Shannon Dodge, "Gobble-Gobble"
Picture an azure mountain ridge. Along this vast ridge is a forest. Inside this forest are trees of oak, hickory and pine. Nestled among these trees, deep within the timber, grows a rare lily. Diverted by broad leaves and dense pine needles, filtered sunbeams awaken the thin blades of evergreen grass. Still rubbing their sleepy eyes as they begin to peer out from under the acidic topsoil, the crimped leaves stretch their stiff fingers with aching persistence. These leaves establish their rank by forming clumps, just as the main stalk rears its swollen head. Extending itself to heights of over 1.5 meters, the stem races to absorb the generous light streaming down from above. Perched on the tip of the towering stalk stands a myriad of flowers, each with six white tepals, six stamens, and a single ovary. These delicate blossoms develop alongside shiny, green fruits that bear the seeds of generations to come. The time is the present. The place is the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. The character is the endangered Turkeybeard plant. To all appearances, this is a simple story with a simple plot. A plant grows, reproduces and dies. It is the cycle of life, as we know it. But take a closer look. Reality is not as it seems in the Turkeybeard Zone. This plant teeters on the brink of danger. For man’s unrelenting control of nature may mean death for the Turkeybeard. The oppressive beast stalks the horizon as it feeds its starving wrath. Filling itself up with drafts of warm, moist air, the storm begins to roar and quake. It rolls through the atmosphere on a vast layer of dry air seeking to relieve its built up indigestion. Droplets of water trickle through the seams and into the arid air below where they are absorbed before they can soothe the parched ground. No longer able to contain the tension, the storm bursts with lightening. Thrust through the cloud lining, these bolts scorch the parched forest with explosive energy. Sparks fly, flames burst, and the forest ignites. The fire consumes every leaf, branch, and strip of bark as it descends upon its fuel. From victim to victim, the blaze increases the reach of its deadly path along the forest floor. In the wake of destruction, all signs of life are destroyed. Lonely trees slouch in their scorched skins. Mourning breezes spread the ashes of plants into the smoky sky. The smoldering ground gasps for breath from under the thick layer of death. All life has been destroyed, except for the Turkeybeard. Fire. Nature’s own growth control. It destroys and it creates life. For the Turkeybeard plant, fire brings vitality. The Turkeybeard emerges from beneath the cinders with a renewed zest for life. Flowers erupt in massive blooms. Fruits and seeds multiply in magnitude. Fire is a source of stimulation. It is a promotion of reproduction. It is significant to the symmetry of nature. What happens to this balance when man intervenes? When our self-preservation extinguishes the flames? When our greed outweighs our qualifications? When we interrupt the cycle of life and death? When we cease to respect nature’s capabilities? This is all very much a part of the Turkeybeard Zone. Shannon Dodge is a Biology and nonfiction English major at George Mason University. She writes an Ecology series for The Broadside, Mason's newspaper. Shannon recently published two articles with National Geographic.
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