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20 Mar 2001 Nature Leads, We Follow
What makes you awaken each morning? The aroma of brewing
coffee? The "bleet, bleet, bleet" of an alarm clock? Crying
children, barking dogs? Calm water and a bucket of bait? The gut-churning
stress of another workday? We stir wondering what nature has delivered. The first American Golden-Plovers drifting onto the Katy Prairie. A Black-chinned Hummingbird announcing its arrival at the salvia. The scent of mountain laurel as it closes after the night’s business. Nature is fickle, shifting, teasing, tempting. All that is static is illusion; nature is motion defined. Nature is all surprise. A frigid winter and nourishing spring rains have combined to entice the desert wildflowers in west Texas to "put on the show." The Chihuahuan Desert in Big Bend has been reappointed with blues, yellows, whites, and reds. Locals have been jawing about the display for weeks, and the word finally trickled east to Austin. Never ones to miss the show, we decided to wander to Lajitas to see this exhibit for ourselves. Spring break allowed us to gather the family and invade en masse. Near midnight, while driving through Big Bend National Park toward Lajitas, a continuous runner of bluebonnets along the shoulder placed blinders on the headlights. The ten-hour trek would not be in vain. For three days we scoured the west, celebrating one of those rare moments when nature and family reaffirmed their hold. A splotch of red along Pinto Canyon became a claret-cup cactus in sanguineous bloom. A yellow sea near Castolon became countless Fendler’s bladder pods skirting the Chisos Mountains. Bluebonnets weren’t just blue; these bonnets were indigo, azure, cobalt, ultramarine, lavender, or bone white. Birds and butterflies took a back seat to the spectacle of the moment, and never have we been so rewarded by redirecting our gaze to the ground. We offer no predictions about next spring, only what is here and now. Yet aren’t these vagaries precisely what lures us to nature? Doesn’t the immediacy of the moment grab you by the throat in a chokehold? An unfortunate phrase that originated among birders references a "bad day of birding." How could a day in nature, a day outdoors, ever be bad? If the birds are quiet, then shift your attention to butterflies. If the day is overcast and the butterflies are lethargic, then move on to wildflowers. If the flowers aren’t performing, then enjoy the snakes, lizards, and beetles. No day in nature is repeated if you are willing to look closely, broadly. Any day outdoors you are guaranteed something new, something novel, and something inspiring. Nature interpretation is the art of catching moonbeams. The formal curricula offered by most parks, sanctuaries, and nature centers are vain attempts to impose order and substance on the ethereal. We witnessed this misdirected effort in west Texas during our stay. Although bathed in an ocean of wildflowers, we found not one field trip or program devoted to their identification, photography, life history, or ecology. Rather than responding to the natural phenomenon of the moment (the heart of responsive interpretation), local interpreters, guides, and park staff continued with programs conceived months past (none of which focused on wildflowers). Visitors stumbled around with undecipherable field guides in their hands, struggling to tell one yellow compositae from the other. What might have been a transforming moment for the uninitiated, an epiphany, became an exercise in frustration (at best) or disengagement (at worst). Nature interpretation is like ballroom dancing. Where you glide on the dance floor depends on who is leading. In responsive interpretation nature leads, and the interpreter’s steps simply mirror those of their partner. Nature leads, we follow. Trip du Jour, March 20, 2001Nature Leads, We Follow by Ted Eubanks
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