3 ms·
> this once extremely verdant forest island I don’t think you will have many supporters for this claim. > Nantucket! Take out your map and look at it. See wha
by Kon-Peki 3y ago
> this once extremely verdant forest island
I don’t think you will have many supporters for this claim.
> Nantucket! Take out your map and look at it. See what a real corner of the world it occupies; how it stands there, away off shore, more lonely than the Eddystone lighthouse. Look at it- a mere hillock, and elbow of sand; all beach, without a background. There is more sand there than you would use in twenty years as a substitute for blotting paper. Some gamesome wights will tell you that they have to plant weeds there, they don’t grow naturally; that they import Canada thistles; that they have to send beyond seas for a spile to stop a leak in an oil cask; that pieces of wood in Nantucket are carried about like bits of the true cross in Rome; that people there plant toadstools before their houses, to get under the shade in summer time; that one blade of grass makes an oasis, three blades in a day’s walk a prairie; that they wear quicksand shoes, something like Laplander snow-shoes; that they are so shut up, belted about, every way inclosed, surrounded, and made an utter island of by the ocean, that to the very chairs and tables small clams will sometimes be found adhering as to the backs of sea turtles. But these extravaganzas only show that Nantucket is no Illinois.
- jl2718 3y agoI can explain. This bit of Melville exposes some uncomfortable truths about the age in which he was living, the "little ice age". First of all, he's writing from the perspective of a whaler, who may never have seen anything of the island but Coatue, where they would dissemble their ship for transport across the deep sands into the safety of the harbor for winter. The main inlet was too shallow for transport, and later had to be dug out to bring in ships for development of the town. Around then or soon thereafter the bulk of the island was used for farmland. The location of the house in that article was called "Ram's Pasture", but I had observed it to be impassably dense for such a use, so I was curious and sought to discover why it was once so barren. It turns out that the original natives were quite reckless with fire. They would use it as a hunting tool, and quickly depopulated the entire island of all large flora and fauna, leaving the Wampanoag to find subsistence only in the shores thereafter. When Europeans negotiated land rights, they started grazing ruminants, but preferred not to burn, so the forests grew back rather quickly, and the farmers eventually left. This had been happening all over North America, and the rewilding effect was so dramatic that it dropped the temperature of the earth. Property rights saved the world. You won't hear that from most urban hipster environmental activists, but it was the second time I had heard it, first from the eco-resort villages rewilding the East side of Dominica. There 1000 whiteys pay $1000 each to see giant leatherbacks drift in to lay their eggs, but a local with a hatchet got there first for the $100 he'll make selling turtle soup. I digress, but it's really the same thing. The wild western reaches of the island became irresistible to the ultra-wealthy, and those rude pastures grew into some of the most desirable real estate in the world. It's now going back in the other direction, and you can probably tell I don't think this is a good idea. Nature there has tremendous financial value, as single-family estates comprise 95% of tax revenues, but the tourist industry is 95% of the population, more organized, and more vocal by orders of magnitude, and they want golf courses and bars. The truth is that development destroys value. People will pay a lot to be left alone with nature. So that's what happened. Natives who discovered the land quickly destroyed it, then property rights brought nature back for a bit, and now populism is giving it back to the masses to do as they wish, but it seems the ocean will have the final say.