The present

The present is an important time.

By now, the present is in the past.

And there is nothing you can change about the past.

However, the only time you can change the future

Is right now.

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Why?

You might ask, “Why do I help the Vaquita?”

And my answer is, “Why wouldn’t I?”

I cannot force myself to think of a world without Vaquita.

They have helped shape much of my young life, from the early online research to now.

They have inspired me to do things I never thought were possible—or had the courage to do.

They have given me the confidence to stand up and make a difference in this dying world.

They have presented me with endless ideas for poems, books, and artwork.

They have saved me with the knowledge that I am saving them, and they still have a chance.

The Vaquita has given me so much, and now it is my turn to give back to them.

I know the day the Vaquita dies will make me want to do the same.

It is this fear of loss that has pushed me for years to make a change.

And you may ask, “Why save the Vaquita?”

And my answer will always be, “Why not?”

Baba Dioum

I am very inspired by this quote that can be found on the ¡Viva Vaquita! website. It is by the Senegalese ecologist Baba Dioum:

In the end we will conserve only what we love;
We will love only what we understand;
We will understand only what we have been taught.

It really reflects the whole purpose of my blog: to teach.

Legend

*Based on a Mexican legend

Many years ago,
In the land of Mexico,
Some warriors with magic powers
Could shape-shift to and fro.

They used these powers to protect their lands
Of fine women and mariachi bands.
The lives of every villager
Were in these people’s hands.

One of these few men
Had the name Water Coyote.
He would sit down on the grass
And calmly eat peyote.

He could morph into an animal that dwells in the great sea.
Smaller than a man;
Ends with A and starts with V.

Or he could turn to a coyote, with heart, brain, and soul.
And howled to the moon
In a sky as black as coal.

He loved his people above all things,
And got the rewards
That being kind brings.

One day he got out of bed,
An arrow of war sailed overhead.
He rushed home to see a battle—
His men were being killed like cattle.

He fought with his brothers for seven days and nights.
Everyone of them died, and
He ran away with all his might.

Crying the whole way home,
He eventually found his village.
They were very glad to see him,
But he told them of the pillage.

They cried through the night,
Weeping until dawn.
Mourning their lost men
Till they saw the sun.

Coyote then took every last person
Down to the salty ocean.
He gathered smooth blue rocks;
They pondered this commotion.

He placed one stone
‘Neath the tongue of ev’ry boy and girl.
And, one by one, they entered the water,
Transforming in a swirl.

They all became Vaquita,
Their spirits joined their brothers’.
They still live to this day,
But might not live another.

The arrival

I watched the sun sink in the horizon;

It was time for it to visit other places.

The gulls that squawked all day finally took wing

And roosted on the land that I would dock on shortly.

The lapping waves started to die.

Sweat stopped dripping from my tank top.

I decided to nap before I embarked on my homeward sail,

But before I put my hat over my face,

The fins began to appear.

Like a web

Like a web,

the net

devoured my soul.

With invisible hands,

the net

gouged my body.

Like a whirlpool,

the net

sucked me in;

stabbing me with knives,

wrapping me up.

I rolled to escape

the net,

but it was no use.

The net

tightened,

suffocating me.

The net

stopped my heart.

She was beautiful

Sun made its way

to her back,

Casting a morphing shadow

on the powdery sand.

Bubbles slipped out of her lungs,

dancing to the swirling surface.

She rose up

toward the beckoning sun.

Her blowhole inhaled

the salty air,

Refilling her lungs

like a balloon.

She noticed a ship

in the distance.

Binoculars and cameras faced her,

flashing.

She floated in glory,

admired by the many people.

She was beautiful.