Post by KT on May 10, 2015 23:23:11 GMT -5
I'm sure most of you might be familiar with my long standing irritation over claims that rewilding is more akin to playing in the woods (meant in a negative way, of course) than anarchist praxis. There's a side note due here to point out, once again, that rewilding, in and of itself, is part of the process of undoing domestication, not the answer to ending civilization.
With that put aside, there seems to be no question that while "skepticism" over rewilding as anarchist praxis is on the rise, radical subjectivism continues to infect anarchist discussion at an alarming rate. Even more pathetically that this moves into "green anarchist" circles. Grounding itself has even become a target. I will continue to argue that this lack of real world understanding and even keeping language that is in some way relatable or understandable will continue to file down any claws an anticiv anarchist approach might carry. It rids our ability to really see the writhing in the forest.
While foraging is a means to actualize self reliance, it is intrinsically tied to learning to understand and read ecosystems. Nature, for lack of a better word, does revolve around cycles. While it has no order in the sense that civilized humans have created, it does have function. There are necessary weather patterns. And those patterns are being fucked.
I really, really, really hope this isn't news, but I feel like the absence of that fact from most modern "green anarchist" discussion is what allows this otherwise philosophical plight to occur. Cycles, by nature, are grounded realities. But they aren't an external process, they are open to observation once you step outside temperature controlled environments and grocery stores. And when you take that step, you'll quickly realize how deep this shit gets. What we hear about Arctic sea levels rising and ice melting, is clearly evident in the soil.
This is something that has been going through my mind non-stop over the last decade of foraging. Any semblance of cyclical patterns has been waning with speed and ferocity. Morel mushrooms are an indicator species. If you haven't had much experience with them, I can't overstate their taste nor the excitement of the hunt. I have always called them the anarchist mushroom, because they have some predictability, but they're extremely finicky: to a certain degree, they do what they want. There are books upon books written about how to hunt them and everyone has their own theories, but after continually finding some beautiful Common Morels under pines, you just have to say that their elusive nature sells books, but theories don't determine their availability.
But there is one constant: weather. Morels grow pretty typically in late April through mid-May in most of the US unless you have burn site and mulch morels like Washington state and (I believe) parts of Oregon. Temperatures can fluctuate, but this time typically sees more rain and moderate temps with little to no time below freezing. Rain and soil moisture are the key elements, more so than sun.
Over the last decade, I've seen that reliability of seasonal habits change greatly. At this point, it's well beyond alarming. I would go so far as to say that I haven't had a "normal" morel season for nearly a decade (for my family, in a normal year we'd hunt morels in the thousands). What we're seeing is complete vulnerability at key points. Whereas that season could span 4-6 weeks in a good year (Black and Half-Free Morels to Commons), that window can collapse into 2-3 weeks without proper rain, late deep freezes or extreme heat. If the heat kicks up and the rain stays back, the eventual rain will cause the surrounding foliage to absorb the water quicker, pushing those plants further up and absorbing more sun. In that case, morels stand little chance of maintaining their necessary inputs and simply don't grow, grow quickly, or don't gain much size.
This year has been the worst year in my nearly 15 years of morel hunting. All growth has been impacted in all areas that I've seen in Pennsylvania and Maryland. Rain has been scant at best, but temperatures have been running extremely high. The ground hardens and the eventual rains (especially the torrential downpours) simply wash away (taking topsoil with them). There's an awkward attempt at some balance between how water is used between plants and trees, but the soil is clearly suffering. The result, absolutely minimal morels.
Now this might sound like a minor point. It's not. Morels might be a prized food, but they aren't unlike many other plants and fungi in having innate symbiotic relationships that sustain ecological cycles and health. Life, both civilized and not, requires this ecological balance. No amount of philosophy will save us from the fact that no water means no food. Wild and domesticated. If you can identify a distinct and succinct link between worsening weather changes and overall climate instability and the viability of one, two, three, or five million species, then it becomes more obvious: we don't have time. This beast is collapsing, but the rate and path it takes will ultimately be the greatest determination in how badly this ends. We aren't looking at any good scenarios, but that gives more reason to get our hands in the dirt to try to understand just how deep this crisis runs.
The irony here is that foraging is rewarding. To me, it's giving some ease and rootedness. At this point it's almost as therapeutic as it is life giving. I still find pure joy in every single morel that I find and yet the more elusive that search has become, the more acutely aware I have to become of the fact that as goes the morel, so goes the morel hunter. Amplify that thought across every single bit of sustenance and it becomes easier to see why rewilding necessitates resistance and vice versa.
The earth is real. The earth needs us to fight. It stands to remind us of what lies ahead, what we cannot see, even in plain sight.
With that put aside, there seems to be no question that while "skepticism" over rewilding as anarchist praxis is on the rise, radical subjectivism continues to infect anarchist discussion at an alarming rate. Even more pathetically that this moves into "green anarchist" circles. Grounding itself has even become a target. I will continue to argue that this lack of real world understanding and even keeping language that is in some way relatable or understandable will continue to file down any claws an anticiv anarchist approach might carry. It rids our ability to really see the writhing in the forest.
While foraging is a means to actualize self reliance, it is intrinsically tied to learning to understand and read ecosystems. Nature, for lack of a better word, does revolve around cycles. While it has no order in the sense that civilized humans have created, it does have function. There are necessary weather patterns. And those patterns are being fucked.
I really, really, really hope this isn't news, but I feel like the absence of that fact from most modern "green anarchist" discussion is what allows this otherwise philosophical plight to occur. Cycles, by nature, are grounded realities. But they aren't an external process, they are open to observation once you step outside temperature controlled environments and grocery stores. And when you take that step, you'll quickly realize how deep this shit gets. What we hear about Arctic sea levels rising and ice melting, is clearly evident in the soil.
This is something that has been going through my mind non-stop over the last decade of foraging. Any semblance of cyclical patterns has been waning with speed and ferocity. Morel mushrooms are an indicator species. If you haven't had much experience with them, I can't overstate their taste nor the excitement of the hunt. I have always called them the anarchist mushroom, because they have some predictability, but they're extremely finicky: to a certain degree, they do what they want. There are books upon books written about how to hunt them and everyone has their own theories, but after continually finding some beautiful Common Morels under pines, you just have to say that their elusive nature sells books, but theories don't determine their availability.
But there is one constant: weather. Morels grow pretty typically in late April through mid-May in most of the US unless you have burn site and mulch morels like Washington state and (I believe) parts of Oregon. Temperatures can fluctuate, but this time typically sees more rain and moderate temps with little to no time below freezing. Rain and soil moisture are the key elements, more so than sun.
Over the last decade, I've seen that reliability of seasonal habits change greatly. At this point, it's well beyond alarming. I would go so far as to say that I haven't had a "normal" morel season for nearly a decade (for my family, in a normal year we'd hunt morels in the thousands). What we're seeing is complete vulnerability at key points. Whereas that season could span 4-6 weeks in a good year (Black and Half-Free Morels to Commons), that window can collapse into 2-3 weeks without proper rain, late deep freezes or extreme heat. If the heat kicks up and the rain stays back, the eventual rain will cause the surrounding foliage to absorb the water quicker, pushing those plants further up and absorbing more sun. In that case, morels stand little chance of maintaining their necessary inputs and simply don't grow, grow quickly, or don't gain much size.
This year has been the worst year in my nearly 15 years of morel hunting. All growth has been impacted in all areas that I've seen in Pennsylvania and Maryland. Rain has been scant at best, but temperatures have been running extremely high. The ground hardens and the eventual rains (especially the torrential downpours) simply wash away (taking topsoil with them). There's an awkward attempt at some balance between how water is used between plants and trees, but the soil is clearly suffering. The result, absolutely minimal morels.
Now this might sound like a minor point. It's not. Morels might be a prized food, but they aren't unlike many other plants and fungi in having innate symbiotic relationships that sustain ecological cycles and health. Life, both civilized and not, requires this ecological balance. No amount of philosophy will save us from the fact that no water means no food. Wild and domesticated. If you can identify a distinct and succinct link between worsening weather changes and overall climate instability and the viability of one, two, three, or five million species, then it becomes more obvious: we don't have time. This beast is collapsing, but the rate and path it takes will ultimately be the greatest determination in how badly this ends. We aren't looking at any good scenarios, but that gives more reason to get our hands in the dirt to try to understand just how deep this crisis runs.
The irony here is that foraging is rewarding. To me, it's giving some ease and rootedness. At this point it's almost as therapeutic as it is life giving. I still find pure joy in every single morel that I find and yet the more elusive that search has become, the more acutely aware I have to become of the fact that as goes the morel, so goes the morel hunter. Amplify that thought across every single bit of sustenance and it becomes easier to see why rewilding necessitates resistance and vice versa.
The earth is real. The earth needs us to fight. It stands to remind us of what lies ahead, what we cannot see, even in plain sight.
