Undisturbed Nature and the Destructive Hand of Man

Throughout the first few years of my life in Michigan, I frequented the surrounding natural world. Lucky enough to have a small, but private, woods behind my house and several pine forests within bike distance, I got to enjoy many short walks through the woods. I would frequently observe the local flora and fauna, climb trees, and discover what other travelers had left behind.

As these woods were surrounded by settlements, trash and various other human remains marked the territory. The occasional tree house, discarded lumber and nails, and bottles were left by careless people without a second thought. These people failed to consider that this trash would continue to sit and slowly decompose for many hundreds to thousands of years.

In addition, with “progress,” the surrounding blight continued to grow. In the neighborhood I lived in for around ten years, house after house was built, with any forest previously in a house’s place destroyed; a few more square acres of the natural world was  gone. It may never return to how it was, even if mankind were to suddenly vanish.

One such formerly natural lot I enjoyed was thick with pine trees. Salamanders were easily found under every other rock and fallen branch. This world was lost. I don’t remember seeing a single salamander within a few years following the construction of a house. This was just the beginning.

In the early years I explored my neighborhood, I also used to enjoy a small pond in the woods, just off a small side road. It was full of frogs, hopping away with haste on my approach, and their tadpole spawn within every few square inch. Taking in more, I could easily spotted small fish, dragonflies, grasshoppers, as well as an abundance of Michigan wildflowers and lily-pads. I would often try to catch a frog, rarely succeeding, and settle for a few grasshoppers instead. Just being a part of such activity was great. But, alas, as human development furthered, the land was privatized, cordoned off, and developed into yet another house in front of my beloved pond. I was never able to visit it again. It is likely drained and gone.

Within the first few years of my time in Michigan in the newly constructed neighborhood, proximal wildlife was common. Every summer I would see turtles crossing the street, birds, bats, and squirrels all over, and thousands of caterpillars crossing the walk paths and streets. In human’s collision with this natural world, which has existed long before man, thousands of caterpillars never became butterflies and instead were crushed under passing tires. In addition, many turtles never reached their destinations, blocked by what must appear to them to be mysterious and very large square growths and drained swampland. Untold numbers of potential insect and reptile progeny were lost. Worse yet, this neighborhood of mine was just one medium-sized development of a few hundred people. Extrapolated to the entire human population, it is clear why one of the greatest extinction events in history is ongoing. To end this destruction, a balance must be found and executed. We must learn to live in harmony with other life.

The Wonder of Wildlife Watching

I enjoy watching wildlife in its natural state. Deer passing through a field into a pine forest, a strange new bird landing outside of your window, turkeys crossing the street; these are a few examples of life living alongside ourselves, which I witnessed over the past summer. I was lucky enough to live in an area in Norton Shores, Michigan, surrounded by forests, beaches, open fields, and Lake Michigan.

Living day by day, I would often forget the simple joys of life. Many people go weeks or years without letting their minds wonder beyond human civilization. Throughout history, as technology developed, it seems we have slowly lost touch with the Earth which sustains us. In those little moments where you slam the brakes as fifteen deer bolt across the highway you are traveling on the way home after a long day, you may consider a new perspective. These moments when you encounter nature may even inspire you to venture out to your local park or beach.

The popularity of having a pet, maintaining a garden, or even keeping chickens may be a response to our ingrained desire to connect more deeply with our natural world. Nature lifts our spirit. Spending time outdoors, absorbing sun rays, hearing the ring of insects—spending time among simpler life away from flickering digital screens—has personally been one of the best ways I’ve found to make the most of a day and recharge my spirit. 

I find I am at my worst when most disconnected from this natural world, for example, if I spend day after day indoors, only seeing the sun when I reach the car and a destination. Simple taking a walk in the woods reminds me there is more to life than my desk.

My advice is to go outside and enjoy it and forget about your daily struggles when you can. Maybe you should start a garden, take your dog to the beach for a walk, or simply enjoy observing anything out there.

One summer day, “out there,” I walked the beach with my dog as I watched the sun slowly set. The wet sand crumbled under my feet. The tide gently flowed, carrying driftwood from unknown shores. How long has this mass of carbon been floating around? How much of it has been lost as it has decomposed over the years? Do some of its fragments drift hundreds of miles away or sit under thousands of feet of water? Where did the tree it belonged to grow? How long did it live and what life forms depended on it? Every plant or animal has a story. We are all connected with everyone and everything.

Living with these realizations, I may begin to think and act differently. What can I do to help? Maybe I could choose to live more sustainable. Consider what and how much waste results from the choices we make, and how much energy it takes to produce and transport these choices. Are heavy pesticides or chemicals used to produce what I eat or buy? Will these materials decompose in a reasonable amount of time or remain in a landfill for thousands of years? If we all begin to make better choices, we may make a better world for ourselves and our descendants. 

The Beauty of Lake Michigan

For more than half of my life I have lived within ten minutes of Lake Michigan. It has been a great source of relaxation, beauty, and awe.

The first summer in Michigan I spent several days at the beach in Grand Haven. Bright sand, rushing waves, and water as far as the eye can see, which is fourteen miles, took my breath away as an eleven year old boy. I had never seen anything like it before. I had just moved from Iowa, where I saw only small lakes.

The fall brought cooler temperatures and dangerous waves to Grand Haven State Park. One fall, when I was in middle school, several young men were swept off the pier and drowned. In response to the drowning, a mother of one of the sons and her concerned family petitioned to have a buoy station installed. The family also petitioned Grand Haven to institute a safety program. Both measures were adopted by the city. Though deadly dangerous, the fall scenery of Lake Michigan is beautiful, with dark, low clouds and high waves.

Winter brought the waves to a halt. Wave formations froze in place. You could climb solid blocks of water and walk over Lake Michigan before it got too deep and the ice began to loosen up. The ice formations were spectacular, but I felt a little bit of fear of it breaking and my plunging into the icy waters below.

As I was learning to drive at sixteen, I passed Lake Michigan many times. It brought some relaxation to a stressful situation. I did not catch on to driving easily. The lake and sky above it, rolling peacefully in summer sunlight, calmed my frazzled nerves. Whatever I was doing, the lake was always there, just how I left it.

I changed, but the lake remained the same. The lake has been there since the last ice age. Glaciers melted over what is now Lake Michigan 130,000 years ago. In geological time, a human life is like a second. It is awesome to consider what the lake has endured. Seven hundred ships have floundered and sunk in Lake Michigan since the 1600s. In Muskegon’s history, native forest lumber was taken across the unpredictable waters in ships to build Chicago’s skyscrapers. Now there are modern machines, such as motor boats and jet skis, skimming across the lake. It is the same lake, but a new population with more advanced technology dominates the surface, the ecological life, and resources within and about the lake.

The new technology poisons the lake with petroleum and other chemicals. These chemicals threaten to change the balanced ecosystem within the span of one geological second. This great lake and all of its benefits, for its own sake and the sake of all life on the planet, must be protected. The lake supports our shared existence on this planet by regulating temperature and providing rain. It also provides beauty and inspiration to generation after generation of lake watchers like me.

A Walk along the Grand River

Passing through downtown Grand Rapids, the Grand River created a nice contrast between the man-made city buildings, reaching many stories high, and the natural world. As I left my apartment, I faced the afternoon rush of traffic with horns honking and engines revving. I passed concrete building after building, until suddenly I reached a path winding about the river and over several bridges.

There was a gentle breeze. The carefully arranged flowers and reeds planted along the banks of the Grand River swayed along the clean cement path and fresh cut bright green grass. I was a reminder that I was not truly away from the hand of man. People had planted the foliage in carefully arranged patterns. There was still a little natural disorder in the plants in late summer. Green shoots were turning maroon and wilting.

Seagulls screeched above the rushing river. The birds were scanning the waters for fish, like the many fisherman poised on the bridge with their poles and a trunk full of fishing gear. As I walked over the Pearl Street Bridge, I spotted rock formations crafted by people: a peace sign and a smiley face. Seagulls used these man-made formations as a perch to help their scavenging for fish.

As I looped around the city, back toward the path, I spotted a cluster of insect nests across from TGI Friday’s. Their nests looked like half-pea size circles of foam surrounding single pine needles. Some of the foam stuck to my fingers as I touched it.

Leaving the insects alone, I continued and looped back across another bridge toward the fish ladder. It was full of carp, some of which appeared to be several feet long. These big bottom-feeders were surfacing in hopes of getting food from passing travelers on shore. These fish may have lived in the city their entire lives. They grew and thrived here, even though there’s trash scattered about and the water may be poisoned from urban runoff. Carp are resilient fish.

Mallard ducks have also adapted well to city life. On the banks of the Grand River, these colorful “quackers” were resting under the Pearl Street Bridge as semis drove across and rattled the buttresses. The ducks blissfully ignored the racket and enjoyed their day on a mound of sand under the bridge. Pairs of colorful males and brown females rested together.

The walk around the Grand River provided me with a view of artificial, man-made and natural, plant and wildlife sites. This walk about the river made me consider how man and nature can co-exist in balance. The plants and animals can survive with some interference from people, as long as it’s not totally destructive. Cities should be designed around balance with nature, because nature can restore our spirits.