Man’s mechanics and machinery have contaminated Carrot Island. Nature, however, is not so easily conquered.
The motor boat’s droning hum accompanied by the air, heavy with humidity, carried us away from the familiar marine lab into the unknown of Carrot Island. Stepping off of the boat, burs and thorns greeted us; behind us, the high tide hungrily swallowed the thinning shore. The four of us dispersed in different directions. With no final destination in mind, I wandered and soon found myself surrounded by sand pits and evergreens. There was no longer any sign of water or town. I isolated myself within nature, or so I thought.
Hidden in ominous shadows of trees and underneath whispering leaves, cicadas maintained a constant trill. The occasional crickets accentuated the song while birds frequently chimed in a note or two. The vibration of dragonfly wings maintained the piece’s tempo, while bees buzzed. I found serenity and tranquility, until I heard the hum of mosquitoes.
No longer did I find my surroundings placid and inviting. The oppressive humidity suffocated me the way a boa constrictor mounts its prey. My sweat was like honey to the insects who eagerly feasted on my flesh. I frantically but unsuccessfully swatted away the buzzing blood-suckers. Their vicious pinch left me with desperate itches and scattered red bumps the size of pennies. Nevertheless, I journeyed onwards.
Deeper into the island, only the cicada songs remained constant; the noise blanketed me. But wait, what is that thudding whir? A chopper flew steadily above me. The manmade contraption has imposed upon the cicadas’ carefree tune. Beyond the immediate and proximal melody of the cicadas, crickets and birds, the lawn mowers and speeding cars resonated from nearby Piver’s Island and Beaufort onto the uninhabited island. Man’s mechanics and machinery have contaminated Carrot’s Island.
Nature, however, is not so easily conquered. Cacti spikes and burs clung tightly to my pants and eagerly pricked my ankles. Mosquitoes swarmed and attacked any exposed skin while the rustling tall grass blades threatened to slice my arms and hands. A dragonfly thudded against me; I tripped over lengthy roots and stumbled over horse manure. Nature’s defense mechanisms propelled me to seek safety along the limited beach.
I left the open field of sand and cacti, damp and dense trees, burs and mosquitoes; I escaped the drumming cicadas, buzzing bees, diving dragonflies and madding mosquitoes and embraced the wet shore and teal water. My sneakers sunk into the moist sand as the sun warmed my damp skin. Behind me, a solitary horse neighed while the waves lapped the shoreline. Turning towards the commercial condos, man’s presence became all the more dominant and obvious. When did we become so artificial? The lawn mowers’ choking beat reverberated across the water; the sound of zooming cars diffused towards the isolated island. We seek luxury and comfort; consequently, we have forgotten about Mother Earth. A boat carrying a happily singing fisherman passed in the distance. Yes, we have become ignorant.
Is Carrot Island true nature? Plants, trees, sand, mosquitoes, cicadas, and ponies were abundant, but man’s presence, evident through the sounds of the chopper, lawn mowers, and cars, permeated and enveloped the tiny island. Man’s industrial and mechanic lifestyles have become unavoidable. The constant artificial noise produced by machinery and nearby civilization reminds us that structure and society has conquered the water and land. Perhaps, Carrot Island is too close to civilization; therefore, the land, though uninhabited, is inevitably influenced by man. But, are we inconsiderate imposters, manipulating Nature to fit our needs and desires? The juxtaposition between civilization and nature, man and wildlife resounded throughout the island. The small island, separated from society by water, is not so isolated and not so natural after all.
Article written by Lucy Ma.
