When Forests Fall, Where Do the Dryads Go?
What happens to Selkies when the waters choke with pollution?
In folklore, mythical beings are inextricably linked to the landscapes they inhabit. Dryads are bound to trees. Selkies to the sea. Dragons to mountain peaks and deep wilderness. These spirits are not merely residents of nature—they are nature, personified.
But what happens when the ancient trees fall, and the last echo of birdsong fades? When the coasts choke on plastic and oil, and the mountains are carved hollow for greed?
What happens to the spirits then?
Where do they go when the magic runs out?
What happens when the spirit’s home disappears?
Mythical Beings and Their Ecological Roots
Dryads & Forests: Each tree, especially oaks, was once thought to hold a dryad. The death of the tree meant the death of the spirit. When a tree falls now, no one listens for the cry. But somewhere, a dryad vanishes into mist. Deforestation isn’t just loss of canopy—it’s the silencing of an ancient song.
Selkies & Coastal Ecosystems: Selkies rely on the health of the sea. In stories, they shed their sealskins and walk among us, vulnerable. Today, with warming waters, overfishing, and oil spills, if a selkie shed her sealskin today, would she find the sea waiting—or poisoned and still? Would she even dare return, or live forever stranded in a world that no longer remembers how to dream?
Dragons & Remote Wilderness: Often seen as guardians of untamed lands, dragons represent what is ancient, powerful, and largely beyond human control. As we pave the wilds and flatten the peaks, the dragons slip away—curling into mist, into myth, into memory. Not slain, but starved of mystery.
Myth as Mirror: What These Creatures Tell Us About Ourselves
Personifying Loss: It’s easier to grieve a dryad than a tree. Easier to rage at a vanished selkie than a dying reef. Myth gives us language for our collective sorrow and helps us emotionally process what statistics cannot.
The Displacement of Magic: As habitats vanish, so too does a sense of wonder. These creatures represent our awe, our reverence, our relationship with the unseen. When they go, our internal sense of magic dims.
The New Shape of Myth: Urban fantasy often places these spirits in exile—dryads in city parks, dragons sleeping beneath highways or in forgotten arms of subterranean tunnels, selkies hiding in polluted harbors. Even our stories show them displaced, searching for refuge. These are refugee myths for an ecologically unstable world.
Across cultures, mythical beings emerge from nature’s most sacred places. They are protectors, tricksters, mourners, and guides. When we lose the lands they guard, we lose not just biodiversity but also the stories about that place that have rooted humanity for generations.
The Aziza — Forest Spirits of West Africa
The Aziza are small, luminous beings said to dwell in the forests of the Dahomey people. They offer wisdom, herbal knowledge, and protection to those who respect the forest. But what happens when the forest is stripped for logging or firewood? Where do the Aziza go—and who receives their teachings now?
The Yacuruna — Amazon River Guardians
These water spirits are shape-shifters who live beneath the rivers in elaborate underwater cities. Known among various Amazonian Indigenous groups, the Yacuruna maintain the balance of river life. As the Amazon is dammed, poisoned by mercury from mining, and depleted by droughts, the Yacuruna are silenced. Or perhaps they are angry.
The Bunyip — Australian Waterhole Watcher
This fearsome creature of Aboriginal lore guards swamps, billabongs, and waterholes. It serves as both a warning and a protector—respect the water or face the consequences. With the increase in drought and water diversions across Australia, many such sacred sites have dried up. The Bunyip becomes a ghost. When the Bunyip is no longer feared, what happens to the water it once guarded?
The Domovoi — Slavic House and Hearth Spirits
Though more domestic than wild, the Domovoi are tightly linked to place and tradition. Traditionally, a Domovoi protected the family and the land it lived on. But they are said to leave when a household is disrespected or the land is dishonored. In stories, their silence is a warning. As villages empty and ancestral homes are bulldozed, how many Domovoi are left without hearth or kin? What happens to them then?
The Nāga — Serpent Spirits of South and Southeast Asia
Nāga are sacred serpent-beings tied to water sources, fertility, and protection. Many myths place them in rivers, lakes, and underground springs. When these waters are polluted or paved over, the Nāga become displaced. Some tales say they curse those who destroy their waters.
A Call to Enchantment and Protection
Rewilding the Spirit World: Conservation should also be a story. What if every forest had a name, every river a guardian, every reef a voice in the form of legend? Would we listen then? Would that change how we fight for it?
The Role of the Storyteller: Writers, artists, and dreamers are in a unique position. By keeping these beings alive in our work, we remind those who take in our work what is at stake, providing an emotional lens to truly understand ecological loss.
Modern Mythic Activism: Projects like eco-poetry, rewilding literature, fantasy-infused permaculture, or speculative fiction rooted in restoration all serve a purpose: they re-enchant the world. They say: There is still time. The spirits are watching.
Closing Thought
If the dryads wither and selkies sink beneath oil-slicked tides…
If the last dragon curls around a tourist’s selfie stick and vanishes into shadow…
What will we have lost?
Not just the land. Not just the water.
But the breath of story. The pulse of awe.
The soul that once sang through all wild things.
#Fantasy #mythicalecology #AnEnchantedLife #mythicalcreatures
This is a lovely call to action! I just finished a short story that touches on this theme, set in a unicorn sanctuary. It's definitely something I want to keep writing about.
Interesting that there are now more trees in Missouri than before the pioneers and settlers came. Also more deer. So, these new dryads - are they a more resilient type? There are now new tales, new myths waiting to be told?