The Fate of Endangered Species
I believe that thicket was more than just "greenery." It was a world where time had accumulated, where invisible connections breathed within the soil, quietly supporting and cycling life.
Just a two-minute walk from my home.
That small forest existed so close by—or perhaps I should say, "that forest used to be there."
Last autumn, under the management of the local government, the thicket was almost entirely cleared. I can understand that this was a decision made to protect the lives of citizens, considering the dangers of old or fallen trees, as well as concerns regarding sunlight and crime prevention. In fact, I believe it was an appropriate response from an administrative standpoint.
However, at the same time, there was another world there. During this time of spring, a yellow flower would bloom quietly and with dignity—the Kinran (Cephalanthera falcata). It is not only beautiful but also a delicate and precious plant that relies on an environment formed over many years. It was in 1997 that this flower was designated as an endangered species (by the Ministry of the Environment). It is a flower that must be protected.
The Kinran is a plant that can only thrive through the dappled sunlight, the layer of fallen leaves, and a symbiotic relationship with fungi in the soil. In other words, it is a life that can only exist when protected by the ecosystem of the "forest itself."
With the clearing of the trees, that environment was reset. Large heavy machinery rampaged across the land, most of the surface vegetation disappeared, and the wildflowers that had long nestled beside the Kinran were wiped out. The newly planted saplings might be for conservation to create a future landscape, but there is a disconnect from the ecosystem of this very moment.
That is why I thought last autumn:
Perhaps the Kinran will not bloom again.
But—
A few days ago, what caught my eye was a small yellow light. When I approached to check, it was undoubtedly a Kinran. Amidst that massive environmental change, it was still standing there.
"Oh, it was alive..."
The moment I thought that, I felt my heart fill not just with relief, but with a deeper emotion.
The soil was shaken and transformed, the environment changed, the trees, plants, and fallen leaves that had protected it were gone, and yet, seeing it stand there, having tried to live and having survived, I felt the strength of life.
Now, the sky over that place is wide open because the trees were cleared. Even in early spring, the light is much stronger than before, and in summer, even harsher sunlight will pour down. It is by no means a gentle environment for the Kinran. Still, this flower certainly bloomed this spring. This fact is good news that no one can change, but I do not know if it is a life that can endure this drastic environmental change in the future.
The number of Kinran has certainly decreased significantly. But it has not reached the point where life is extinguished. How much meaning is there in that alone? The meaning of continuing to exist. However, I do not know if the clusters will increase from here on out. I do not know if it can adapt to the new environment.
The only thing I wish for is that this small life continues to live in this place. Amidst environments and landscapes changed by human convenience, nature should not disappear completely. I want to give it the strength to endure this harsh environment, this trial, which has been altered by human hands.
It tries to remain there, quietly but surely. I feel that this Kinran has resolutely taught me the importance of "just being there. The fact that life continues to exist." No matter what environment it is placed in, it shows that it can bloom its own flowers. Even though it is a short-lived flower that withers in just a few days, it is a spring where I cannot help but think of the Kinran, a flower that showed a fierce protest against humans and nature, and bestowed hope and courage upon us.
Photo by Cosmorama