As we savour that first bite of a pumpkin pie, let's take a moment to appreciate the hidden world of nocturnal pollination and the natural dance happening around us; one that makes every autumn harvest a true collaboration between earth and sky. These underappreciated nighttime pollinators, like moths and bats, quietly do their work under the cover of darkness. These unsung heroes flutter and swoop through the twilight, pollinating gourds like my birdhouse gourd flowers, which bloom under the stars, revealing their beauty in sync with the rhythm of day turning into night.
This isn’t just another article about climate change. You’ve heard the warnings, seen the headlines and maybe even felt the weight of anxiety that comes with the slow creep of rising temperatures and shifting weather patterns. But today, we're talking about something even more fundamental — the fabric of life itself is unravelling and the stakes are too high to ignore.
“I am Earth, the cradle of life, the guardian of endless diversity, and the silent witness to the birth and death of countless species. But now, as you walk upon my skin, tread lightly, for I am weary. This is my story, and it is also yours."
The web of life that sustains you is unravelling.
Every species that vanishes is a thread pulled from the intricate fabric that holds everything together. The bees that once danced from flower to flower, ensuring your fields were full of grain, are now dying. The frogs that sang in the night, keeping the balance in your wetlands, are now silent. The wolves that ran wild and free, keeping the herds strong, are hunted and driven from their lands.
These are not just losses; they are warnings.
But here’s the hope: you can make a difference. Every action, no matter how small, can help restore balance.
(Susan Lueck/Flickr)
Dawn Lalonde: A story of resilience and hope amidst the loss of more than a million bees
As an ecological advocate and beekeeper, Dawn Lalonde has spent years nurturing her small-scale beekeeping operation, nestled in the rural-urban interface of Northern Ontario. Her bees, essential to both her livelihood and the surrounding ecosystem, were at the heart of her passion. Free from the pressures of large-scale agriculture, she believed her bee colonies were protected from the usual threats of pesticide exposure.
But her hope was tragically shattered when she arrived at her bee yard in Lively, Ontario, on a quiet June day, only to find over 1.2 million bees dead outside their hives.
Dawn, like many beekeepers, took pride in her honey’s unique flavour, a reflection of northern Ontario's diverse woodlands and natural forage. But that pride turned into heartache as she faced the devastating reality: An acute chemical kill, likely caused by pesticide drift from nearby residential areas. What had seemed like a safe haven for her bees, surrounded by homes that participated in initiatives like No Mow May and embraced pollinator gardens, had become a deadly environment.
In the weeks that followed, the nightmare only deepened. Not only had her Lively bee yard suffered catastrophic losses, but her second yard soon began showing signs of distress as well. Dawn’s bees were no longer foraging actively. Instead, they were dying en masse_struggling to fly, trembling with their tongues sticking out, victims of chemical exposure that had infiltrated the environment.
(Dawn Lalonde, beekeeper-apiarist Mikkola Family Farm & Apiary)
But Dawn’s story doesn’t end with despair.
Her response was swift and determined. She contacted the Ontario Ministry of Agriculture, Food, and Rural Affairs (OMAFRA) to begin the investigation process. With the support of a community that rallied behind her through a fundraising campaign, she was able to send more than 20 samples for testing to the University of Guelph's agriculture and food lab.
The results were alarming, and as Dawn worked closely with experts and government agencies, her focus shifted from grief to action.
She saw firsthand how chemical drift from residential areas where homeowners unknowingly sprayed pesticides and insecticides, which were just as dangerous, if not more so, than agricultural chemicals. Her bees, which she describes as "environmental sponges," were picking up these toxins from up to eight kilometres away, a sobering reminder of the far-reaching consequences of chemical use.
Now, as the province investigates the causes of these deaths, Dawn is using her platform to raise awareness about the dangers of lawn chemicals and mosquito sprays, urging homeowners to rethink their practices. Her message is clear: If we want to protect pollinators, we must start in our own backyards.
Dawn’s resilience in the face of such overwhelming loss is a testament to her dedication as both a beekeeper and an environmental steward. Though her bees are gone, her mission to protect pollinators is stronger than ever. And while she estimates her financial loss to be over $50,000, her drive to rebuild her operation and educate others offers hope that change is possible.
In Dawn’s own words:
“Seeing as the Ministry is doing an investigation, I cannot confirm one way or another, nor will I point fingers at this time. I am willing to say that, unlike my beekeeping colleague Dr. Janice Mitchell located on Manitoulin Island, glyphosate was not found in the analytical data. There was a variety of fungicides as well as pesticides, which fall under the pyrethrin classification.
“I am down, but not out. I will relocate and rebuild my operation. I just keep finding myself questioning: Where is it safe?”
Dawn’s story is a powerful reminder that the choices we make in our own yards and communities have far-reaching consequences. If we are to protect the ecosystems we rely on, we must act now; before it’s too late.
So now let’s take a moment to eavesdrop on some amusing, yet too-close-to-home conversations between a few of the animal kingdom’s unlikeliest philosophers.
Two ostriches discussing the sixth extinction:
(Monika Rekola illustration)
A neighbourly chat between Hugo and Gertrude: A Conversation on the Sixth Extinction
(Illustration by Monika and Rita Rekola)
Hugo: “You know, Gertrude, the more I dig into this Sixth Extinction stuff, the more it feels like we're standing on a cliff, watching species drop off one by one. Remember when we were kids? Monarchs were everywhere, and those woolly bear caterpillars—man, they used to blanket the sidewalks in the fall. Now? It’s like they’ve vanished.”
Gertrude: [nodding thoughtfully] “Oh, I remember it well, Hugo. Monarchs, other butterflies, frogs. Those spring peepers used to practically shout at us every year by the pond. The air was full of life. Now the chirping has faded. The whole season used to feel like a concert, and now it’s like the show’s over before it even starts. It’s unsettling.”
Hugo: “It gets worse. I read that even robins_our everyday, backyard robins_are on the decline in our area. Can you believe that? This site has them listed as a species in trouble. Robins! I always thought they were invincible, just hopping around like little sentinels.”
Gertrude: [sighing] “Exactly, Hugo! It’s so easy to think robins will always be there, just like the monarchs were. But each loss is like a thread unravelling from a tapestry. And when enough threads go, the whole thing collapses. It’s not just about losing a species—it’s about losing the balance. Everyone’s worried about honeybees and rightly so, but it’s not just them. The native bees, bats, insects, birds, and even hummingbirds are all part of this delicate web. If one falls, the whole chain starts to collapse. We depend on these pollinators.”
Hugo: “Right, but too many people are stuck in the ‘here and now.’ They’re not thinking about the future. I mean, how do you look at a monarch butterfly and not feel some responsibility to protect it?
Albert Schweitzer had it right_reverence for life. Every living thing has value just by existing. We don’t have the right to let them slip into extinction. These creatures are part of something bigger than us.”
Gertrude: [nodding knowingly] “Exactly, Hugo. But it’s more than just individual responsibility. There are powerful forces at work: Wealthy chemical companies, big pharma, and a few others who shall remain nameless, but you know exactly who I’m talking about. They’re feeding the problem, promoting poisons and quick fixes that degrade the environment. It’s chemical overload out there! Every product sold with a smiling label promising a better lawn or pest-free garden is just another blow to the natural world. And who’s paying for it? The monarchs, the bees, the robins—species that have no voice.”
Hugo: [pausing, deep in thought] “You’re so right, Gertrude. They market solutions that benefit them, but at what cost? The poisons they push might make your lawn look pristine today, but they’re killing the very systems we depend on—pollinators, birds, even the microorganisms in the soil. It’s all connected.”
Gertrude: [softly, with a smile] “And it’s not just philosophy, Hugo. It’s personal. Look at today: September 21, 2024. I still see clusters of goldfinches, woodpeckers drumming away, chickadees bouncing around and even more hummingbirds this year. These creatures give me hope, every single day. I look out at my garden, my little Garden of Eden, and I’m proud of the habitat I’ve created. But there’s urgency too. I’m not just doing this for me; I’m doing it for the future.”
Hugo: “Your garden is living proof, Gertrude. When we create space for nature, it thrives. Imagine if everyone did that. If we all planted native species, supported sustainable farms, and let parts of our yards go wild. We could slow down this extinction.”
Gertrude: [with conviction] “We can’t afford to wait anymore. The time for action is now. People think: ‘What can one person do?’ But that’s how change begins; one person planting native flowers, creating a pollinator sanctuary. Supporting sustainable farms to cut down on the poisons we dump into the soil. We’ve got to stop with the pyrethrins, the mosquito sprays and toxic lawn chemicals. It’s chemical overload out there, Hugo. And every bit of waste we reduce keeps plastic from choking marine life. But it’s not just about us, it’s about getting others on board. The more people who understand, the louder our voice for change becomes.”
Hugo: “You’re right, Gertrude. And that’s why we need to take this a step further. Imagine if every yard in our neighbourhood had signage, educating people as they walk by. Little signs explaining why you’ve planted native species, or what role that pollinator garden plays. If people see it, read it, and understand the impact, they might be inspired to do the same in their own yards.”
Gertrude: “Yes! We can’t just assume people know what’s going on. Not everyone realizes that by planting native plants or creating wildlife corridors, they’re helping restore ecosystems. Clear, simple signage: Things like, ‘This garden supports native bees and butterflies,’ or ‘No pesticides used here: Safe zone for pollinators’—can educate passersby. It’s an invitation for them to join the movement. And think about adding QR codes linked to more information or tips on how they can start.”
Gertrude: "Yes! And it doesn’t have to stop at our yards. Imagine signs in parks, along trails, or at schools, teaching people about how all things interconnect. Birds, bees, insects and even fungi work together to create healthy ecosystems. We could even partner with local schools or community centres to create workshops on native planting, habitat building, or birdhouse construction. The signs are the spark, but the community engagement is what lights the fire for real change."
The Earth speaks: “Remember, you are not separate from me; you are part of the web of life. What happens to the bees, the frogs and the wolves, happens to you. You are the stewards of this world, and it is within your power to either bring about its ruin or ensure its renewal.
"So, tread lightly, my children, but with purpose. Plant a tree, tend your garden, support your local farmers, and protect the creatures that call this planet home. For in your hands lies the power to change the story of the sixth extinction_a story that can end in hope, healing and a world renewed.”
(Rainorshinemamma.com)
Monika Rekola is a certified landscape designer and horticulturist, passionate about gardening and sustainable living. As a budding homesteader and garden writer, she shares her love for recycling, repurposing and birdwatching. Monika is dedicated to ecological gardening, aiming to balance our delicate ecosystem. Contact her at [email protected].
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