Invest in the Millennium. Plant sequoias.

With the fieldtrips we’ve been on, discussions we’ve had, and reading we’ve done this semester, I’ve definitely been given a more in-depth sense of where I fit into the greater scheme of the natural world. On one of the first days of class we were presented with a list of questions asking about ourselves. One of those questions was “What prompted you to enroll in this course?” I answered, “Because it was a cluster with another environmental studies class.” Looking back on that, I’m really glad I decided to take this class somewhat by a fluke, because I have learned an incredible amount of useful and interesting things which have impacted the way I live.

One selection that really caught my interest was Wendell Berry’s “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front”. Berry was correct in saying that people “want more of everything ready made,” and lines like that forced me to compare my attitudes and habits to the ones that are apparently the norm of our society, however, I found most of the poem inspirational. “Love the world. Work for nothing,” he wrote. I took Berry’s advice to do something that “won’t compute” to heart. It’s an amazing piece of writing and it’s one of my favorites. It is true that Wendell Berry is the antonym of Wal-Mart and there’s something to be said for that in this world of consumption and capitalism.

Another selection that compliments Berry’s writing quite well is Alan During's “The Dubious Rewards of Consumption.” During writes, “With consumption standards perpetually rising, society is literally insatiable.” Since my mom is already a huge proponent of “But Nothing Day,” I wasn’t planning on participating in Black Friday, however when I read this piece the Tuesday before November 26th, I was literally angry with the thought of millions of people waking up at 2 am to wait in lines to buy useless things that will fill our landfills five years from now. As the people of our world make an abrupt transition from producers to ravenous consumers, stories like Barbra Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle inspire a sense of sustainability that the last few generations haven’t been accustomed to. The idea sounds outlandish, but for since the beginning of time people have been living like the Kingsolvers…until now. The thought of this transition makes me dread the future of humankind, but Kingsolver’s account gave me some hope.

Finally, The respected John Burroughs taught me that “the science of anything may be taught or acquired by study; the art of it comes by practice or inspiration.” Our Place in Nature has pushed and inspired me to seek out the beauty and magic in nature. And with that, comes inspiration. He also comments that “to know is not all; it is only half. The other half is to love.” The things we’ve discussed have given me a newfound appreciation and connection to the nature around my home, Michigan. Going to the Kalamazoo Nature Center and the Farmer’s Market, I was reminded of the gems here in my community. But, more than anything, the texts we have read and the discussions we’ve had have forced me to seriously think about what I’m doing to and on this earth. However, now I know, and that knowledge and respect for the environment will definitely have an impact on the actions I take while living on this planet.

Walden Pond Revisited

 I haven’t really reflected much upon Henry David Thoreau since the beginning of the semester. But recently flipping through my American Earth book, it’s difficult to miss the selections he contributed. Unlike some of my cohorts, I didn’t hate Thoreau, I didn’t love him, but he wasn’t the worst. Writing style aside, I agreed with Thoreau on a lot of important points. One example of this is the idea that learning through experience is much more valuable than reading a book about a subject. You could read an entire book on living in the woods, but if you’d never actually been there, you might find that you’d be completely lost. On that note, Thoreau also brings up the important point that, because of our culture and society, humans are losing our innate ability to do things, make things, and survive. When I try to conjure up some kind of skill-set for myself, all I can come up with is knitting, riding a bike and making grilled cheese sandwiches. A hundred years ago what would a girl in my place be doing? Thinking about my lack of survival ability makes me feel like an individually packaged little bag of Doritos: over-processed and cheesy with an absence of nutritional value.

I hate what Thoreau says about our society because it’s so true. “If rail roads are not built, how shall we get to heaven in season,” he notes. Why does our society stress “progression” so much? We certainly can’t truly take in what the natural world has to offer when it appears that all people care about is the newest Apple product. However crazy Thoreau may have been, his thoughts and ideas are something we should all take note of. Acknowledging his warnings would remind our society that maybe we are born into this earth with everything we’ll ever need. And maybe that doesn’t include cell phones and laptops. 

Who needs it?

When Bill McKibben described Edward Abbey as “a master of anarchy and irreverence and one of the funniest writers America has produced since Mark Twain,” I was intrigued, but skeptical (Mark Twain, really?!?). But I actually did enjoy “Polemic: Industrial Tourism and the National Parks” an exert from Desert Solitaire, quite a bit. Even better, it was funny while being about the environment, truly a noble subject.

Polemic, by definition, means a controversial argument or someone who argues in opposition to another. In this way, even before reading the piece, the title suggests to me a war of some proportion. Industrial Tourism Versus the National Parks? Essentially this was, and is still, the case. In Edward Abbey’s situation, the problem was that his comfortable way of life and the land he loves was being invaded by the future, big business and industrial tourism. I’m both interested and embarrassed by the idea of industrial tourism. Abbey presents this type of tourism as a kind of enemy, but I sincerely love seeing the world through a car window. It’s just something that’s always been enjoyable for me- by riding in the car and looking out the window you can see so much. Upon reflection though, I guess this is just a surface experience, it’s seeing without actually gaining anything or really taking anything in.

I wouldn’t necessarily describe myself as an industrial tourist (no, I don’t vacation in a “camper-truck of Fiberglas and molded plastic”) but I’m certainly no Edward Abbey. That being said, I can definitely see Abbey’s argument that society is tied to cars. Though I can’t help but enjoy long car rides, maybe I’ll put off getting a car for a little longer.

“The real and proper question is: why is it beautiful?”

-Annie Dillard Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

During Bill Davis’ lecture last Thursday I was reminded how beautiful the work of Ansel Adams is. In this day and age, most people exclusively use digital photography. And though digital is convenient and accessible to nearly everyone, the depth and image quality will never be as special as original black and white photography. I feel like so much can be captured in a black and white image. The contrast between the darks and lights and all the shades in between give his images an intense profoundness that a digital camera, no matter how high resolution is it, can’t recreate.

To me these images are so beautiful to me because of the grandness they represent. When you see an overwhelming scene in nature you know you can never fully relay what you’re seeing to someone else; not in pictures and not in words. However, Adams’ photographs can capture a lot. He somehow relays so much emotion and beauty in his images. We’ll never know exactly what he saw, but his work can almost bring us there.

I've never seen so many electric jellyfish in all my life!

To be completely honest, I had no idea who Jacques Cousteau was until I saw the movie The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. But The Life Aquatic became my favorite movie the first time I saw it, so when I learned that it was actually loosely based on/had some parallels to an actual person I was literally overwhelmingly excited. And if I’m still being completely honest, one of my initial main attractions to Cousteau was his red cap.  I loved that his crew also wore the same red caps. But on a less superficial level, I also loved the idea of being an explorer. In the twentieth (and twenty-first ) century it seemed to me that there was nothing new to discover, but apparently the earth holds more wonder than I could fathom. I haven’t felt like an explorer since I was a little girl, wandering the woods surrounding my house. Cousteau’s adventures made me remember mine. He was finding new things, things that people had never seen or imagined before. BREATHING UNDERWATER! He was making the alien lives of undersea creatures of the ocean accessible. That’s so cool.

Working from his vessel Calypso, Cousteau and his colleagues pioneered the Aqualung, the original scuba dive tank without which modern scuba technology couldn’t exist. Cousteau is also well known for his many films and books pertaining to the sea. His team’s photographs and film footage opened the eyes of many people who both had lived by the ocean their entire lives, yet had never truly witnessed what happened beneath the surface, and people who had never even seen the ocean itself before.

But what Cousteau did that inspires me the most is how he used his knowledge to reach out and educate the world. Cousteau’s book The Human, The Orchid and The Octopus was what convinced me to major in biology and environmental studies, in case you didn't already comprehend how much I admire his work. In The Human, The Orchid and The Octopus I was fascinated with the way Cousteau looked at the earth so lovingly, with stern words for the people who inhabit it. I’m excited to read it again for my upcoming research paper! I’ll save some of my Cousteau-enthusiasm for that!

P.S. Please watch this movie

Why Hawks Should Replace Eagles as Our National Bird

Walking through a cornfield on a winter day,
Hearing the rasping scream of a hawk.
That screech is exactly how a raptor should sound.
Human feet cease crunching in the deep snow,
Listening for the beat of wings,
Waiting to see the swift outline cut the clear sky above.
It seems so unreal for such a huge being to float so effortlessly.

But as the sun shines thought long cinnamon feathers,
A huge hawk looms above.
As far as majesty goes in the animal kingdom,
Red tailed hawks are some of the grandest.
Buteo jamaicensis, broad wings and a rusty colored tail,
Flying slowly, in controlled swoops and loops.
Wings stretch from one end of the sky to the other.
Warm, smooth feathers that only he can preen
Cover the hollow bones of this Herculean bird.

The soaring circles become a steep dive into the dead woods,
Disappearing for now, he will not roam far.
There are his woods, his home.
It's amazing how he adapts to us.
Using our telephone poles as perches,
Overseeing the highways we speed to work on and
Plunging from skyscrapers, slicing between buildings.
His shrill cries go unheard by human ears.

Nature knows no limit when it comes to wonder.
Humans fly around the world in airplanes,
But we'll never be able to compare ourselves
To the natural overwhelming prowess,
The sheer power and grandeur,
Or the aeronautical dexterity
That is the flight of a hawk.

Each Day is Unique

“Roughly four thousand years ago, when swarms of slaves were finishing the pyramids in Egypt’s desert as burial palaces for her pharaohs, strong westerly winds were heaping sand up into these hills, sand that retreating glaciers had left after gouging out the Great Lakes, sand washed to the coast when lake water rose- thirty, forty feet higher than levels we know today- and eroded the land.”

                                                                                          -Gayle Boss, “Dunetop Dying”

On Sunday I went to Warren Dunes State Park. It’s too bad it’s not good for the dunes to be walked on, because they are a truly amazing sight to behold. They are always evolving shape and size. Warren Dunes is a masterpiece of nature complete with slopes impossibly steep and unbelievably high. Plus, I knew this was one of the last chances I would get to walk barefoot in the sand before winter. And honestly, finishing Tom Springer’s Looking for Hickories on the beach versus in my cinderblock dorm room? There wasn’t much debate.

Time passes slowly watching the water. Sometimes it’s so interesting though I can’t look away. Every second millions of waves are toppling over each other, pushing towards the beach. The water pulsates and it’s entrancing, almost hypnotic. After a busy week of school, with the promise of an even busier one to follow, going to the beach makes one slow down. There’s no internet and a cell phone is more than just physically burdening. It sounds ridiculous, but it’s so liberating to be free of that technology.