How Can We Keep From Singing and Saying Thanks

Early morning in Guyana during a parrot count

The last month of our parrot conservation work in Guyana and Suriname had long days of counting parrots and listening to the wisdom of Indigenous peoples. Most of the time while working we were too hot, too cold, too sweaty, too thirsty, too hungry, and too bug bit, and often we were also these two other things at once – sad and joyful.  Though parrot populations are at risk, we had each other to make right what we could in our world. And the parrots taught us that beauty never dies. If something is remembered, then it lives on within the world of our imagination and could once again become manifest.  

Early morning count on the Ireng River (between Guyana and Brazil)

where we all got wet and cold

This reminds me of one of my favorite passages of all times, in a darkly disturbing, yet beautiful book, "The Road," by Cormac McCarthy. In the story there has been an ecological collapse and the author muses about trout as I do about parrots:

Standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. ... On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.

Conservationists aim to put the parrots back ("reparrotations") and make the world right again, such as when once we could hear and see the skies fill with multiple species of parrots.  One conservationist told me in Suriname that she loves wild parrots because they tell her that she belongs and is not alone. Their chattering sociability and intelligence in the trees and their calls high in the clean blue air, as per Mary Oliver, welcome us into the family of things. Perhaps this is why some communities raise the herald of parrot conservation, for their souls have lost a little bit of joy with the silence of the skies. They know that something is amiss, as do all of us who read of and experience decreasing biodiversity. 

Parrot rangers coming in from camping on the river

One Indigenous leader in Guyana spoke before his community as we celebrated the end of the National Sun Parakeet count and said, “If you don’t love yourself and you don’t love your environment, who then will love you?” I wonder though how can we be loved when parrots, the earth, and our own lives are diminishing?  But the memory and the witnessing of an entire universe, such as the dappled trout in the stream or the hundreds of macaws heading home, exist in us and always. If once parrots existed beyond imagination, we witness to this reality. We create beauty by remembering it. So, remember my peeps, give thanks when you can, and let us sing. Beauty never dies.

...with the animals dying around us

taking our feelings we are saying thank you

with the forests falling faster than the minutes

of our lives we are saying thank you

with the words going out like cells of a brain

with the cities growing over us

we are saying thank you faster and faster

with nobody listening we are saying thank you

thank you we are saying and waving

dark though it is. - W.S. Merwin

One of our many hammock breaks during the count 

The refuge of the swinging hammock after a long day in these parts of the world is a gift beyond imagination.  One looks up and sees the milky way and the moons, planets, and stars journey across the sky as the night turns, seeing the immensity of beauty even amongst such loss. How can I keep from singing, swaying, and saying thanks as I rest in the beauty of the world?

A huge thanks to everyone who followed us during the Guyana National Sun Parakeet Count in November 2025 and for giving us your company, hopes, dreams, and gifts.