strange behaviors

Cool doings from the natural and human worlds

  • Richard Conniff writes about behavior, in humans and other animals, on two, four, six, and eight legs, plus the occasional slither.

  • Categories

  • Wall of the Dead

Learning to Feel at Home

Posted by Richard Conniff on June 21, 2011

This week I’m at a conference at the North Cascades Institute, in northern Washington, about making natural history matter in the modern world.  The sponsoring organization is the Natural History Network, and I’ve been struck by a few of things I’ve heard people say today.

My favorite, from Tom Fleischner, who teaches environmental studies at Prescott College in Arizona:  “Natural history is the process of falling in love with the world.    That’s a very powerful thing.  So much of environmental work tends to be based on fear rather than love.”

We were talking about the ways we come to know the natural history of places, and Amanda Barney, a fisheries biologist from the University of Washingon, uttered this  thought:  “People learn more about where they go than where they’re from.”  I have a hunch that this sentence resonated with me because I have spent so much of my life traveling to write about remote places.  There was a time when I felt as if I could find my way from Galway to Dublin blind, almost by muscle memory.  But I didn’t recognize half the street names in my home town.  And though I can talk in detail about rhinos in southern  Africa or piranhas in Venezuela, I can’t identify all that many species in my own backyard.  In his journal, Henry David Thoreau once wrote:  “It takes a man of genius to travel in his own country, in his native village; to make any progress between his door and his gate.” (Journal, 6 August 1851)

In the same vein,  Reed Noss of the University of Central Florida later said:  “You have to know your place–the flora, the fauna, the watershed, the history of where you live, so you feel at home.”

Carlos Martinez del Rio of the University of Wyoming  put roughly the same thought in more personal terms.  He uses isotopes to trace how an animal (himself included) has lived and he said:  “I am 85 percent Wyoming.  I’ve analyzed my hair, fingernails, and skin, and I come from the land that I love.”

One other thought:  It’s remarkable how much poetry comes up in the conversation of people who are scientists by profession.  It reminds me of the quote  from E.O. Wilson:  “The ideal scientist thinks like a poet but works like a bookkeeper.”   The setting here is amenable to poetry.  I went for a walk this morning by a still lake with forested mountains leaping sharply up from the opposite shore, and beyond them, taller mountains veined with snow, and with soft clouds wrapped like scarves around their peaks.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s