When Fear Saves the Day: Lessons from Guam’s Silent Skies

By Parambrahma Tripathy

Once upon a time, on the emerald island of Guam, birds sang like they owned the skies. A US territory in the western Pacific, Guam was a paradise—lush, green, and predator-free. Then World War II happened, and with it came an uninvited guest: the brown tree snake, hitching a ride on military cargo. One snake turned into thousands, and those beautiful birds? They didn’t stand a chance. Ten out of twelve native species vanished, wiped out by a slithering menace they never saw coming. Why? They lacked the instinct to fear. No defense, no fight—just easy pickings. It’s a gut-punch of a story, but it’s more than an ecological tragedy. It’s a wake-up call for us humans, a lesson in why threat perception isn’t just a buzzword—it’s a lifeline.

Guam’s birds didn’t know fear, and it cost them everything. Now, let’s flip the script: what if they’d had that gut feeling, that little voice saying, “Hey, that snake looks shady”? Maybe they’d still be singing today. Fear isn’t the villain we make it out to be—it’s a survival instinct, hardwired into us since the days we were dodging saber-toothed cats. It’s the rustle in the bushes that made our ancestors grab a spear, the whiff of smoke that screamed “run!” Fear kept us alive, and it still does. So why do we treat it like a dirty secret?

Instinct to pause, to question? It’s gold!

Think about a kid scared of a barking dog at the village fair. Parents might sigh, “Oh, he’s just being silly.” But is he? That fear isn’t nonsense—it’s primal, a whisper from his caveman brain saying, “Sharp teeth, danger!” Over time, he might learn the dog is harmless, maybe even pet it at the next fair. But that instinct to pause, to question? It’s gold. It’s what keeps him from running into real danger, like chasing a stray into traffic. Instead of brushing off his fear, what if we taught him to listen to it, to understand it? That’s how you build a kid who’s cautious but brave, not reckless or paralyzed.

Adults aren’t much different—we just hide it better. Ever felt that knot in your stomach before a big move, like shifting to Bhubaneswar for a new job? That’s fear, waving a red flag: “Hey, this is big, let’s think it through!” Ignore it, and you might rush in unprepared—maybe you’ll miss a better gig or forget to budget for the city’s crazy rents. But listen to it, and you’ll plan better: scout the job market, save a little extra, maybe even find a roommate. Fear isn’t here to stop you; it’s here to make you smarter. It’s a compass, not a cage.

Now, let’s zoom out. Threat perception isn’t just personal—it’s collective. Take the monsoons in Odisha. Every year, we know the floods are coming, but how many of us prepare? Recognizing the threat—rising waters, ruined crops—pushes us to act: stock up on food, build better drainage, or join the village committee to plan evacuations. On a bigger scale, it’s why we care about climate change or economic dips. Spot the danger, and you can fight it. Ignore it, and you’re Guam’s birds—singing until the snakes show up.

Fear’s not the enemy

The flip side? Fear can’t run the show. Let it paralyze you, and you’re stuck—no growth, no progress. That’s where the magic lies: turning fear into action. Back in my village, I knew a guy terrified of starting a small kirana shop. “What if it fails?” he’d moan. But that fear made him meticulous—he studied the market, saved every paisa, started small with just rice and dal. Today, his shop is the go-to spot for half the village. Fear didn’t stop him; it fueled him. It’s like using a chili in your curry—too much, and you’re crying; just right, and it’s a flavor bomb.

Guam’s silent skies teach us a hard truth: without threat perception, you’re a sitting duck. But with it, you’re a survivor. Teach your kids to hear that inner alarm, whether it’s a creepy stranger at the mela or a tricky math exam. Teach yourself to face the what-ifs—job loss, health scares, or that tough family talk you’ve been dodging. Fear isn’t weakness; it’s wisdom in disguise. It’s what kept our ancestors alive, and it’s what drives us to innovate, to protect, to grow.

So, the next time fear knocks—whether it’s your kid clinging to you at the doctor’s or your own heart racing before a big decision—don’t shove it away. Listen. What’s it telling you? Use it to plan, to prepare, to push forward. Fear’s not the enemy; it’s the friend who says, “I’ve got your back.” Embrace it, and you’ll not only survive—you’ll thrive. Just ask what Guam’s birds would’ve given for a little fear. A second chance to sing.

Parambrahma Tripathy is an author and Communication for Development professional with over 18 years of experience. He has worked with organizations like BBC Media Action, Landesa, The Energy Policy Institute at the University of Chicago, IPE Global, and Coceptual Media. He has been recognized with several awards, including the prestigious Laadli Media and Gender Sensitivity Award in 2022 and 2023, Best Lyricist of the Year in 2022, Dr. Radhanath Rath Fellowship for Journalism, Kalinga Literary Youth Award, Timepass Bestseller Award, Srujan India Youth Award, Utkal Sahitya Samaj Felicitation and Odia Yuva Stambha Samman(2023)

(DISCLAIMER: This is an opinion piece. The views expressed are the author’s own and have nothing to do with OTV’s charter or views. OTV does not assume any responsibility or liability for the same.)