Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring
Chapter 1,A Fable for Tomorrow
There was once a town in the heart of America where
all life seemed to live in harmony with its surroundings,
The town lay in the midst of a checkerboard of
prosperous farms,with fields of grains and hillsides of
orchards where,in spring,white clouds of bloom drifted
above the green fields,In autumn,oak and maple and
birch set up a blaze of color that flamed and flickered
across a backdrop of pines,Then foxes barked in the
hills and deer silently crossed the fields,half hidden in
the mists of the fall mornings.
Along the roads,laurel,viburnum and alder,great ferns
and wildflowers delighted the traveler’s eye through
much of the year,Even in winter the roadsides were
places of beauty,where countless birds came to feed on
the berries and on the seed heads of the dried weeds
rising above the snow,The countryside was,in fact,
famous for the abundance and variety of its bird life,
and when the flood of migrants was pouring through in
spring and fall people travel from great distances to
observe them,Others came to fish the streams,which
flowed clear and cold out of the hills and contained
shady pools where trout lay,So it had been from the
days many years ago when the first settlers raised their
houses,sank their wells,and built their barns.
Then a strange blight crept over the area and
everything began to change,Some evil spell had
settled on the community,mysterious maladies had
swept the flocks of chickens; the cattle and sheep
sickened and died,Everywhere is a shadow of death,
The farmers spoke much of illness among their
families,In the town the doctors had become more
and more puzzled by new kinds of sickness appearing
among their patients,There had been several sudden
and unexplained death,not only among adults but
also among children,who would be stricken suddenly
while at play and die within a few hours.
There were a strange stillness,The birds,for
example—where had they gone? Many people spoke
of them,puzzled and disturbed,The feeding stations
in the backyards were deserted,The few birds seen
anywhere were moribund; they trembled violently
and could not fly,IT WAS A SPRING WITHOUT
VOICES,On the mornings that had once throbbed
with the dawn chorus of robins,catbirds,doves,jays,
wrens,and scores of other bird voices there was
now no sound; only silence lay over the fields and
woods and marsh.
On the farms the hens brooded,but no chicks
hatched,The farmers complained that they were
unable to raise any pigs—the litters were small and
the young survived only a few days,The apple trees
were coming into bloom but no bees droned among
the blossoms,so there was no pollination and there
would be no fruit.
The roadsides,once so attractive,were now lined
with browned and withered vegetation as though
swept by fire,These,too,were silent,deserted by all
living things,Even the streams were now lifeless,
Anglers no longer visited them,for the fish had died.
In the gutters under the eaves and between the
shingles of the roofs,a white granular powder still
showed a few patches; some weeks before it had
fallen like snow upon the roofs and the lawns,the field
and the streams.
No witchcraft,no enemy action had silenced the
rebirth of new life in this stricken world,THE PEOPLE
HAD DONE IT THEMSELVES.
…..
Chapter 1,A Fable for Tomorrow
There was once a town in the heart of America where
all life seemed to live in harmony with its surroundings,
The town lay in the midst of a checkerboard of
prosperous farms,with fields of grains and hillsides of
orchards where,in spring,white clouds of bloom drifted
above the green fields,In autumn,oak and maple and
birch set up a blaze of color that flamed and flickered
across a backdrop of pines,Then foxes barked in the
hills and deer silently crossed the fields,half hidden in
the mists of the fall mornings.
Along the roads,laurel,viburnum and alder,great ferns
and wildflowers delighted the traveler’s eye through
much of the year,Even in winter the roadsides were
places of beauty,where countless birds came to feed on
the berries and on the seed heads of the dried weeds
rising above the snow,The countryside was,in fact,
famous for the abundance and variety of its bird life,
and when the flood of migrants was pouring through in
spring and fall people travel from great distances to
observe them,Others came to fish the streams,which
flowed clear and cold out of the hills and contained
shady pools where trout lay,So it had been from the
days many years ago when the first settlers raised their
houses,sank their wells,and built their barns.
Then a strange blight crept over the area and
everything began to change,Some evil spell had
settled on the community,mysterious maladies had
swept the flocks of chickens; the cattle and sheep
sickened and died,Everywhere is a shadow of death,
The farmers spoke much of illness among their
families,In the town the doctors had become more
and more puzzled by new kinds of sickness appearing
among their patients,There had been several sudden
and unexplained death,not only among adults but
also among children,who would be stricken suddenly
while at play and die within a few hours.
There were a strange stillness,The birds,for
example—where had they gone? Many people spoke
of them,puzzled and disturbed,The feeding stations
in the backyards were deserted,The few birds seen
anywhere were moribund; they trembled violently
and could not fly,IT WAS A SPRING WITHOUT
VOICES,On the mornings that had once throbbed
with the dawn chorus of robins,catbirds,doves,jays,
wrens,and scores of other bird voices there was
now no sound; only silence lay over the fields and
woods and marsh.
On the farms the hens brooded,but no chicks
hatched,The farmers complained that they were
unable to raise any pigs—the litters were small and
the young survived only a few days,The apple trees
were coming into bloom but no bees droned among
the blossoms,so there was no pollination and there
would be no fruit.
The roadsides,once so attractive,were now lined
with browned and withered vegetation as though
swept by fire,These,too,were silent,deserted by all
living things,Even the streams were now lifeless,
Anglers no longer visited them,for the fish had died.
In the gutters under the eaves and between the
shingles of the roofs,a white granular powder still
showed a few patches; some weeks before it had
fallen like snow upon the roofs and the lawns,the field
and the streams.
No witchcraft,no enemy action had silenced the
rebirth of new life in this stricken world,THE PEOPLE
HAD DONE IT THEMSELVES.
…..
