As part of the transit landscape to the south of the Island, a sea of sinister forests extends, reminding us of an erroneous history of introduction on a daily basis. Large pools of water bathe the base of the Fuegian mountains.
The course of these waters was interrupted by dikes: trunks, branches and leaves of lenga, felled and accumulated by beavers with the aim of adapting a foreign ecosystem in their home. The delicate lenga forests do not survive the felling of their trunks and the flooding of their roots. Logs stripped of life are a vestige of these forests, which today are reflected next to the foothills mountains in stagnant water.
This is how we see a pitiful situation of intervention, with mixed feelings we can admire an attractive and particular aesthetic in the landscape, but on the other hand it makes us shudder to learn its origin that although it has been a fateful mistake, this is part of the learning of the intercultural processes.
Georeading
Rocks are the skeletons of the Earth, the structure that sustains mountains and holds oceans and lakes. The soil and vegetation cover is its skin, a lively layer that breathes with the atmosphere, while the trees are the hair that traps and slows down the wind, propagating its vibration to the earth and rocks. When humans intervene and remove the forests, Earth becomes naked and unprotected to the elements, losing its resilience and beauty.
When the beaver flood valleys they rotten the soil, turf, and roots, to protect themselves from a non-existent predator.
The beaver is a foreigner and so are the men who burned woods to introduce sheep. The thousands of years needed to recover from this damage are just an instant for the billion-year-old Earth, the only harmed ones are ourselves.