This photo of a mangrove swamp was part of a photoessay in the
Washington Post, which focused on the lives of the children who harvest the cockles in the mangroves.
Ecuador is home to the tallest mangroves in the world: The Cayapas
Mataje Reserve. Its soil is filled with small black cockles — a culinary
delicacy prized in Ecuador — and the arduous task of searching for and
picking those shelled creatures from the mangroves falls on the
shoulders of children, who use their long limbs and agile bodies to
scale the spindly branches of the trees and mine the thick mud that
surrounds them.
My thoughts drifted to vague memories of reports of warfare conducted in such ecosystems and the pure hell that soldiers in combat must have endured. I had thought I remembered battles in mangrove swamps in the U.S. Civil War, but for the moment the only reference I can find is to the
Battle of Ramree Island in the South Pacific:
"That night [of the 19 February 1945] was the most horrible that any
member of the M.L. [motor launch] crews ever experienced. The scattered
rifle shots in the pitch black swamp punctured by the screams of wounded
men crushed in the jaws of huge reptiles, and the blurred worrying
sound of spinning crocodiles made a cacophony of hell that has rarely
been duplicated on earth. At dawn the vultures arrived to clean up what
the crocodiles had left. . . . Of about one thousand Japanese soldiers
that entered the swamps of Ramree, only about twenty were found alive.
Some years ago I tried to hike through a tamarack swamp in northern Minnesota; the footing was treacherous and unpleasant, but presumably a log power easier than this mangrove tangle. The other images in the
photoessay give some insight into a life different from the ones you and I live.