I am not a steward for the environment

I am not a steward for nature. Wait, what? Why would a wildlife biologist say that? Hear me out on this one, I promise I will come full circle on this and it will make sense, I hope.

The land ethic simply enlarges the boundaries of the community to include soils, waters, plants, and animals, or collectively: the land... In short, a land ethic changes the role of Homo sapiens from conqueror of the land-community to plain member and citizen of it. It implies respect for his fellow-members, and also respect for the community as such.”  -Aldo Leopold

One of my favorite biologists, authors, and modern philosophers (if I may) is Aldo Leopold. Although this statement from "The Land Ethic" was published in 1949, the idea he offers here would arguably still be considered radical here over 60 years later. But even in 1949, this was not a novel idea.

A few years ago I spent some time working in Hawai'i with a small non-profit organization called Hawai'i Wildlife Fund, and I learned that the Hawaiians had long since had a similar idea of nature and their place in it. I had probably known Hannah, the president of H.W.F., for less than an hour when she started to explain to me that conservation work was very different in Hawai'i. Traditionally, Hawaiians did not consider themselves stewards, they saw themselves as a piece of the ecosystem, not some overlord over it. I really liked that mentality. I thought it forced you to think about things in a more holistic sense.

And this brings me to why I don't like the term "steward". The word steward can refer to a designated official for overseeing and organizing, as well as looking after something. At first this sounds like a fine idea, but I think it's sort of a dangerous line of thought. Looking at it this way I feel that you jeopardize seeing yourself as separate from the ecosystem that you are looking after. It may enable you to "do your part" or whatever, but as soon as it gets uncomfortable or politically challenging you can step out.

But that's just the thing. You can't step out of your ecosystem, really. You're ALWAYS part of it. No matter where you are or how far away you are from the woods, you are part of an ecosystem. In fact, unless you're completely self sustained on your own property, you're probably part of several ecosystems simultaneously. But that's the cool thing! You get to be part of this. Your actions have direct consequences, both positive and negative, and you can't escape. That doesn't mean you have to constantly over think things and live in guilt though.

If we were to go back in time we would find that most cultures would also see things in this way. Us folks here in the rural south probably understand this pretty well, despite what some folks might want you to think :). So, in what ways are you tied to this planet? Do some brainstorming and mull it over, some things are less obvious than others.

You can still be a steward if you like, but never, ever, ever forget that you are part of this. You are more than a steward. In a way we are all captains of this "ship", and we will go down with her should she sink. On a positive note, we can steer her to some degree, so long as the winds are in our favor. So let's step back, plot a course, and see where we can go.

Chimney Tops, Great Smoky Mountains. Because I like them.

This Land has a History

The land upon which we stand has a history. Blanketed in the impressions of millennia of influences, each leaving its own unique trace upon the earth. The careful and patient eye can read these signs and learn to read the history of a place. Those who wish to read the land can follow it's story from ancient times, across the Anthropocene, and through the last few hours.

Long before the presence of man, the land was shaped and molded into high mountains, lush valleys, and wide open plains. Where tectonic plates collided land was raised up into mountains. Where rain fell the land was shaped and trees grew, sediment washing down forming fertile soils in the lowlands. The powerful forces of weathering and erosion at work. Here the strongest trees and densest grasses grew. These are the most readily observed and easily understood stories that land can hold. They are ever present and seemingly unchanging. We have noticed them so much that we no longer notice them.

As time passed both beast and man created new history for the land. The beavers dammed creeks, turning low valleys into wetlands. Animals grazed this land, selecting for heartier plants and plants with defense of thorn and poor taste. Lightning struck, fire burned, and wind cleared the forests, creating a heterogeneous landscape of forest and field. Disturbance by forces of nature further molded the land into it's present form. Can you see it in the land? Like small scars, healed but not forgotten. Boding of a time when disturbance was fresh and landscape was changing.

As you walk along you may see an old rotting log, and around it there may be many young trees. With the passing of the elder tree, sunlight increased and it's young began a race for the canopy, a final gift of sunlight from a dying mother. The wind blows and the creaking of many trees draws your attention. Glancing up it is apparent that you are surrounded by many dead trees, all pines. The bark has begun to peel from many and the tops are broken off a few. Walking up to the trees you can see what furrows in the wood where small pine beetles have worked their way through the soft outer flesh of the tree. This pine beetle infestation has slowly but surely killed the pines on the hillside. Soon they will all fall, making way for new species that love sunlight, like blackberry. Next summer there will be an abundance of fruit, much to the delight of the birds.

We have also played a part in this more recent history. Looking down the path you can see the land is broken and segmented. It is as if the gods dug staircases into the hillside to ease their passage. These terraces were used for agricultural crops, helping to reduce soil erosion and regulate soil moisture. Even though crops may not have been present here in 70 years, the terraces have remained and continue to influence the land.

The land also bears the signs of immediate events and changes. Beneath the brush sits a fresh scat from a bobcat. This not only tells the story of the presence of the bobcat, but also the story of the bobcats most recent prey. There is fur, of squirrel or rabbit, and a multitude of small bones within the scat. A nearby tree is scraped bare a few inches from the bottom where a buck in rut has rubbed its antlers. Puddles of muck show who has walked by recently and how fast they were going. The low brush has been cut clean a few inches from the ground. Because it is a clean cut and not a tear you can tell it was made by a rabbit and not some other creature.

Across all forms of land there are signs and stories. They can tell us the history of the land and help us to understand our place upon it. We can learn of our surroundings and the events around us long after they have occurred. Next time you go for a walk in the woods, look around. Who or what is trying to tell you a story from yesterday?