The house in Old Lyme served as the perfect site for birdwatching. The confluence of wooded areas, fields, estuaries, and the seashore provided a mixed range of habitats and wide open territory for unobscured observation. As any naturalist would know, edges of habitats like this create the perfect vantage point for viewing wildlife. And so as we lazily strolled back to the mansion from our attempt at canoeing, I pointed out some old friends to the rest of the group: red-winged blackbird, common yellowthroat, song sparrow, and goldfinch. My friend Laura turned to Jeff and said, “Eddie is an expert at identifying birds and other stuff in nature.” Flattered, I hardly consider myself an expert but I know my bird knowledge exceeds most people’s – one of the advantages of living in a nature-obsessed family though. In fact, it’s hard for me to imagine not wanting to learn a few species in order to be familiar with my surroundings. Perhaps other people wish to know these secretes too but have never been taught or don’t know how to use a field guide. Or perhaps they are simply not interested. Either way, the truth revealed to me in Laura’s comment is all too certain – becoming a naturalist is a dying art in our generation. Our parents may not have actually been able to differentiate the fall plumage of a Pine Warbler from a Magnolia Warbler (few can!), but I’d hazard a guess they were at least familiar with the ubiquitous robin and could separate an oak from a maple. Admittedly I’m cynical about this topic, but it seems that our categorical knowledge of plant and animal species is slowly being replaced by car models and TV actors.
Earlier that morning I had the privilege of adding some new friends to my life-list (definition: a lifelist is a lifetime record kept by many birders of species they have seen in the wild). Of particular note was the Piping Plover, an endangered species of sandpiper whose fragile nests built on sand-dunes are threatened by encroaching development. Along our walk we ran into two folks working for the Nature Conservancy, protecting new nests with cages to ward off predators and humans. The duo was lamenting the loss of a nest on the far shore – the plovers scared off by a rowdy group’s recent bonfire. I was glad to see these people out there working to preserve our fragmented ecosystem, but I couldn’t shake the notion that they were all too serious about their job. Rather than being excited to see some fellow naturalists or encourage our participation in the natural world, they seemed most concerned with boosting their number of hatchlings this season. I realize they had a difficult job to do and I am once again taking a pessimistic view; but nonetheless, I think a major problem with our generation’s environmentalism is the strict sense of urgency about saving the environment combined with a waning sense of enjoyment in what we have left. In my opinion, encouraging active participation and enjoyment of nature is often the most crucial step towards saving it. People simply aren’t interested in what they don’t know. But if a few more people can become acquainted with the face of the piping plover, they just might be willing to do something about its disappearance.
PS: New music of interest has been playlisted over there on the right hand side. Also adjusted the code so you can actually use the scrollbar.
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