When my children are my age, even in the best case scenarios, they are unlikely to witness living polar bears or reef-building corals. Orangutans and African penguins will be extinct, and specialized bumblebees and green sea turtles will be unknown trivia of the past. There may be no short grass prairie, or tall grass prairie, or rain forest for that matter. If we humans remain until this time, if we’ve somehow managed to dodge our way out of the geopolitical and eco-material murder/suicide pact we’ve created for ourselves, all but the prosperous few will live through years of pure terror. These are the things I think about while I’m twisting wires between broken fence panels, standing in the loafing yard with muddy socks.