- Book about my grandpa's adventures as a young man in New Zealand
- Water bottle
- Hat
- Levi's belt
- Laptop
- Well-worn Toms
- Favorite shirt
- Ivory box from NZ
- Favorite mug
- Pocketknives
- Necklace from a special someone
- iPod
- ring
I've come to the realization as of late that much of the world's problems can be explained in biological and ecological terms. For me, these parallels are re-affirmed the notion that we as human beings are still innately and inextricably a part of nature. We are as natural as anything else in this world. Hard to believe, I know. But just take a minute to think about some of this:
The variety of cultures and indigenous peoples on Earth can be likened to the concept of species richness, which is simply the number of different species in a given system. Since the globalization of our world, the number of unique cultures has precipitously declined (along with actual species richness). Diversity, after all, is largely predicated on isolation. Speciation, or the development of new species, is a result of adaptation to unique habitat pressures. A delicate balance is struck, in tune with a species's (or culture's) specific niche. The introduction of Western culture, then, disturbs this balance with the introduction of disease, new tools, new ideas etc. This Western force homogenizes these indigenous populations, decreasing their overall occurrence in nature. It's like planting the same grass on every continent rather than having native species perfectly suited to climatic conditions (just look what happened to the American prairie lands, replaced by corn mono-crops). The 'developed world' is thus destroying our world's cultural richness. Biodiversity, however, is nature's primary means of enduring unforeseen catastrophes. There could never have been a potato famine in indigenous South America because of the thousands of varieties, each with its own strengths and weaknesses, immunities and vulnerabilities. The health and continuance of life, essentially, is predicated upon variability. Thus you can see why a global cultural and economic hegemony like the United States is simply bad science.
To continue the comparisons, the U.S. can be labeled a 'generalist predator.' This means a predator that can subsist on a whole host of different resources, and has no specific diet (unlike Koalas which only eat Eucalyptus). This then stands in contrast to the indigenous cultures that are effectively 'specialist predators'. Their diets are determined by their regional limitations and tribal knowledge. Their continued survival depends on the continued availability of certain local resources. Unfortunately, the U.S. and the developed world at large has begun to prey upon this cultures, eating them up one by one. Because of its generalist diet, the Western world's survival is not endangered by the disappearance of these local communities. It's the basic biological principle that a generalist predator can drive its prey exist while a specialist predator does not, else it kills itself off.
I've been using the term 'culture' very loosely here of course. It encompasses all kinds of things like language, food, knowledge of the local flora and fauna, histories and so on. The lose of these resources leaves us all the more vulnerable to the ravages of mother nature. A great deal of our present 'civilized' knowledge was gleaned or appropriated from native peoples. We need them. But with our increasingly globalized world, we're destroying our most valuable resources. It's all island biogeography and intermediate disturbance theory when it comes down to it. We're creating new climax communities, forever altering the biological and ecological landscape of the Earth. Soon enough we're going to run out of new genetic material (or cultural material) to adapt to forthcoming challenges as a species.
And I'm sorry if this post comes across as rather confused and haphazard. It probably contains a few jumps in logic. I was just very excited about making some of these connections. And perhaps they only make sense in my head. The main point is there though, that the human species and its relationship to itself is governed by the same ecological principles that we use to understand plants and animals. This should remind us then that we irrefutably a part of nature and that perhaps our actions are not so unique after all. We simply manifest the same principles of resource competition, colonization, predation etc. in a different fashion.
So the other day I hopped in the minivan of a friend of a friend's dad's friend who lives here in Walla (confusing I know). We then proceeded to drive about 15 minutes east to a tiny collection of homes called Dixie. In this po-dunk town, however, exists a marvel of amateur naturalism.
Tom Lamb, an ancient and now decaying old man, has been feeding hummingbirds around his home for 11 years. What started out as an extra feeder as a compromise for two competing hummingbirds blossomed into a splendid array of countless birdfeeders. Sprouting from trees, gutter sidings, fenceposts and so on, the Lamb property is awash in a sea of scarlet sugar-water.
The birds of course increased exponentially with this fantastic food source. In fact, Dixie has become such a significant feeding station for the bids that it is now a part of their migratory vectors. Literal clouds of these amazingly agile little creatures descend at the first hints of Spring.
And what does Tom Lamb do? He sits and watches. The flashes of iridescent color boldly shooting around the yard. Purples, oranges, reds and greens flitting by with equal speed. It is truly quite a sight. Which is why the home of Tom Lamb has become a tourist attraction of sorts. The only free for which is a bit of good old fashioned conversation with the proprietor. He lives for the comfort of the birds and passersby since the loss of his wife.
Even with his faltering physical state, Tom remains startlingly knowledgeable about his seasonal guests. As I tossed penny questions into this cavernous well of experience, I was reminded of a few things Aldo Leopold wrote in his Essays from Round River.
A hobby should be useless. The more useless the better. If, perchance, one's hobby is natural history, they may inadvertently produce something worthwhile. Amateurs become experts in their lives' constant diversions. Tom, for example, is an expert on all things that hum and dart. As a testament to this, U.S. Wildlife officials have utilized Tom's hummingbird metropolis as a research station, capturing and banding a great many of them. Some of which ended up as far south as Mexico in the Winter.
And basically, I thought all of this was simply too bizarre and unique not to share. It was certainly a surreal personal experience for me. And it carried interesting resonances with some of my leisure reading of Mr. Leopold.
So find yourself a hobby. Who knows what may come of it.
