Afternoons of Reverie: February 2011

Nature Journal: The Faces of Conservation

Monday, February 28, 2011 Mikentire 0 Comments Category : Aquariums , Causes

“Look mom! Penguins are REAL!” I volunteer at The Living Planet Aquarium and I hear a lot of things. Some correct things, usually wrong things, but definitely a lot of funny things. But that one’s got to top it off. And as entertaining as I find it to be, I also find it fascinatingly enlightening. Here is some little boy convinced that the penguins he saw on TV couldn’t be real, but here at a small aquarium in Sandy, Utah he had seen eleven living, breathing, swimming penguins that in fact were real. This is why zoos and aquariums deserve funding, why their existence is so vital to us. They start as a sort of ratification that the beautiful world we see on the Discovery Channel really does exist. But then they do something more. They make us fall in love with it and realize it needs protection.

The word zoo itself is an abbreviation of zoological garden that first came into fashion by the London Zoological Gardens. The psychology behind gardens takes interesting turns as animals are added into the mix. The botanical beauty of the world is designed not only to bring aesthetic pleasure and a sort of creationistic control to the human viewer, but with the addition of animals they serves as a kind of natural frame intended to give us a glimpse of how these creatures really live. But of course that’s not really how these animals live at all. But is there really a problem with that?

Critics of zoos tend to appeal to our very human notion of freedom and use words like prisons, liberation, and wild to create strong guilt about the housing of God’s creations. But here we need to stop for a minute and think about what it is that they are doing. In our personification of other organisms we always bring certain human traits to the foreground of our arguments while leaving other key aspects of our own humanity in the shadows. Don’t get me wrong here. I love nature. I love God’s creations and there is nothing like seeing them interacting on their own out in the wilderness oblivious to our existence. But let’s not forget that those same notions of liberty and freedom that we use to describe ourselves and try to use on them are in fact very human words. These creatures do not live in a world where food and shelter are provided. They are in a struggle for survival. And I’m not just talking about endangered species here.

Our romanticized notions of the natural world, while beautiful and inspiring are only one side of the story. “Nature red in tooth and claw,” as Tennyson put it, is the darker side. The animals and plants of this world are engaged in very real contests where predator/prey and parasite/host relationships can be more than just straining; they can be deadly. Ecological balances are rather wobbly at best and when outside pressures are added to these systems they seem ready to collapse. I count it as one of the Lord’s tender mercies that some are still going at all. My objective here is not to depress, but rather to educate. The natural world can be a deadly place. Zoological institutions then take these creatures out of such circumstances and guarantee them food, shelter, protection from poaching and medical care – much more than they could have hoped for in the wilds of the world. Exhibits are improving and our knowledge of exotic animal medicine and care is expanding rapidly. They may not be at home, but they’re definitely in good hands.

But these institutions are more than nice hotels. Zoos are part of the connections we seek because of our estrangement from the natural world. Pent up in cities and suburbs, we find ourselves seeking experiences with the natural organic wilds left in the world. Political orientations, environmental awareness level, and social standing all become irrelevant. If there’s one thing I’ve noticed about people by volunteering at the Hogle Zoo and the Living Planet Aquarium, it’s that we all need these experiences. People from all walks of life come to these institutions looking for something. And every one of them find it. Even the most cynical of people – and you can tell who they are – can’t help be awed by the beauty of nature and the connection we feel with these creatures. We need zoos and aquariums because they provide that very connection.

But we also need zoological establishments because they are geared toward saving these creatures and spreading a message of conservation. Many of the animals we hold dear are in danger of being lost. Zoos provide responsible breeding programs and coordinated efforts to restore these creatures or at the very least keep them from leaving us forever. Zoos and aquariums are the faces of conservation. People come, pay for admission, make donations, and contribute to conservation efforts. But those people also leave with an education, a smile, and a greater appreciation for the natural world. And I think at those moments everyone has at least one thought of what their role in these conservation efforts are. Regardless of whether they go on to act on those thoughts, we’ve got them thinking. Find yourself a weekend and go to a Zoo or an Aquarium and just have a good time – because these institutions are more than just educational – they’re also a whole lot of fun!

Nature Journal: Light

Thursday, February 10, 2011 Mikentire 0 Comments Category : Nature

Sunday morning I woke up early to hike Squaw Peak and watch the sun rise. Well to be honest I didn’t intend for it to be a hike, but the rode was blocked and I was determined to see it. Before long the fascinating notion of light and its effects on us began to run through my mind. Here I was in the freezing cold and it was dark. I had my eleven year old brother who had spent the weekend with me, but besides that we were completely alone. Not too far up the path we found a carcass. Comforting. So here we were in the dark cold surrounded by death. The poor thing was some young fawn reduced to nothing more than a ribcage held fast to a spinal column by leathery sinews. It was an appropriate symbol of the elements we found ourselves in.

Leaving the fawn behind, we pressed onwards. The darkness gave way to morning and we could follow the reflective snow laid out nicely for our path up the mountain. But everything was dull here. There was no color in this world of night and everything was blurred. Maybe that’s why night can be such an apt metaphor for death. We fear it. To the faithless, death is nothing more than an end of perception where light cannot penetrate and all is obscured. And in the beginning of that nighttime excursion, I found myself wary. The snow near the carcass was littered with paw prints. They were those of coyotes, but the effect was still as chilling as if they had been the larger prints of wolves or mountain lions. What other creatures lurked in those shadows? I’ll probably never know.

But as we ascended the winding mountain, something remarkable began to happen. The dull, murky blurs of the world began to melt. Color, form, and texture were taking their place. Dark silhouettes of mountains were now full of life and character and their beauty was staggering. I live here - HERE. This emerging beauty is my backyard. How lucky is that? The warming skies were doing more than filling my eyes with detail and color though. They were filling my being with hope. There were no coyotes behind these trees. Frolicking squirrels and singing birds live here. The dead fawn stopped being a symbol of doom and became something I couldn’t wait to examine on the way back down the mountain.

And then it happened. The sky erupted into astonishing shades of light pink and baby blue. Night had finally given way. Golden rays of liquid sunshine flooded the valley below and everything woke up in its warmth. The sky was beautiful. The once dark clouds that seemed to be ominous signs of storms sure to come, were now nothing more than colorful wisps of cotton candy. Everything was bright and happy in the world. I wanted things to stay like that forever. But of course they never do. The delicate pink and infant blues of the newborn day gave way to the deeper blues of midday. The sunrise was over.

I wandered back down the mountain astonished at how far we had really climbed. In our rush to not miss it we had apparently sprinted up this thing. No wonder Mitch was tired. In the long journey down to the car I couldn’t help but appreciate the new scene before my eyes. I had seen it all before on the way up but it was so different now. It was real – living even. It had been nothing but silhouette and shade before. As I mused on the change and how this world had taken on life in the last hour of my experiencing it, I realized how the daily journeys of the sky are reminiscent of our own journeys through life.

The sun breaks over the horizon and showers the world in light blues and tender pinks – the very colors we bring infants home in. Everything is new and the world is mystery. It’s fabulous. Over time these blues deepen and the pink fades into nothing. The sky grows up. Things happen. Clouds come and go and the occasional storm darkens the place. But really it’s just a bunch of monotony and sometimes we don’t even notice it. It makes me wonder if there’s any pink left in my sunrise or if it’s over by now. But even in the adult sky’s uniformity there are still moments that take your breath away. Sometimes the sun hits you just right and you feel as if sunshine itself has infused with your soul. Clouds take on interesting shapes and become the stuff of dreams. Eventually though, the sun heads into the west, and we find ourselves at the sunsets of our lives. The blue deepens. It becomes regal even – a sort of deep navy full of experience. And then it happens. Rich golds and storied oranges streak across the sky before giving way to majestic reds and royal purples and finally the quiet tranquility of night. Night – where the sky gives way and we the heavens as they really are.

“Each day’s a gift and not a given right.” Let’s make the most of what we’ve got.