Why Do I Remember the Life of a Bird?

The Passenger Pigeon Memorial at the Cincinnati Zoo and Botanical Gardens

(Originally posted September 1, 2020)

On September 1st 1914, a small heart stopped beating. She fell softly to the ground. She had no family to comfort her, but the world still mourned her.

Why do I remember the life of a bird?

It seems odd, I suppose, to pay respect for a bird that died over a hundred years ago. Every year, either on or near the first of September, I return to her cage at the Cincinnati Zoo and Botanical Garden. If you’re reading this, then I am there or have already visited today. Martha was the last of her kind, the last of the passenger pigeons. The passenger pigeon was once the most numerous species on the North American continent. Flocking in the billions, a single flock had the ability to block out the sun. Then, within a single generation, they were gone. A complete species eliminated by man.

I can’t really say why, this single bird species of which I have never seen in the wild, influences me as greatly as it does. The memorial at the zoo was a place that my father would make sure that we visited as a child. When I was older working at the Cincinnati Museum of Natural History and Science at Union Terminal, I passed painted passenger pigeons within a mural every day, as I worked in the Ice Age Exhibit. And still years later, I would write and produce one of my finest plays, Martha, based on the life of the last pigeon.

For the longest time, I saw the destruction of the passenger pigeon as the epitome of man’s avarice. A window into the selfish, maleficent nature that allows oneself to become unnecessarily cruel. Sean, don’t you think that it is a little harsh? Once you learn the cruel tricks that they would employ to kill the birds, you might think the same.

However, one can not dwell on the dark deeds of the past. For seeing only the evil cannot move you towards a better future. You must learn and rise above to become the versions of ourselves that we hope the world sees within us.

I now view passenger pigeons as a catalyst. A catalyst for a movement, that despite some recent barricades, continues to grow today. There was a great effort to save the passenger pigeons, when it was apparent that time was running short. These efforts proved to be unsuccessful, however, the spirit of wildlife conservation that it started continues today.

Sean, don’t you write a post every year about Martha? Yes, I do and I will continue to do so for as long as I have a venue. However, I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge this year, 2020.

As of this writing, the United States of America has lost over 180,000 lives to the COVID-19 virus. This is more than the number of US casualties lost in World War I (116,516), the Korean War (36,574) and the Vietnam War (58,220) (not combined). Due to the politicization of this pandemic, it is likely that these lost American lives will be forever forgotten due to the disagreements on the attribution of blame for the crisis. No memorials for these fallen and in time they will be forgotten. And if not forgotten, then lumped together in a single passing paragraph in a future textbook of our history.

However, if you look within Pandora’s box, you can still find hope. Hold onto that hope. After we lost the passenger pigeons to time, we found hope and used it to begin to save other species, such as the California Condor. Once again, I implore you to find the hope that was buried deep within the box. Together, united, we can overcome the difficulties before us and win the fight against this common enemy. We must do this together. We can only survive, if we put aside our petty differences and focus on what really matters. We must fight to survive. We must fight for our souls. We must fight for the freedom to fly, unencumbered, once more.