Remembering lost species

Featured image: Remembrance Day for Lost Species. Art by ©Saba Hajek

I have never seen an Amur leopard. Not in a zoo, and not in the wild.

I learned of its existence when I was a cat-obsessed child. I knew all the common and scientific names of all the world’s species of wild cats. I collected pictures and stuck them into a scrapbook and surrounded them with drawings of red hearts and passionate declarations of undying admiration. One such picture was of the Amur leopard, the rarest of them all.

Recently, while watching Frozen Planet II’s camera trap footage of an Amur leopard sharing a forest trail with a Siberian or Amur tiger, I was filled with wonder and awe all over again. And with gratitude. Gratitude for the knowledge that creatures of such astounding beauty walk this Earth. I don’t need to see them with my own eyes; it’s enough knowing they exist. By the same token, my gratitude for the miracle of their existence would be matched by a profound sense of desolation if I was told they had become extinct through our actions.

Extinction is not unlikely. There are an estimated 120 Amur leopards left in the wild, and only 500 or so Siberian tigers. But conservation groups are working hard to save them and may yet succeed. Many other species have not been so fortunate: every year, dozens are documented as having become extinct.

In fact, biodiversity, the richness of life on Earth, is declining. There are more than 147,500 species on The IUCN Red List, with more than 41,000 species threatened with extinction, including 41% (almost half!) of amphibians, 38% of sharks and rays, 34% of conifers, 33% of reef building corals, 27% (more than a quarter!) of mammals, and 13% of birds.

The word ‘extinct’ is so often linked with mentions of a species in the news, it has become almost meaningless. Let’s spell it out: Extinct means gone. The animal or plant has gone forever. Its voice silenced; its presence erased. And when these voices and presences die, most of us don’t even notice the lack, let alone miss them. We simply continue living in an increasingly impoverished world. If ‘extinct’ was similarly linked to mentions of humans as a species, we would pay more attention. Wouldn’t we?

I prefer ‘lost’ to ‘extinct’. Lost carries with it a sense of agency and of lament. Lost makes it personal. The implication that we might only have temporarily misplaced a species allows for the remote possibility that it may still be found if we only cared and worked hard enough. Or, at least, of setting things right for the species that remain. Because, let’s face it, we are losing Earth’s species, for the most part, through our own actions.

This is why, on November 30th, I will mark Remembrance Day for Lost Species. It is a day when I think of the beings that have disappeared or are disappearing from our lives or the places we love. I think of the natural phenomena that have vanished from our experience (where are the fireflies?). And I think of the natural habitats that have been diminished or ruined. I remember that we are Nature, too.

Expressions of relationship with Nature help us all comprehend and face the emotional truth of our loss and our collective responsibility for that loss. They help us grieve for, and praise, the beings and habitats and natural phenomena that have been lost or are doomed through our actions. And they help raise awareness of accelerating loss of Nature while inspiring us to reduce and counteract harm to the Nature that remains.

So, on November 30th, I invite you to share personal expressions of love for, and connection with, the natural world. Write a story or poem, sing a song, play a piece of music, create art, or simply light a candle. Dedicate it to Nature and share it with me. Share it far and wide.