During my hours as a volunteer Roving Wildlife Interpreter at Sherburne National Wildlife Refuge I putter along the Wildlife Drive hoping to meet some visitors with good questions for me. ("Good" means ones I can answer intelligently.) It's a delight to share an observation of a distant bird or a close-up look at a wildflower with interested visitors. Sometimes I learn more from them than they do from me. At times a connection with these folks seems to just happen with no effort required from either side.
Occasionally I see some rhinocerous people driving by. I use this tag to lump together all those people who take the drive at a steady 20 miles an hour just skimming the scenery with their eyes. I can only imagine they're looking for a rhinocerous even though we don't have any here in Minnesota. They're not about to stop for anything smaller or less spectacular. If they actually saw a rhinoceros they would probably stop to watch it for a minute or two before driving on. I wish I could reach these people and let them know about the pleasure in the small stuff.
At the other end of the spectrum I've met a few birders who will set up their spotting scopes and stay rooted to one spot for half an hour while they enjoy observing a family of nesting eagles or a peregrine falcon watching over its kingdom from a tree top.
True, the big stuff in nature is impressive. We humans seem designed to be attentive to things on a large scale. That's probably a basic survival skill. But for me, and I suspect for many others, the real joy in nature comes from the small stuff. That means those things that require a bit of focused attention; observations that reward us with a moment of understanding; a fresh insight that increases our sense of oneness with the natural world. Such observations involve some learned skills. They use the most acute aspects of our senses. And they provide a deeper sense of reward than everyday casual observations.
Initially our joy may come from basic identification. Recognizing a flower, or bird, or butterfly and having confidence in that recognition provides a first step into nature, the first excitement of something achieved. There are endless opportunities to stay in this mode. Once you know all your trees you can start on ferns, then dragonflies, then birds, ad infinitum.
Identification will always be a pleasure. Coming across some citizen of the natural world can be akin to greeting a cherished friend. The pleasure is always there. And it requires nothing more than recognition. And as with human friendships the pleasure of greeting changes over time from a flush of excitement upon connecting with a new found friend to a comfortable feeling of appreciation for those who have truly become part of our lives.
With these writings I will share some thoughts and feelings growing out of my moments of connection with nature and hopefully encourage you to reflect upon your own experiences. And maybe between us we'll encourage someone else to begin a life-long process of connecting with the natural world.
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