Afternoons of Reverie: March 2011

Nature Journal: The Living Planet Aquarium

Tuesday, March 29, 2011 Mikentire 0 Comments Category : Aquariums

At the beginning of the semester I contemplated what sort of meaningful service I could provide. I had secured a volunteer internship at Mountain Horse Medical Center in Park City and thought for a moment that maybe that could count. But then I realized that I was going to do that anyway: I’m a pre-vet student and I desperately need experience. So I got to thinking again. Before my mission I volunteered as a Docent at Utah’s Hogle Zoo. I loved it, but the program had changed and I wouldn’t be doing the same things. So then I visited the Living Planet Aquarium. It was wonderful. This was what I wanted to do and I quickly signed up.

Earlier I wrote about the zoological institutions and their roles in conservation. But today I want to write about something else they do. They complete us. There is something about wildlife documentaries, the Discovery Channel, and Animal Planet that makes us whole. Without a doubt, it has something to do with how removed we are from our own world. We lock ourselves away in our cities and pretend that this world has only to do with business, economics, language, and culture. And we live pretty happy lives. But something isn’t right. We eat food but have no idea where it comes from – except from the store. Sophisticated cityscapes block our views of the simple and whole. We go on living quite happily for some time in this way. Until that certain missing something accumulates with enough of other missing somethings and we feel ready to explode. Something is wrong. We buy paintings or photographs of landscapes. We make it a priority to center one of the world’s most metropolitan areas around 843 acres of hallowed park land. We build zoos, plant botanical gardens, and play in parks to remind us that there is more to life than what we live.

We do it because we realize that anthropocentrism alone is unable to answer for our experiences here on Earth. There is certainly something to our differences with the rest of the world. Language, art, science, and reasoning do separate us from the rest of our fellow beings. We will never be the puppy Dillard patted in her book. Our experiences will often be different. But these differences by themselves are not enough to satisfy us. But because of these differences, biocentrism is also not the answer. Don’t get me wrong – we are as much a part of this world as are the other organisms. They too have inherent value. But we have the ability to see and analyze what is around us. Cause and effect are not unknown to us. Eventually we could see that some of our favorites were leaving this world, that we were the cause, and that we had to take action. So finally we got around to protecting them. Why though? Because we are connected to them. We feel responsible for losing them. It’s in this mixture of biocentrism and anthropocentrism that we find true happiness. Here the wonders of the world are appreciated and cared for by the very differences that made us human in the first place.

Now back to the aquarium. Volunteering there is wonderful because I help people rediscover this feeling. The underwater world is so unknown to most of them. It stimulates a sense of wonder and mystery. For most people it’s something they’ve never seen. Looking into these aquaria reminds them that our world is more fascinating than the busyness of their everyday lives. They wander through Discover Utah and are surprised at all the things that can be found in their backyard. Then it’s into Ocean Explorer where they see octopus, sea turtles, and sea jellies for the first time. They get to touch a sting ray and it reminds them of petting their dogs. They name the rays, give them personalities, and in this interaction they bombard me with questions. From there they go on a Journey to South America where they meet cute Gentoo penguins, caimans, an anaconda, and plenty of fish that make you feel small. I love watching the wonder in their eyes. One of the volunteer posts is greeting the guests at the entrance. Their eyes seem dull, tired of waiting in line, and irritated at the impatience of their children. But something magical happens when they press their noses up to that first tank. That all melts away. Eyes light up, brows soften, and intrigued smiles spread across faces.

I love volunteering at The Living Planet Aquarium and plan to keep on doing so. Each time I get to teach people about some of the most fascinating animals. I get to preach the gospel of conservation to an audience that has had their hearts softened by the fantasies of nature. But most of all I get to bring them back in touch with the environment and bring them back to real life.

Nature Journal: Beyond Life

Tuesday, March 29, 2011 Mikentire 0 Comments Category : Nature

To be honest, our class trip to Goblin Valley and Little Horse Canyon began way too early after way too late of a night and I felt that I had to go. But after some nice chat, a good nap, and a long drive we found ourselves at our destination and I found myself in love with everything around me. The thing I love about Utah is how fantastically different one location is from another. And here in this land of sculpted stone and warm red sands I felt like I had left home but somehow was discovering another. I have been in similar landscapes hundreds of times. There was something different here though. It was my first time in a slot canyon and I could feel the forces that had carved this piece of artwork into the crust of the earth.

The whole day my mind was filled with erosion. I could see water flowing down the sharp curves and sudden drops but then quickly filling up the narrows. The wind whipped at my back kicking up the minute remains at what had once been this great canyon. It slashed the walls as it made its way up the canyon, eddied in small pools along the canyon vertices, and carried parts of us to who knows where. I felt this canyon was changing me too. This unseen water and these invisible winds were shaping me right here right now.

It made me think of the power of such natural forces. The movement of rock, air, and water more often than not fall short of our notice. Our gaze usually falls upon ourselves – we’re pretty selfish that way. But when we do look out beyond ourselves – beyond the human – we tend to focus on other organisms: trees swaying, fish swimming, moles digging. Almost as if the mediums they are engaging are somehow separated from us. It takes something drastic to get our attention. The earth has to seize and send tremors through rock and stone, great waves result to hurling themselves from their depths, while high and low pressure winds find each other to create monsters that tear through our cities. And then we finally notice. But in this quiet canyon, I was connected to these systems without headline or disaster. They were a part of me.

This earth is awesome by itself. Some of the most impressive scenes in this world are ones devoid entirely of life. Lightning flashes across the sky and waves crash all on their own. And everything in Goblin Valley seemed to be struggling for life. But they were the afterthoughts. It was the fantastic rock formations that took the center stage. I find it interesting that biocentrism – not ecocentrism – is the opposite of antropocentrism. It should really be somewhere in the middle. The raw elements of the earth are as much a part of our environment and our relationships to it as are the organisms we share them with.

I love the dynamism of this place. The world is full of mystery. The rocks we look at today didn’t always look like this. A great portion of Utah used to hide underwater. Glaciers carve homes and ecosystems into living hillsides. Erosion and formation battle each other in a never ending series of mountains, canyons and valleys. 99% of all living organisms are extinct. They came, they lived, and they vanished. They had their time leaving their marks for us in the rocks. We aren’t much different. We too are leaving our stories. And I hope they’re good ones. Hopefully we will stop leaving the marks we do now. Hopefully the stories we will leave will be ones full of heroism and responsibility, of virtue, conservation, and character – and I hope those are the ones that we can leave deep – etched forever in the stone for all to see.

Nature Journal: Memories

Tuesday, March 22, 2011 Mikentire 0 Comments Category : Animals

Today we put my dog Beau down. He’s had cancer for a while now and for the last couple months he’s continually lost weight. I got a call last night from my mom informing me that he couldn’t stand up. So naturally, I left what I was doing to be with my dog in his last hours. When I arrived it was clear that he was going to have to be put down. My family didn’t seem to agree – he’d be fine in the morning right? I slept by his side, waking up periodically to make sure he was still breathing. But morning came and he wasn’t better. I talked my parents through the euthanasia process – something I’ve seen quite a few times in my time as a pre-veterinary student. I was surprised by a cold unfeeling and a momentary panic that my future career was going to leave me without emotion or soul. But things are different when it’s your dog.

When the lights that leave those eyes are the same ones you’ve cherished for the last eleven years it isn’t the same at all. This animal isn’t a client you’ve just met – he’s your family. The emotions you feel aren’t empathy or sympathy. They’re real, they’re yours and they’re strong. So sure enough when the time came, I found myself emotional, teary-eyed, and secretly grateful that my previous experiences with putting animals down hadn’t robbed me of my chance to grieve. We took him home and buried him in a small corner of the front yard. While digging his grave, we came across some of the bones of Ginger, our Golden Retriever who had died over five years earlier. I felt like Dr. Brennan from Bones– torn between the emotion of the moment and the intrigue of the science before me –wondering how such a bare frame held something I loved so much and amazed at how the beautiful arrangement worked so perfectly.

We held a little funeral service. Each of us went around sharing our favorite memories of Beau. I loved his intelligence and his mischief. My mom could see him as a puppy. Matt saw the adorable father he was and the ridiculously cute puppies he sired. Meagan thought of the ‘weddings’ we had performed for him and Ginger, and later him and Bailey. And Mitch reminded us of his great temperament and never-ending companionship. We sat on hallowed ground as tears streamed down our reminiscent faces.

All this got me thinking. What makes this small spot of dirt tucked behind our trees and corned by our fence so sacred to me? The remains of two animals? What makes these animals so special as pets or this house as my home? Memories & Relationships. We take parts of our souls and we infuse them with the world around us. We feel, breathe, and live in these places. They are as much a part of us as we are a part of them. We are a relationship-oriented species. We bond with the homes, animals, and landscapes we associate with. We have pets because they freely give the companionship we seek and reflect our own wishes and desires. We form nations because we first developed mutual bonds with each other. Our art and our words scream these relationships. And with these relationships there are times we won’t forget, moments that inspired us. Ones that made us laugh, cry, cringe, or hide. The never-ending cascades of memories continue to strengthen these relationships. This is what makes space place, house home, and pet family. I wrote earlier about the connectedness of the world. But it isn’t just ecological connectedness that makes this world beautiful. This world is beautiful because we, as humans, have formed these relationships with everyone and everything around us.

When camping you are always told to ‘leave it better than you found it.’ Ecologically speaking, I think we only know enough to limit how much we mess it up. At best, our efforts are really just to make the land ‘prettier’ than it was when we came. But spiritually and emotionally? I hope we form bonds with each piece of land we visit and each animal we encounter. I hope our souls communicate with those around us. And I hope it does leave both parties better. So here’s to you Beau: you certainly did just that.

Nature Journal: Snow

Saturday, March 05, 2011 Mikentire 0 Comments Category : Nature

Winter can be a gloomy season. We watch the leaves fall off the trees in a kind of frenzied anticipation. The trees themselves seem to be excited about these events. The sky fills with a myriad of colors and a mixture of paint strokes. It doesn’t seem too far-fetched to catch a vision of what it might mean to ‘paint with the colors of the wind’ at times such as these. In the end these colorful batches of Autumns long gone end up in brown piles on the ground. The trees that once stood in such regal glory crowned in the green of health, fertility, and renewal now stand naked, stripped to nothing but the dull grays of their bark. The animals flee; birds fly south; the insects hide. It seems nothing wants to stay here anyway. But here we are. We find ourselves stuck in this dying season around us because our jobs and our houses say so. Our pastoral depictions of a friendly Fall are quickly replaced by the looming projections of an apocalyptic Winter. For me at least, apocalyptic scenes of the environment are dominated by these visions of brown-leafless trees where we are deserted by the animals who have much more sense and find ourselves alone, facing the messes we’ve made.

I came home from my mission in the middle of March almost two years ago. Two years living in the beauties of a rain forest will do things to you. Beautiful, uplifting things. I didn’t come home to the evergreen blossoming of endless forests however. It was Winter. And it was brown, dull, and trees were few and far apart. But most of all it was depressing. And Winter can certainly be that way. At these times it can be hard to find the peaceful harmony described by the Pastoral. Only the danger of the Sublime and the threat of the Apocalypse in nature greet us. And I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t tend to be my favorite.

But something happens in Winter in this part of the world that doesn’t happen everywhere. Somewhere in the upper atmosphere, a speck of dust or a tiny ice crystal float among the chilled droplets of water making their way along their endless cyclical journeyings. And here, where temperatures are just right, these cooled droplets decide to get together with these specs in the most intricate and original of ways. As they do, a beautiful form of precipitation forms. The infant snowflakes make their way toward the earth, endlessly sculpted by the atmosphere and changing temperatures as they descend. All this happens without our knowledge until we either walk outside trying to catch the flakes on our tongues or wake up to find ourselves blanketed in a world of white.

There is something ratifying about snow in Winter. Nature is kind. She doesn’t leave us alone with the browns and the decays from a forgotten Fall. She decorates this strange world in memorable ways. Pastoral images of sledding, carriage rides, skiing, and snow-shoeing come to mind. Sublime terrors of blizzards and sheets of ice take over the dull boredom left over by the seasonal metamorphosis. And even our apocalyptic nightmares of dark futureless worlds are spiked with the wildness of cold and the stark contrast of fields of white. Snow comes with Winter. You knew it when you signed up. So what if it’s cold? Get out there and look at the transient beauty that only accompanies this season. I hear people all the time talk of ‘being sick of the snow’. I love it. It brings character to this period of inactivity. So these last few weeks as I walked out into the dancing snow, I couldn't have been happier.

“There were snow flurries in the air today
early for my liking, snow flurries coming
in small singular spirals, falling through the air
spun by their shapes, the tug of the wind
sitting in the office, watching them tumble
by my window, pause in the conversation with client
marvel for a moment at the ballet before me
forward scouts for their brethren to follow
later in the season when fall yields to winter
soon enough they will come, in legions”

-Raymond Foss, Snow Flurries

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Nature Journal: The Living Planet Aquarium

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