There is a story about a city dweller and a backpacker walking along a busy city street. The backpacker stopped and said, “Did you hear that?” The city dweller said, “No. What?” “A cricket,” said the backpacker. “How did you hear a cricket amid all this traffic noise?” asked the city dweller. They continued down the street picking up on their previous conversation. Secretly, the backpacker slipped out a quarter, letting it rattle onto the sidewalk. Suddenly the city dweller turned and looked for the coin.
I am not always in touch with my surroundings. However, it is a joy to be awakened out of mental meanderings by bird song, or other sounds of nature. Sometimes I sit on my deck hearing—and watching birds. Some of the birds are readily recognized by their distinctive call; a mourning dove, a hoot owl, the chirp of a redbird. Occasionally a chipmunk, or a squirrel scoots by. Last night as I drove home, a little brown bunny rabbit was sitting in the middle of my lawn. Later Jennifer, my daughter, found a small family of bunnies frolicking down by the fence—as only bunnies can! The fascinating part of this is that my house is in Metro Atlanta, in a neighborhood right next to a very busy street. Yes, sometimes the traffic drowns out the sounds of nature. But what I listen for is the community of nature surrounding me.
When I go hiking, although noise of commerce is sometimes a bother, I discover that it is important to focus on my surroundings; even there I find the gurgle of nearby South Fork Peachtree Creek, or the rustle of river canes. A blue Heron, making no noise, stands as if posing for Backcountry magazine . My grandfather often took us grandchildren on walks through woodland on his farm; he could find delicate purple-blossomed wild violets, and in the stream, ground puppies (Salamanders to the benighted among you).
I often hike with a friend, who readily recognizes flowers, leaves, and shrubs by name. Frequently I take pictures. We abide by the Boy Scout rule, “Leave no Trace;” take only pictures and memories. Such a habit leaves a heritage of joy and beauty for others who may go along this way. I think that someday, I’ll write about the legendary Johnny Appleseed. The words inJoni Mitchell’s song Big Yellow Taxi are not only haunting, but also foreboding:
So they paved paradise
Put up a parking lot
With a pink hotel, a boutique and a swingin’ night spot
Don’t it always seem to go
That you don’t know what you got ’til it’s gone
They paved paradise put up a parking lot
I try not to become a “Holier-than-thou” nature lover. Preserving nature has a symbiotic flavor to it, as it should. The Genesis version of the Creation story not only describes created nature, but also assigns responsibility for its care and preservation to us humans.
The wonder of Psalm 8 always captivates me with its magnificence of nature. It calls to us human beings to see, enjoy, appreciate, and enhance the handiwork of God. It is unfortunate that the term “Tree Hugger” became inserted into such conversations as this. It is a pejorative term, meant to disparage sincere environmentalists. To be sure, there are those who go to radical or extreme measures to make their point. But tending God’s magnificent creation is the responsibility of all humanity.
Just as we listen to what we are attuned to, so also we pay attention to what matters to us. Compared to the Universe, the Earth is a tiny habitat. It is the only habitat we will have. It is ours to care for, tend, and enjoy. I think I can hear God saying, “Ok, you children! Clean up that mess, or you won’t get any dinner!”
©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2022