Natural World Legacy

Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary defines legacy as: "something received from an ancestor or predecessor or from the past." The term legacy may seem an odd word when we talk about the natural world. After all, isn't the natural world still here?

But is it really? I am talking about something different than the loss of biological diversity that Iowa has suffered, or the loss of prairie and woodland habitats. I think there is a real separation from nature that "progress" forces on us. This separation is not good. We lose so much of the magic of our lives when we separate ourselves from nature.

Do you remember the first time you saw a firefly? For those of us who grew up in the Midwest it went something like this:

You see the short flash of light. It is something you haven’t seen before. You run towards where you saw it. Your heart is pounding. You see more flashes. There is a dark silhouette against the not-quite-dark sky. If you reach high enough you might be able to catch it. No. You reach again. Still no. Finally you make contact with this unusual creature. It feels kind of tickly when you catch it. You hold it tightly in your cupped hand, all the while feeling a kind of fear and excitement and joy all at the same time. You open your hands just enough and it crawls out. It feels funny as it crawls out. Suddenly it flashes—just the coolest thing ever. Then while you try to keep it in your hand it slips away. Your heart drops as it flies off.

How about when you see a butterfly for the first time? You may react with fear the first time you see it but soon you are over that. You have never seen something so beautiful. Once again you try to catch it, but you can’t. Butterflies are so much harder to catch than fireflies. It takes weeks before you figure out that you need to slowly sneak up on a butterfly that is getting nectar from a flower and ever so slowly move your hand closer and closer even though your heart is racing and move in closer holding your breath then finally close your fingers on the struggling butterfly. It feels so soft and powdery when you hold it. When you finally let it go you have part of its color on its fingers.

Have you heard the birds or frogs or insects sing lately? Have you looked up at a dark sky lately? Have you walked in the woods when there was snow on the ground?

We who have spent a major part of our youth outside have had thousands of interactions with insects and the other small creatures we now take for granted. Some have been very emotional and some have seemed to not affect us in the least. But all of those interactions have affected us and made us what we are today.

Society’s progress has moved us away from the natural world. Our children now spend more time indoors than ever before. Our lawns are more closely cropped than our parents’ yards were. Weeds are controlled more. The children in our cities are less able to wander around aimlessly through areas that do not have sidewalks. More effective pesticides are used to rid the neighborhoods of unwanted insects. And the videogames and televisions compete for our children’s attention better than living things do.

Are people who do not spend significant time in nature somehow less fulfilled than those who do? Are they diminished in some way? I think that they are.

Fortunately, it is possible to reconnect people with nature. Then maybe we can appreciate the legacy.