Nature in New Providence

There is a thin metaphorical line between human cities and nature.

Smooth-billed Ani

Australian Pines along the beach

In rich urban areas around the world, humans often try to build a big, impenetrable barrier between themselves and nature. We spend an inordinate amount of time and money to try to keep nature from intruding into our living space. Granted, often what we try to keep out is pests (ants, flies, mosquitoes). But, of course, the line is never impenetrable. That fact is more obvious in some places. The island of New Providence, on which Nassau, the Bahamas sits, is 21 miles long by 7 miles wide. According to locals, it is increasingly hard to find birds and wildlife on the island. There are a number of itinerant dogs that roam neighborhoods and seem to integrate themselves into the Bahamian landscape. Beaches and water are obvious to the traveler in Nassau. Yet,I have noticed that it is uncommon to see shorebirds while on New Providence. The introduction of Australian Pines (Casuarina), a hearty tree that adapts salt and droughts to provide windbreaks, has hastened the demise of many indigenous plants by its aggressive growth. It is becoming harder to find the “real” Bahamas.

The decline of biodiversity does not mean that nature has been subsumed by humans. Across the island several building (in various states of repair) are slowing succumbing to the inexorable adaptation of nature. Trees and plants begin to reclaim land left fallow; paint and wood cannot resist water and wind. Nothing is static. While the decline in indigenous birds, animals and plants is noticeable, little sparrows that appear in the local Super Valu grocery stores is a reminder that it is impossible to completely draw a line between humans and nature and expect the latter to respect it.

Island countries like the Bahamas might be the one optimal places to observe this thin line. As the effects of climate change begins to mount, small island states like the Bahamas are particularly vulnerable. With the highest point of land a mere 206 feet (63 meters) above sea level (Mount Alvernia on Cat Island), a substantial rise in sea level will have devastating effects on the country. As an archipelago, rather than a volcanic island, the cottony is flat and vulnerable not only to rising seas, but to increased wave activity and stronger than normal storms as well. As I write this, small island states on the other side of the globe are being devastated by a major cyclone.

Nature has a way of reminding us periodically that humans cannot conquer it. We would do well to remember that and plan accordingly.