When herds of Bison roamed the Great North American Plains, every kind of grass that could grow there was intermingled. You can still see this kind of prairie now, in a few isolated preserves in Oklahoma and Kansas.
In the Tallgrass Prairie, you walk on complex thatches of all different kinds of grass – long and stumpy, feathery and stabby, flowery and reedy. Every landing of your shoe releases a scattering of hopping insects. They issue from your footsteps like showers of luminous sparks. You are walking on a jungle, a teeming, tangled thicket.
This whole thing, grass and bugs and bison and birds and weather, this is a wild living being, a culture – one that survived for thousands of years, a distinguished Elder among Earthlings.
Now nearly all of it is gone, replaced with cash crop monocultures.
Shelter such Wilds, wherever you find them, like you do your baby. They hold powerful life forces. They are living multicultures and evolutionary laboratories.
When the plague hits, a monoculture suffers. A diverse system is more resilient. A mutt is mighty. Purity is a cult and a scam.
a change gon come