While I was visiting my family for Thanksgiving, I came across a great article discussing some of the ideas in Robert Macfarlane’s book Landmarks (affiliate link), which I can’t wait to read. One of the main ideas was that the more intimately familiar we become with nature, through preserving the language and vocabulary of the natural world, the more inclined and better prepared we are to protect it. This ideological conservation is as important as physical conservation because as Wendell Berry so succinctly put it:
“People exploit what they have merely concluded to be of value, but they defend what they love, and to defend what we love we need a particularising language, for we love what we particularly know.”
My mother told me a story about walking into her office building with a friend. As they turned a bend in the pathway, they saw one of the lawns filled with a massive herd of deer running and bounding like they were in a wildlife documentary. My mother stopped short and gasped, having never seen so many deer in one place at a time. While my mother stood marveling at them, her friend barely paused and said, “Yeah, that’s a lot,” then continued their conversation. When she realized my mother was no longer with her, she turned back and said, “Do you still stop and look at deer? Don’t you see deer all the time?” My mother says she decided in that moment that of all the minutes you get in a day, week, month, year (I know that one off the top of my head, thank you Rent), she could take a minute to stare at deer. If she wanted, she could take several, when faced with something so staggeringly beautiful.
I had been in a big rush to transport paintings and lumber for my studio improvement project, but looking at the weather forecast we realized our intended day would be ideal conditions for visiting the Edwin B. Forsythe National Wildlife Refuge near Atlantic City instead. I had only been once before when I was about 10, while my father was taking a class on birds as an elective for his physical therapy degree and wanted to share the experience with us. Touring the trails through the wetlands spotting ducks and shorebirds – and a nesting pair of peregrine falcons!!! – has been one of my most treasured childhood memories, and it seemed like the perfect way to spend the Saturday after Thanksgiving.
We all had other things planned, but decided to push them back for the sake of taking a minute in nature together. We brought Otto and Smooch and had an unbelievably pleasant afternoon. My father identified dozens of species of birds, and we took our time observing them and just being in this remarkably well-preserved natural habitat. I learned so much about bird behaviors that I didn’t know before, and I’m not sure I’ll ever stop laughing at the image of dabbling pintail ducks with their butts in the air.
Standing on the edge of the marshes or looking over the meandering patterns in the grass left from rising and falling tides, I felt so deeply connected with the rhythms and special order of this ecosystem, and in turn, more centered and alive in the universe. These clumps of soggy reed and clusters of paddling birds became so precious and significant to me just by spending time with them, which led to a soul-level need to love and protect them. I completely understood how essential this joy and adoration of nature is to drive conservation and how important it is to experience firsthand on a personal level.
I enjoy living in the city, but I often feel sadly disengaged with the natural world. I realize that the more time I spend inside and focused on day-to-day responsibilities, the more I risk losing the wildness and life inside of me. I have always embraced my parents’ philosophy of taking the minute to experience wonder and enjoy nature (I have a whole blog of sky-gazing), but I know in my heart that I need to be out in the wild much more frequently, to spend whole days when I can.
I mean, why else are we here?
More photos from our wetlands day are here on Flickr – Edwin B. Forsythe National Wildlife Refuge