**A reflection I wrote for one of my classes this semester
“Why do so many people no longer consider the physical world worth watching?” ~Richard Louv
“Kur-plunk!” “Kur-plunk!”
I am sitting on the bank of an estuary in Mexico, watching brown pelicans dive into the water in search of fish. I am about a half hour drive from Bahia de Kino, a small coastal town located in the Mexican state of Sonora. Estuaro Santa Rosa is the name of the estuary, and although I am only about 30 minutes from civilization, I feel like I am in no man’s land. I am sitting where the Sonoran desert meets the ocean. It is a rugged, unforgiving landscape. Hundred year old cardon cacti tower over me, while twisted, gnarled elephant trees make a poor attempt at providing shade from where I sit.
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| Estuaro Santa Rosa |
An estuary is an ecosystem created from a body of fresh water that flows into the ocean. It is an area of transition where fresh water and salt water merge to create brackish water, and the surrounding landscape is influenced by the ebb and flood of the tides. In fact, the tide is currently ebbing. I sit and watch as the water level drops and smooth sand bars begin to appear in the channel of the estuary. Ospreys circle overhead as delicate long legged snowy egrets stalk along the shallows in search of prey.
And—“Kur-plunk!”
The silence is broken, as, dumbfounded, I watch several brown pelicans, 30 some feet in the air fold their cumbersome wings in close against their bodies and plummet, at what seems like breakneck speed, beak first into the murky depths of the estuary. Like rockets falling from the sky. “Mmmmrrrrrrrrrr—Kur-plunk!”
The birds hit the water, disappearing beneath the smooth surface, only to reappear a second later, gulping a fish down, seemingly unaffected by their face plant into the water. The sound of their diving echoes all around me. It is so loud I can hear it without even having to see the bird in action. Plunge diving is what this behavior is called. To me, it seems like a perfect way to get a headache, but to them, it appears to be an effective means of getting a meal.
I sit in utter fascination and watch the natural cadence of the estuary unfold around me. I realize that I have found the perfect location for a self-reflection on my relationship with the natural world. Why am I so enthralled with the simple act of a large bird plunging into water to catch a fish? How did I gain this sense of wonder that I often feel as I look upon a natural landscape? Why do we not all have this sense of wonder? Why are some people terrified by something as innocent as a butterfly?
These are the questions that plague me as I sit here watching nature go about its business. Louv states that “nature is imperfectly perfect, filled with loose parts and possibilities, with mud and dust, nettles and sky, transcendent hands-on moments and skinned knees” (p. 97, 2008). This quote speaks volumes to me. It makes me think of my childhood and hours spent in the bamboo patch, out behind our house, playing cops and robbers and hide and go seek with my brother. I think about the summers I spent roaming the large hill behind our barn, catching baby field mice and salamanders and bringing them home tucked in a pocket made by the hem of my shirt, held together by my grubby fingers.
I grew up in a rural area on a family operated dairy farm with acres and acres of land at my fingertips. By many, I was viewed as the poor kid in town, but to me, I was given a luxury that not many have access to today. I had a free, safe environment to explore in with parents who were determined to make me go outside rather than let me sit in front of the TV watching cartoons all day. Many children today do not have this. They live in urban environments where it is safer to just remain inside than to be outside playing. They do not have parents that work in an environment that allows them to be home with their kids outside and still be able to call it work. All of these variables make for a different experience and I totally understand this difference.
Although I do understand this, I still find myself wondering why is nature viewed so differently now? Why am I so comfortable in a natural setting and others are not? Is it because I had a huge backyard to play in? Is it because my parents encouraged me rather than forbade me from catching field mice or salamanders? The only rule I had to follow in regards to these little creatures was that they weren’t allowed in the house. Needless to say, I broke that rule as often as I could, due to the simple fact that it was a rule.
Society has changed even in the short amount of time that I have been an adult. There are less and less farms every day and more urban development. With more urban development comes the idea that being outside is a fearful place and children need to be protected from it. I agree with much of this, but how do we still encourage children to discover a sense of wonder? How do we encourage them to be able to look at a brown pelican and not feel fear, but rather wonder?
Upon my return from Estuaro Santa Rosa, I discovered that brown pelicans actually have internal air pockets along their front chest cavity. These air pockets are there to help cushion the bird against the force of their impact into the water while also providing buoyancy. It is these air pockets that make the bird pop up out of the water like a bobber on a fishing line just teased by a fish. I thought this to be fascinating. Brown pelicans have air bags, who knew?
The curiosity and sense of wonder I felt at the estuary is what encouraged me to discover more about this bird. I would like to do this as an educator, to expose others to the natural wonders of the outdoors in a safe enough and engaging enough manner that they go home and want to learn more on their own and then share their excitement with their parents. Perhaps if this practice was adopted in more schools, outdoor centers, youth groups, and by educators, mentors, and parents, we would make more progress in establishing curiosity and a sense of wonder toward the natural world. This doesn’t have to happen in a remote location in Mexico, it can easily happen in someone’s backyard or on the sidewalk in downtown Manhattan. It can happen anywhere.
Louv, R. (2008). Last child in the woods: Saving our children from nature-deficit disorder (2nd ed.). New York, NY: Workman Publishing Company, Inc.
And—“Kur-plunk!”
The silence is broken, as, dumbfounded, I watch several brown pelicans, 30 some feet in the air fold their cumbersome wings in close against their bodies and plummet, at what seems like breakneck speed, beak first into the murky depths of the estuary. Like rockets falling from the sky. “Mmmmrrrrrrrrrr—Kur-plunk!”
The birds hit the water, disappearing beneath the smooth surface, only to reappear a second later, gulping a fish down, seemingly unaffected by their face plant into the water. The sound of their diving echoes all around me. It is so loud I can hear it without even having to see the bird in action. Plunge diving is what this behavior is called. To me, it seems like a perfect way to get a headache, but to them, it appears to be an effective means of getting a meal.
I sit in utter fascination and watch the natural cadence of the estuary unfold around me. I realize that I have found the perfect location for a self-reflection on my relationship with the natural world. Why am I so enthralled with the simple act of a large bird plunging into water to catch a fish? How did I gain this sense of wonder that I often feel as I look upon a natural landscape? Why do we not all have this sense of wonder? Why are some people terrified by something as innocent as a butterfly?
These are the questions that plague me as I sit here watching nature go about its business. Louv states that “nature is imperfectly perfect, filled with loose parts and possibilities, with mud and dust, nettles and sky, transcendent hands-on moments and skinned knees” (p. 97, 2008). This quote speaks volumes to me. It makes me think of my childhood and hours spent in the bamboo patch, out behind our house, playing cops and robbers and hide and go seek with my brother. I think about the summers I spent roaming the large hill behind our barn, catching baby field mice and salamanders and bringing them home tucked in a pocket made by the hem of my shirt, held together by my grubby fingers.
I grew up in a rural area on a family operated dairy farm with acres and acres of land at my fingertips. By many, I was viewed as the poor kid in town, but to me, I was given a luxury that not many have access to today. I had a free, safe environment to explore in with parents who were determined to make me go outside rather than let me sit in front of the TV watching cartoons all day. Many children today do not have this. They live in urban environments where it is safer to just remain inside than to be outside playing. They do not have parents that work in an environment that allows them to be home with their kids outside and still be able to call it work. All of these variables make for a different experience and I totally understand this difference.
Although I do understand this, I still find myself wondering why is nature viewed so differently now? Why am I so comfortable in a natural setting and others are not? Is it because I had a huge backyard to play in? Is it because my parents encouraged me rather than forbade me from catching field mice or salamanders? The only rule I had to follow in regards to these little creatures was that they weren’t allowed in the house. Needless to say, I broke that rule as often as I could, due to the simple fact that it was a rule.
Society has changed even in the short amount of time that I have been an adult. There are less and less farms every day and more urban development. With more urban development comes the idea that being outside is a fearful place and children need to be protected from it. I agree with much of this, but how do we still encourage children to discover a sense of wonder? How do we encourage them to be able to look at a brown pelican and not feel fear, but rather wonder?
Upon my return from Estuaro Santa Rosa, I discovered that brown pelicans actually have internal air pockets along their front chest cavity. These air pockets are there to help cushion the bird against the force of their impact into the water while also providing buoyancy. It is these air pockets that make the bird pop up out of the water like a bobber on a fishing line just teased by a fish. I thought this to be fascinating. Brown pelicans have air bags, who knew?
The curiosity and sense of wonder I felt at the estuary is what encouraged me to discover more about this bird. I would like to do this as an educator, to expose others to the natural wonders of the outdoors in a safe enough and engaging enough manner that they go home and want to learn more on their own and then share their excitement with their parents. Perhaps if this practice was adopted in more schools, outdoor centers, youth groups, and by educators, mentors, and parents, we would make more progress in establishing curiosity and a sense of wonder toward the natural world. This doesn’t have to happen in a remote location in Mexico, it can easily happen in someone’s backyard or on the sidewalk in downtown Manhattan. It can happen anywhere.
References
Louv, R. (2008). Last child in the woods: Saving our children from nature-deficit disorder (2nd ed.). New York, NY: Workman Publishing Company, Inc.