A Mission to Heal Our Planet
A Mission to Heal Our Planet Amanda Burrell | EP of Investigative, Al Jazeera English
I could feel the bird’s tiny heart beating in the palm of my hand. It was extraordinary to think that this creature, which seemed so slight and vulnerable, had covered thousands of kilometres since the start of its migration from Africa. This bluethroat had been caught in the nets surrounding a ringing station at the Aras River Wetlands in the remote northeast corner of Turkey. I had come here in April 2019 to film for earthrise, Al Jazeera’s award-winning environmental solutions series. I’d heard about an ornithologist, Professor Cagan Sekercioglu, who had made it his mission to protect this patch of wetland, a prime spot for migrating birds. He and his team had recorded almost 300 birds there, 21 of which were threatened, or close to being threatened, with extinction. A more immediate danger was looming, however. The government planned to build a dam that would submerge the wetland under 45 metres of water. The birds, like the bluethroat I was holding, which depended on it as a pit-stop during their migrations, would have no place to go. “Hold it still while I take a feather sample,” said Juan Ramirez, a Spanish ornithologist who was teaching me how to collect the bird’s data. He was one of hundreds of international volunteers who
came to work here every migration season. He showed me how to blow on the bluethroat’s chest to assess its fat levels - pink skin signifies that it is undernourished and yellow that it is plump enough to travel - and how to tell its age from its feathers. This bird was in good shape and I was amazed to learn it was only a year old. Its first spring migration and it knew instinctively where to go. Nature truly is incredible. Cagan was fighting in the courts to save the wetland. He hoped that all the data gathered would provide evidence of its rich biodiversity and, thereby, ensure its protection. That afternoon we drove down the Aras River valley to see a dam that had already been built. The contrast between the lush wetlands, replete with the sounds of birds, insects and trickling water, and this desolate, eerily still lake was striking. I could see little vegetation and no birds. As we continued our journey to the next location, the valley deepened until it became a magnificent gorge. I was lost in thought, gazing up at the steep slopes, noticing the reddish hue of the soil, the power of the craggy volcanic rocks, and a bird of prey soaring high up in the air currents above.
But then we came across a sight that stopped us in our tracks. We got out of the van to take a closer look. Dust rose up from below and with it came a cacophony of engines, falling rocks, men shouting. Bulldozers were gouging the side of the valley, and a conveyor belt of dozens of lorries carried soil and rubble up roads slashed into the slopes, returning empty for more. Another dam. And this one was going to be colossal. I thought of the tiny bluethroat and felt helpless. How could it stand a chance against development on this scale?
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