In the Stomach of a Damselfly

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INTRODUCTION Chris Staudinger What you are about to read in this zine are the musings and tales of nine young people who spent two nights in a remote lodge on the edge of the Manchac marshes. The place is called Turtle Cove Environmental Research Station. It’s giant old wooden camp that is only accessible by boat and is reportedly haunted by the spirit of the old businessman who secluded himself in the lodge and eventually died there. To my knowledge, we did not meet his spirit, but we did meet otters and other beings which you will soon meet in this zine. We spent three days and two nights canoeing and walking the long boardwalks that extend out of the property, wondering about the man who built the lodge, the people who cut down the cypress forest, and cats in space. We observed the marshes, the creatures in the mud beneath the marshes, the migrating birds, and piles of scat from the previous night’s visitors drying in the sun. As we wrote and drew, we took our cues from flow in nature: the patterns of balance, growth and decomposition, drought and floods that created what we saw around us, and we asked: what moves us? What are we moving towards? Where are we going? What do we want to make? With our work, we tried to bring back pieces of this place, keeping in mind that nature doesn’t care about what is “good” or “the best.” Nature makes and makes and makes and makes and makes and makes, and if something sticks, then great, and if it doesn’t, then who cares? The sun will come up blazing in the morning, and something else will sprout anew. Nature may seem gentle and perfect and careful, but it does so like a firehose: a single black willow tree, for example, can
spread hundreds of thousands of seeds in a single year down a flooding river, and it’s possible that when the water recedes, only one of those seeds will actually produce a sapling, or maybe none or nine or a few thousand. These pieces have given strength to the hull of the paper boat by forming its sixth layer of words and stories. The boat itself has moved and flowed and changed over time. The frame was originally built in 2015 by my dad and I as an object to hold stories from Hurricane Katrina and the ten years that had passed. It’s moved from my family and friends, through community, to its new home at New Harmony, a school dedicated to the ideas and practices of coastal restoration. In the process, the boat has become a place for all kinds of Louisiana water stories, from the 2016 floods to Kevin (the otter) Oscar Myers and alligators with laser beams shooting out of their eyes. After one final layer and some finishing work, the students from New Harmony, who have put a lot of love and work into the construction of this boat, will take it to their new school building on the banks of Bayou St. John, and hopefully you’ll see some of them paddling this boat through the water where it came from. Doesn’t Matter Kahi Augustin
Page 1 and 2: IN THE STOMACH OF A DAMSEL FLY (A B
Page 3: INDEX THE LADY IN WHITE PIE THE EVI
Page 7 and 8: AN UNKNOWN RIVER Unknown How can yo
Page 9 and 10: Wild Iris Elaina Carter
Page 11: THREE SHORTS Zoey Miller The Alliga
Page 14 and 15: GETTING READY FOR TURTLE COVE Kyren
Page 16 and 17: SHORT STORIES Elaina Carter Man and
Page 18: WINTER SKY Andrew Vandegrift Ear Ya
Page 21 and 22: Entry Four Hop Hop Hop, watch me gr
Page 23: LOUD TURTLE COVE GIRLS Elaina Carte

In the Stomach of a Damselfly

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