Writing Assignment 9 – Home is where the Heart is.

Bryn Morgan

Up to this point in my life, I’ve never realized how lucky I was to grow up in the environment that surrounded my hometown of Los Alamos, New Mexico. Shortly before the Cerro Grande fire in 2000, my dad took me on a hike through Water Canyon, in the Jemez Mountains. As a falconer, he pays special attention to birds of prey and has a keen eye for any traces of wildlife. It was through this hiking trip that I started to take interest in wildlife and nature. There were flowing rivers that seemed huge at the time, wild raspberries (which we snacked on the whole way there back), bird nests, and my first memory of fungi. I remember each of these vividly, and they have played an extremely important role in my current understanding and appreciation for the environment. A flowing river, in the state of New Mexico, is a pristine image. In a place where water is scarce, interaction with any kind of natural, free-flowing water gave me more joy than you could imagine. The same goes for rain; to this day, thunderstorms are my favorite kind of weather. Through this interaction with small streams and rivers, I have come to appreciate water in a unique way. I cringe when I see people leave the faucet on while they do dishes, brush their teeth, etc. I can’t help but think of that small stream in the middle of hundred of pine trees, and the entire forest fighting to survive the summer’s heat.  Of course, with the brutal sun of New Mexico also came wildfire. What started out as a controlled burn soon began to terrorize our mountains, and within a few weeks, our once beautifully green mountains were bald. I’ve hiked the same canyon since, and though it’s not as lush as I remember, it has reminded me of how powerful Mother Nature really is. Even in extreme adversity, our environment has figured out a way to regenerate. It starts small, with aspen trees poking up and oak brush covering the sparse patches, but hopefully by the end of my lifetime I will begin to see the hundred year old pines finding their way once again.

This particular hiking trip also made a large impact on the way I interact with different species of the environment. We spotted a few nests that day, and though my first instinct was to get as close as possible or even touch the nest, my dad taught me to respect the animal’s boundaries and keep my distance. He explained how the scent of a human’s touch could “offend” the birds, and they may not return to the nest. Not wanting to “offend” anyone, I made sure to watch from a distance and share my environment with the birds. Such a small deed seems miniscule in the grand scheme of things, but as I look back on this memory, it has a striking resemblance to our current situation with endangered species. With population exponentially growing, we are forcing more and more species out of their natural habitats. Once they have nowhere to go, extinction is the only option. If we could learn to look at things in the way my dad taught me, we would begin to understand that plants, animals, and bacteria do have value within themselves. They deserve to share a piece of our planet, and we should consider ourselves lucky to have them.  People take for granted how much joy the environment can give us. In an age where the environment is moving out to make room for technology, I can’t help but picture a grim future for the natural surroundings I grew up with. It’s time that human beings start recognizing the environment as a living, breathing, and receptive entity. Species on this planet have been stretched too thin, and it’s our duty recognize this fact, and work toward a symbiotic relationship.