A pair of white storks on their nest at the Biebrza marshes in Poland serves as a backdrop for a profound reflection on wildlife abundance and loss. The scene, captured by photographer Bernard Bialorucki, is just one glimpse of the jaw-dropping bounty of this unique ecosystem.
A Day of Encounters
Visiting Biebrza National Park, one might question the wisdom of such a trip, but not for the reasons one might think. The sheer number of bird species encountered in a single day surpasses what many see in a year back home. A young elk, all awkward angles and improbable proportions, appears as a living monument to nature's creativity. Kneeling before a clump of lady's slipper orchid in ostentatious bloom among Solomon's seal and a carpet of lily of the valley is a humbling experience. The homely clatter of white storks, the constant soundtrack of cuckoos and golden orioles, and the sunset viewed from a wood-fired hot tub, listening to corncrakes as bats emerge and a beaver cruises past, all contribute to an unforgettable immersion.
Ecology in Action
Yet, a shift occurs when, from an observation tower, one witnesses three species of marsh tern hovering like precision-engineered angels, plucking insects from the water's surface. A white-tailed eagle hunts greylag geese before settling with its mate in a dead tree, watching a train of common cranes in the field below meeting a lone fox. The animals leap as if in mock surprise before going unconcernedly on their way. This is ecology writ large—a spectacular display of interaction and a devastating demonstration of what has been lost in Britain.
Among the exotic-seeming species, many familiar ones remind us that this landscape is close to what we once had before diversity and abundance were drained for productivity and profit. The Biebrza marshes are fed by the eponymous river, which loops its elaborate signature across the land, with meanders and oxbows cast off like old skins. The channel runs perpetually through impressions of its former self. These connections are obvious from a satellite image, but on the ground, they are hard to make sense of, making the river appear protean—its water somehow both swift and still, deep and shallow, dark and bright.
A Personal Revelation
Another evening, slipping into the river itself to swim the quarter mile from a cabin to dinner brings another revelation. The peaty bed makes the water look black from above, but it is perfectly clear. In it, thoughts clarify too: what had started to feel like a depressing comparison becomes a necessary recalibration. The Biebrza marshes are not just a place of wonder but a mirror reflecting what has been lost—and what might yet be regained.
