Urban Nature v. The Wild

So 'the Christmas gift of the year' for me was my new kindle given to me by the owner of 'the dog of the year', and in so doing may have locked in 'father-in-law of the year'...but the jury's still out.  Regardless, I've decided that we as a community need more of such distinctions.  A little recognition brings people together, gives us something to talk about, makes us smile (or gives us something to jealous over). 

For example, if you live in Seattle, I encourage you to send me in your nomination for 'street tree of the month'.  Simply take a picture, send it my way, and my panel of judges (yet to be determined) will decide who wins.  The winner gets all the fame the www. has to offer a tree, and the owner gets to say, "my tree won 'street tree of the month' in January 2010". 

But back to the 'gift of the year', the kindle...I love it because it makes me read more.  And while that means I write less, I don't feel guilty about it because reading is good for the brain and good for the soul.  Maybe one day I'll even start reading on a treadmill or something and it'll be good for my body too. 

So what have I been reading lately...coincidentally, a book about urban nature, and some essays written by my '2010 hero of the year', John Muir, which are always set in the wildest places that nature has to offer...because that's how John Muir, a rugged Scotsman if there ever was one, rolled.  The book about urban nature is called Crow Planet by a Seattle native who got fascinated with crows (as many of us are) and who beautifully makes the case for valuing what little nature does exist between the cracks of our concrete jungles.

On the one hand, I find myself drawn to this notion of making the most of what we have at our fingertips and learning to appreciate fully the places, faces and things we come in daily contact with.  It reminds me of something E.O. Wilson said about the virtues of being a microbiologist vs. a macrobiologist.  When out in the field doing research, Wilson had only to walk 5 feet before becoming completely enthralled in the underside of a log, whereas his macrobiologist counterparts would have to walk miles and miles before finding something of interest.

And from that perspective, I totally see value in 'urban nature'.  It's why I think it's a good idea for EE programs to focus their teaching on common, everyday features of our lives.  In the PacNW, that's spiders, crows, mushrooms, dandy-lions, cedars, rain, etc.  Especially in the fieldtrip frame work, we should aim to show kids how/what to look for so that they can continue to 'research' these things on their own and teach others when the opportunity arises.  And if the lesson revolves around ubiquitous characters such as crows, opportunities will always arise.

And then there's the other side of me that lives vicariously through John Muir's adventures in the wild. One of the last things I read of his was titled 'Stickeen' and told the story of one particular hike over Alaskan glaciers with this dog named Stickeen.  I was riveted to every word and at one point found myself crying on a bus-ride home (part of my effort to shrink that old carbon footprint).  And it wasn't even sad!  It was just intense, and at that moment I realized... I need to get out more.  If reading about the ferocity of nature will bring me to tears, what will experiencing it do?

So as I settle into teaching EE in my new outdoor classroom at the Arboretum, I do so with a mixture of eagerness, responsibility and renewed curiosity to see what I can find and how I can share it.  At the same time I know that if I don't get out for regular doses of wilderness and adventure I will grow stale and soft and either sell out or burn out before I have the chance to make the impact I want to make on this world.  And so even on this Tuesday evening, I look forward to Saturday and a rendezvous with some snowshoes and a mountain. 

Until then, I return to my crows and my kindle and the continued signs of spring peeking around the corner.