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Global Warning - Jul 2, 2009 - Printable Version
- MT
by Robin Buckallew
I’ve been noticing a strange phenomenon lately. As I’ve been indulging myself in my favorite hobbies, notably hiking, nature photography, botany, or any other activity that requires being outside, interacting with the natural world, I’ve found myself strangely alone, just my husband and I, lone explorers on empty trails, empty prairies, empty woods, empty rivers. Driving past a local swimming pool which had just received a welcome influx of cash that allowed it to stay open for the summer, we saw only 2 people…one child, one parent. No one else was swimming on this warm June day. Driving over a popular lake in Des Moines last weekend, we noticed that there were no boats on the lake, although it was a particularly beautiful day for boating. We had just come from a wildlife refuge where we were hiking through a newly restored prairie. Arriving at the refuge, we marveled at the number of cars in the parking lot…surely that must be a wonderful thing, so many people out here wanting to visit the prairie! There were indeed a great many people there when we went inside the learning center to hunt for trail maps…lots of families with parents and children, eager to encounter the joys of the natural world first hand. Then, we got out onto the trail, and encountered…no one. Not one single soul. A beautiful day for hiking, a perfect spot for hiking, an easy trail (this one was even paved, something I don’t usually prefer, but some people do)…and everyone was hanging around inside, looking at the handful of stuffed animals that were in the educational center. None of the other people there were outside to see the mother deer with her fawn that stopped and watched us watching her. No one else was there to see and hear the red wing blackbird, boldly calling and displaying….perhaps courting? No one saw those things but us…and no one else seemed to realize that they missed anything. They saw a short movie about the wonderful things that are to be seen if they step outside the door, and they were satisfied. No need to step outside the door. They played with a few little games in the kid’s maze, and then they turned around and departed back home, comfortable in the knowledge that they’d done their duty by the kids, giving them an educational outing on their vacation. So what’s happening? Why do people think they can experience outdoors without ever actually going out doors? I think I’ll call this phenomenon…the pall of the wild. Throughout human history, humans have been aware, sometimes painfully so, that our destiny was inextricably linked with the cycles of the Earth. We were dependent on the natural world for our very survival, and we studied the cycles of weather, water, and biota very closely. We came to know the animals around us, and recognize which plants were edible and which were poisonous. We knew the cycles of the sun and the moon, and we were aware of tides and droughts in a very visceral way. We built huts and houses to keep out the rain, the cold, and the worst of the sun’s heat, but we didn’t regard those huts as our entire world; in fact, we still realized that the bulk of our world was outside, where nature raged and ranted, soothed and comforted, frightened and thrilled, and most of all, fed, clothed, and housed us. We sought to tame nature, and she sought to tame us…for the most part, it was a draw.
In the modern world, our linkage with nature still exists, but we no longer understand that. For most people, the word nature means something totally separate from, and actually foreign to, humans. We aren’t nature…we’re mankind. Nature is…well, nature. Things like trees, flowers, bears, deer, sharks…that sort of stuff, right? Right. All of that “stuff” is nature…and more. Humans are part of nature, but we now fail to recognize that. Even as science is discovering more and more ways in which humans are linked with nature, and humans are linked with other species, most of us are moving ourselves out of the sense of our linkages. We don’t recognize very many other species. Quick…how many plants that grow locally (not garden plants) can you name? How many different animal species can you name? I used to do an exercise with my students, where they simply listed as many living things as they could in five minutes. In five minutes, I used to get long, detailed lists, including not only the familiar pets and zoo animals, but also exotic, unfamiliar, weird and bizarre animals, animals most of us will only see in books and on the nature channels. This last semester, I finally gave up the exercise…it’s become too difficult. The students sit with blank looks on their faces for most of the five minutes. When they turn in their papers, I find they have listed the names of the other students at their tables, they’ve named their parents and siblings, and sometimes, they’ve even named me (glad to know they recognize I’m a living thing, at least). A few can still get as far as “dog, cat, fish, tree” – you notice, of course, the inspecificity of “fish” and “tree”. It seems they don’t even know one fish from another, or one tree from another. I thought I had reached the nadir of nature recognition when one of my students in Dallas couldn’t recognize a dandelion we passed on a plants of the campus hike in Botany. Little did I know it was going to get worse. Now my students, far from Dallas, living in a rural area surrounded by farm land on all sides, my students can’t even name any living thing outside of humans. Worst of all, they don’t seem to be bothered by it. We have apparently gotten to a point where, in addition to being post-modern, post-partisan, post-racist, post-sexist, we are also post-natural. We have transcended the nature in our nature, and become…what? Unnatural? Artificial? Man-made? No, actually we haven’t. We haven’t transcended anything, we’ve descended into a stupor that doesn’t allow us to notice that which isn’t us.
When I was a child, the parks and the lawns would be filled with playing, shouting, singing children, alive and energetic. Sometimes they were called to the outdoors by their own inner urges to be wild and explore; sometimes they were banished to the outdoors by a harried mother who just couldn’t stand them anymore. No matter…once they were there, they knew what to do. Playing kid-invented games, newly sprung from kid minds, they ranged freely around the neighborhood, ending up at the nearest vacant lot. The swimming pool would be filled to the maximum with noisy kids, having a good time and, hopefully, staying out of trouble. Kids would find their way to the woods for explorations of all sorts. They would examine rocks, wondering what they were made of. They would pick through the leaf litter, finding neat fungus and strange little garter snakes. They would climb trees, go fishing, and just in general explore the world. They would learn all sorts of things that can’t be totally appreciated in a book. Biking, hiking, camping, or just hanging out, kids were learning about the world they were part of. Now, kids are kept indoors. We can’t let our kids roam free, parents tell us. There are dangerous, scary things out there. There are horrible fates that await kids who step so much as a foot outside by themselves. The problem I see with this? The world is no more dangerous than it was when we were kids. The risks to children aren’t any greater. Somehow, the boomers managed to survive childhood and make it into adulthood, where they are now spending their declining years coddling the children of their coddled children, that were considered too at risk to live the same sort of life their parents lived. Most of this fear comes from the mass media, determined to present us with “entertaining” news, and in the process, scaring us to death with overhyped boogeymen. In addition, our children, given the choice of staying inside and “texting”, “tweeting”, or just lounging around checking their facebook page which is all about them, or going outside where they will get hot, dirty, and tired, will inevitably choose the inside world, because it’s the only world they know, and it’s the only world they understand.
In some ways, I suppose, there would be a potential good to the removal of people from the natural world…after all, we have been doing a lot of damage to many of our national parks and wilderness areas by our very mass (See “I Love You to Death”). Unfortunately, we aren’t doing our natural world any favors. The more we remove ourselves from nature, the more alien it becomes. Not so much a part of us, but a “something else”…in short, “the other”. Friends, we don’t have a very good record in dealing with “the other”. Once we begin to see ourselves as outside of, and even above, nature, we begin to scorn the need for nature. We have our brains, we have our technologies, we have our houses, our cars, and our air conditioners. Nature becomes superfluous. Nature becomes...waste. Waste of time, waste of money, waste of labor…just plain waste. This isn’t hyperbole…this is happening. It’s been happening for some time, in the inner cities, where people regard nature as just the luxury of rich folks who go out hiking and just want it nice. Now, that attitude is moving out of the inner cities, where people haven’t had much chance to encounter nature, into the small towns and rural areas, where people don’t take advantage of the chances they have to encounter nature. To paraphrase an old proverb “Those who do not go outside are no better off than those who cannot go outside”. As we become more and more separated from nature, we have little incentive to protect the world around us. Our ignorance of nature will lead us to consume still more of nature’s bounty without any awareness of the damage we’re doing. Little do we know that, as the forests, the prairies, and the lakes become more and more empty of people, we are also becoming more empty. Our world is becoming more constricted, narrower, less complete. We are missing the core of our being, the natural core.
Somewhere between the frenzied visits to natural places that results in their destruction from overuse, and the empty world of air conditioned comfort, there lies a point of equilibrium. Somewhere, we can find a balance that will lead us to the proper ratio of wild and domestic…the proper ratio of outside and inside that will lead us to a full, satisfying life, and a healthy respect for the world we depend on for our very survival. This summer, you can do a few things that will help you restore that balance. Make sure you spend at least a portion of your time outdoors. When you do go out on that hike or that lazy afternoon laying by the lake, don’t take your cell phone. Don’t take your laptop. Don’t take anything but a camera, a good supply of water, and maybe a book. Try to notice at least 3 other species of animal or plant each time you go out. Try to make it a different 3 species each time, so you can begin to get an idea of the richness of the world around you. Make sure to take the kids. They’ll protest at first, especially when you make them leave their electronics at home, but over time, with your help, they might figure out things to do outside. They might find it surprisingly fulfilling. Take a picnic lunch along. Create little games – who can find the most different types of plants? Who can spot the most birds? There are all sorts of little field guides out there that can enhance your experience by allowing you to recognize the animals and plants you see…there are some that even help you recognize them by their tracks, by their scat, and by their song. You can figure out how many animals are around even when you don’t actually see them. This could become sort of a detective game. Over time, you and your family will begin to take great pride in being able to recognize animals, plants, and fungus when you encounter them. You might begin to look forward to these outings, not only for the restfulness and the pleasure of nature, but also for the fact that it will bring your family closer together, doing things together. You won’t be beeping or tweeting or ringing or texting…you’ll be talking and laughing and shouting and singing. Frankly, if I were given the choice (and I am, just like the rest of us), I’d choose taking, laughing, shouting, and singing any day of the week. It’s much more human.
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