I HAD A DREAM
THE WATER WAS BLACK WITH DEATH AND PEAT RUN OFF
.
"He said he came from afar in search of Shetland’s legendary beauty and multitude of birds, but so far he had found neither birds nor beauty."
"I asked why this village, which I remember as being so full of fun and children, was so empty, and she said that no one wanted to live here any more."
.
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(imagen omitida)
Above picture : bird facing deadly obstacles after crossing the Strait of Gibraltar. Reports of bird mortality at windfarms, commissioned as they are by the developers themselves, rarely reflect reality. Ornithology consultants are bound to silence by clauses in their contracts : they can´t talk to the media, or publish anything about what they have seen.
THE FOLLOWING IS A LETTER FROM PAUL BLOOMER, RESIDENT OF THE SHETLAND ISLANDS
Courtesy of : The Shetland News
24 March, 2008
I had a dream
Last night as I laid down my head I dreamt a dream.
In need of solace I headed for the hills and soon lost my bearings.
The ancient cairn I used as a landmarker was gone and in its place was
a giant windmill.
In need of rest I looked for a place to sit and tried to settle at the
base of this great graffiti stricken rusting beast. Amongst the broken
glass and beer can filth I looked around and found myself in an
industrial landscape with wind turbines stretching as far as the eye
could see.
Suddenly I heard a truck driving up the giant road that cut into the
hills. Then men and boys unloaded motorbikes and screeched around the
track they had made into the heather.
Distressed I began to draw and looked to the sky in search of
spiralling lapwings, but instead all I could see was the never ending
spiralling of windmill blades cutting into this once tranquil air like
a knife in the night.
Unable to draw I began to walk and found myself at the shore of a loch
where years ago I could catch a dozen half pound, ruby encrusted,
brown trout with ease. I fished on without a fish. Then I looked into
the water and noticed that it was black with death and peat run off.
I threw down my rod and walked again. Then in the distance I saw a
traveller. As he approached I noticed that like me he too was weeping
and heavy laden. I asked him where he was from and what was he doing
here. He said he came from afar in search of Shetlands legendary
beauty and multitude of birds, but so far he had found neither birds
nor beauty.
He enquired where he could see merlins and whimbrel and I said they
had not been seen round here for some time. Even the curlew and snipe
had nowhere to rest their heads on this hill and the skylarks no
longer sang, though the bonxies were doing well on the dead birds that
lay beneath each turbine.
We bid farewell and he said he would not be coming to these isles
again. In despair I headed back to the village to seek out the company
of friends and when I knocked on the door of the dishevelled house a
bleary-eyed woman answered who I did not recognise.
I enquired what had happened to my friends and she said that several
years after the turbines had arrived they could take the noise and
visual intrusion no more and unable to sell their house they had upped
and gone and let it out to her. I asked why this village, which I
remember as being so full of fun and children, was so empty, and she
said that no one wanted to live here any more.
I started to run as fast and far away as possible but no matter how
far I ran in any direction I could still see the turbines.
Dazed and sweating I collapsed into a heap and then suddenly I was
awakened by the sound of a skylark singing high above the house. I
looked outside and the hill was still intact and I realised it was
indeed a very bad dream.
Paul Bloomer
Brake Cottage
Bigton
Courtesy of : The Shetland News
24 March, 2008
MORE ABOUT WINDFARMS : The negative effects of windfarms: links to papers published by Mark Duchamp
>> Autor: Mark Duchamp (26/03/2008)
>> Fuente: Paul Bloomer
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