York City. Her photographs of urban art and architecture have been exhibited in museums and galleries worldwide, and published in magazines from National Geographic to Vibe. Joe Donnelly is an award-winning writer and editor from Los Angeles. He recently launched Mission and State, a nonprofit experiment in digital news and narrative. Amy Glynn Greacen’s poetry and essays appear in Poetry Northwest, New England Review, The Best American Poetry anthologies, and elsewhere. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. Nick Hayes’s first graphic novel, The Rime of the Modern Mariner, reimagines Samuel Taylor…

Thank you, Orion, for having the courage to print David Treuer’s essay “Trapline” (May/June 2013). I want Orion’s contributors to challenge more of the dogmas of environmentalism — to make me think, even if it makes me uncomfortable. And one topic that seems to make many environmentalists uncomfortable is indigenous people who violate romantic notions of “primitive living.” Treuer’s piece draws on this tension well, and it includes detail about trapping that will make some readers squirm. But he also pulls our attention to the common fact that all people have the inclination and the right to seek out technology that improves their chances of survival. More subtly, but no less important, Treuer reminds readers that cultural identity is both fluid across time and defined by its members—not by the…

Leave No Child Inside, the latest anthology in the Orion Readers series, will be published in September. This collection of essays is a must-read for teachers, parents, and anyone concerned with building a connection between children and nature. Depending on who you ask, magazine advertising revenue is up… or down. But here at Orion, it’s the same as ever: zero. Instead, we rely on support from readers like you to fill these pages with articles, poetry, and art, instead of ads. Help us keep Orion ad-free by donating at www.orionmagazine.org/donate It’s not too early to start thinking about holiday gifts, especially since gift subscriptions to Orion are currently two for the price of one. Gift recipients receive an acknowledgment card sent on the giver’s behalf and six beautiful issues of…

1. IT’S LIKE COMPARING APPLES AND ORANGES. The difference between apples and oranges used to be so stark that to compare them would have been, well, fruitless. But thanks to the triumphs of agriculture and biotechnology, soon we’ll have apples that are oranges. No word yet on whether they’ll keep the doctor away. Update: It’s like comparing apples to genetically modified apples. 2. THE EARLY BIRD GETS THE WORM. Reaping rewards is sometimes just a matter of being one step ahead of your competition. Birds, with their punctual proclivities, have long known this. But warming climates are throwing off their migration schedules, leaving them out of sync with their food sources. Being early no longer guarantees a damn thing. Update: The early bird gets just as many worms as…

Cassandra Kane Portland, Maine WHEN THE FOG shrouds Casco Bay in a muddle of mist and the nimbus clouds release their deluge, I stand on my apartment stoop, close my eyes, and listen. Six miles to the southeast, from its rocky promontory, the fog signal at Portland Head Light (the most photographed light-house in the world, purportedly) sounds its caution to incoming vessels. It also signals me to pause, breathe in the mist, and connect to the damp world around me. One rainy fall evening, while I was reading and drinking a mug of pepper-mint tea, the foghorn reached my ears through the closed window of my bed-room. The sound calmed me in a way no tea or poem ever has. Was I entranced by some trick of physics? I…