46 posts tagged with "nature"

Last night we turned off the lights early for Earth Hour, and went outside for a good long walk through the neighborhood and on the nearby Campion Trail.

The photo at right is nearly three years old, and represents one of the last good long night walks I had taken - that time at the beach in Port Aransas. While walking in Irving, TX is nowhere near as nice as walking the beach, it was still delightful. We saw no fireflies - too early, if they're out there. We saw and heard no owls, as I had hoped. But the tree shadows from a bright half-moon, overcoming the city glow, was magical in itself. This suburban dweller, overcome by too many street lights, had forgotten about the beauty of moon shadows.

"Fragmentation" often describes our personal lives. Through accident or design, we carve out separate spheres of being: family, work, school, sport, public policy, and so on. When we are healthy, we work toward unifying these through consistent expression of our values. The other extreme becomes hypocrisy.

The long-term tension between science and religion often reinforces that tendency toward fragmentation. Practicing and acting on a traditional Western mechanistic worldview while espousing divinely-grounded spiritual values is not intrinsically hypocritical. But, for me, it is a very limiting experience. In the integration of these two worldviews we find them strengthening each other. Spiritual principles can shape our research methods (viz animal experimentation), and scientific research can shape our application of justice and equality (seeking climate justice, for example).

Birds were not my friends as a child. For some reason birdsong in my backyard was an annoyance. I knew how to distinguish a handful of birds from one another, but they simply held no fascination. Reptiles were much more interesting. In hindsight, I think it was the call of the Northern Cardinal — possibly awakening me in the early hours — that caused my mild disdain. So how did I arrive at this point where birding brings me such joy?

Nature-lovers often speak about transcendent moments, occasions where some experience moved them to a profound awareness of life, the universe, and everything in it. For some, these are timeless minutes, forever memorable, forever inspiring. All of the senses align in memory, and perhaps a bit of wisdom descends in epiphany.

My transcendent moments are not so strong; perhaps that is from a weak sense of smell. Or perhaps because I seek out a low level extraordinary at every turn: the senses are not so overwhelmed in these daily moments, as the ordinary passes beyond rationality. These peek experiences do exist however, and as I sift through the shoebox of memory, two stand out at very different scales.

Beware, o ye who walks in the woods with me. For I cannot help myself: I must share. Look at this little fern over here. This is a nice soapberry tree. So many ant lion nests here! Did you hear the tsip sound? Do you think it's a Dark-eyed Junco or a Yellow-rumped Warbler?

I pray that it is not a subconscious showing-off, know-it-all thing. That accusation has stung me before, in the middle-school classroom. Consciously, I simply love drawing people's attention to that which fascinates me (and yes, please do return the favor). There is a wonder about the natural world, a wonder and a joy that is so great that it often cannot be contained. This joy is reason enough to share with friends and family.

Some folks grow up in households of privilege where trips to the family cabin / ranch / lake-house are common. We had the next best thing: a family friend generous enough to invite us along to The Ranch. Now, The Ranch has a more formal name, but its legend and personal history are best distinguished by turning the general, specific.

My earliest experiences of nature were of playing in the yard — and out back — as a child in a Houston suburb. As I recall it, our backyard had a pecan and some young oaks, along with multiple gardens. There was a red oak — or perhaps a maple? — planted out front, and a sweet gum tree whose seed casings would bring forth caution in even the most carefree of barefoot children. And of course there was the St. Augustine grass. This was all conducive to much play outside. But the best part was behind the fence: The Ditch.

Thanks to recent mowing, I was able to access the west-side of the pond at Sam Houston Trail Park in Irving, TX this morning. The pond is drying up — creating a wonderful concentration of aquatic creatures for the the shorebirds to eat. These photos are as good as I can do. Positively identified:

• American Avocet
• Snowy Egret
• Least Sandpiper
• Stilt Sandpiper (pretty sure, not absolutely sure)
• Greater Yellowlegs
• Northern Shoveler
• Killdeer

I encountered a few more common birds, and just as I was leaving ran into a group of three Lark Sparrows to cap off the muddy morning.

An essay submitted as part of my application to the GreenFaith Fellowship Program. Hopefully I put my best foot forward ;-).

There are no clergy in the Bahá'í­ Faith. There is no seminary, and none can seek a position of leadership based on education, attainment, or station. Its governance is egalitarian and progressively inclusive. And yet it is inaccurate to say there are no leaders.

In the east, you have the Ruby-Throated Hummingbird. In the west, there's the Black-Chinned Hummingbird. As with many other east/west divisions in both the animal and plant kingdoms, the two hummers sometimes overlap right here in Dallas county — for example, you can find both of them at Dogwood Canyon Audubon Center at Cedar Hill. Living in northwestern Dallas County, we did not know which to expect when we set out our feeder a few weeks ago. Thus far, it is has been entirely Black-Chinned.