Dragonflies, Medaka, and Fireflies: Can We Leave Them for the Next Generation?
Prologue | Can You Notice When They Are Gone?
When I was a child, I watched them without thinking.
Dragonflies chased with a net. Medaka swimming in a bucket. The trail of fireflies glowing in the night.
They were not "something special," but "part of the scenery."
But—
Where are they now?
It is not that they have disappeared.
It is that we have stopped noticing they are gone.
This is not just the extinction of species, but the extinction of sensitivity.
Chapter 1 | The Sky Where Dragonflies Vanish: Who Stole the Air?
Dragonflies were the symbol of wetlands and watersides.
Nymphs (larvae) live in rivers and ponds, surviving in the water for months.
The sight of them emerging and taking flight is truly the very "connection from water to sky."
But now:
• Rice fields are surrounded by concrete
• Pesticides have eradicated aquatic life
• Rivers have been straightened by embankment work, making the flow too fast
Dragonflies are a symbol of the memory where the waterside and the sky were connected.
Their disappearance signifies the collapse of the "bridge called the ecosystem."
Chapter 2 | The Rice Fields Where Medaka Swim: A Place Where the Water Died
Medaka were once seen in rice fields all over Japan.
Children scooped them up, parents taught about them, and grandparents told stories of them.
A cycle of small lives was repeated along with the flow of water in rural villages.
But now:
• Concrete irrigation channels due to land readjustment
• The birth of "stagnant water" due to the introduction of irrigation pumps
• A drastic decline due to the influence of non-native fish and pesticides
Medaka are not just fish.
They are "proof that water was flowing to sustain life."
Water still flows today. But life does not flow with it.
Chapter 3 | The Night When Fireflies Glow: The Extinction of Darkness and Silence
Fireflies glow.
But that light can only be seen because of the darkness of the night.
For fireflies to live, they need:
• Clean water
• Riverbeds (sand/mud) where larvae can live
• Freshwater snails (kawanina) as food
• And, for the night to be dark
Streetlights, security lights, car headlights, residential development—
When "darkness is lost" due to light, the light itself also becomes invisible.
Fireflies are a symbol of delicate harmony that can only exist within the connection of darkness, water, and silence.
Conclusion | What Can We "Show" the Next Generation?
An "endangered species" is not just about living things disappearing.
It is also about "no longer being able to pass on a certain landscape."
Dragonflies, medaka, fireflies.
Each constituted a "layer" of nature: water, sky, and light.
• Dragonfly = connection point between sky and water
• Medaka = connection point between people and the life of rice fields
• Firefly = connection point between the sensibility of light and darkness
It is important to leave these for the next generation "as living creatures."
But more than that, the question is whether we can talk about the "landscape, structure, and ethics that they were part of."
In Closing | While We Can Still Talk About "Nostalgia"
If your children or grandchildren
do not know dragonflies, have never seen the glow of a firefly, and only know medaka "from picture books"—
at that moment, we will have not only lost life, but also lost the "memories we can talk about."
To leave something for the next generation means
not just protecting life,
but also protecting the landscape that we can talk about.
Supplementary Chapter
Fences are boundaries for leaving landscapes for the next generation

Beyond the fence along the river, grass was growing and yellow flowers were blooming.
It might look like just a cluster of weeds.
However, if you look closely, the layer of the waterside remains there.
There is water.
There is grass.
There is soil.
Insects come.
The wind passes through.
Flowers bloom.
Shadows fall.
A waterside is not made of just a river.
It is made of water, grass, insects, light, shadows, and the distance humans keep so as not to get too close.
Once, children chased dragonflies, scooped medaka, and saw the glow of fireflies.
They were not individual creatures, but part of the landscape.
The dragonfly was a life connected from water to sky.
The medaka was a life dwelling in the flow of rice fields and irrigation channels.
The firefly was a life that could be seen precisely because darkness, water, and silence remained.
But when they disappear, it is not just the creatures that are lost.
The memory of the waterside is lost.
The sense that the sky and water were connected is lost.
The experience that the night was dark is lost.
The eyes to find small lives are lost.
In other words, sensitivity also goes extinct.
The fence along the river is a safety facility for humans.
But at the same time, that fence is also a line to keep humans from stepping too far into the waterside.
Because people do not step in, the grass remains.
Because the grass remains, insects come.
Because insects come, the landscape gains depth.
Because depth remains in the landscape, something remains that can be talked about to the next generation.
A fence is not something that traps nature.
It is a boundary to pass on, just a little bit into the future, the landscape that humans would destroy by getting too close.
Of course, just putting up a fence does not restore nature.
If the water is polluted, the medaka will not return.
If the riverbed is dead, the fireflies will not return.
If the waterside grass is mowed down, the dragonflies cannot emerge.
Therefore, what is needed is not the fence itself.
What is needed is a sense of how close humans should get, where to stop, and what to leave behind.
The fence might be the embodiment of that sense.
From here on is a place for humans to use.
From here on is a place to leave for the side of the river, grass, and insects.
From here on is a place that, even if you can see it, you must not trample.
As long as such boundaries remain, the landscape will not be completely lost.
Dragonflies, medaka, and fireflies cannot be left for the next generation individually.
What should be left are the conditions under which they can live, the sensitivity to find them, and the landscape that allows us to talk about them.
The flower blooming beyond the fence is just a small flower.
But within that smallness, the conditions for the waterside to still be a waterside remain.
Not overlooking that.
That may be the beginning of leaving something for the next generation.
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