Tag: nature

A Good Turn for Terns

  • Researcher Lee Harper bands a common tern. Photo by David Sommerstein.

The common tern is a bird best known for its graceful flight and dramatic dives. Over the past 50 years, its best nesting habitat in the Great Lakes has been taken over by more aggressive birds, like gulls, cormorants, and osprey. Today, common terns are a threatened species in New York and Minnesota, and monitored carefully in other states. A couple years ago, a biologist and some volunteers used gravel and navigational buoys on the St. Lawrence River to create artificial nesting habitats for the terns. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s David Sommerstein reports on the experiment’s progress:

Transcript

The Common Tern is a bird best known for its graceful flight and dramatic dives. Over the
past 50 years, its best nesting habitat in the Great Lakes has been taken over by more
aggressive birds, like gulls, cormorants, and osprey. Today, common terns are a
threatened species in New York and Minnesota, and monitored carefully in other states. A
couple years ago, a biologist and some volunteers used gravel and navigational buoys on
the St. Lawrence River to create artificial nesting habitats for the terns. The Great Lakes
Radio Consortium’s David Sommerstein reports on the experiment’s progress:


The St. Lawrence isn’t just a river – it’s a seaway – an aquatic interstate for ocean freighters rumbling into the Great Lakes. So it’s not strange.


I’m in a boat floating just upstream from one of the river’s highway signs, a seaway
navigation marker.


We’re not talking about a plastic buoy – it’s a fixed concrete column rising 8 feet above the
water. Its platform is big enough that you can walk around on it. On top, a tall steel tower holds a red light and signs that serve as channel markers for the seaway traffic. But for the conservationists I’m tagging along with, this is bird habitat. We sit in silence and listen to the call of the Common Tern.


(tern squawking in the clear)


Dozens of small white birds with pointy wings and black caps swoop above our heads.
They soar, suspended, then suddenly dive into the water. Their orange beaks snap at
minnows just below the surface, then they shoot back up into the air.


(more squawks)


This particular colony was formerly the largest and most productive Common Tern
colony on the entire lower Great Lakes.


Biologist Lee Harper is known as “the tern guy” in this part of the Great Lakes. He’s
tagged thousands of them and recorded them as far away as Brazil. He documented the
common tern’s dramatic decline over the past twenty years. Gull and osprey populations
exploded, displacing the more sensitive terns from their nesting sites. But today Harper
peers through binoculars and grins.


“The terns we’re seeing here today represent the first nests on this site in almost ten
years.”


Terns don’t need much to nest, just a dry, isolated spot near water. Harper noticed the
refugee terns were retreating to navigation markers like this one. They’d lay eggs on its
concrete platform. The problem was the eggs would roll around and the birds would abandon
them. So Harper enlisted volunteers to lug 5 tons of gravel out here. They spread it on the
platform so the terns would lay their eggs on top of the gravel and the eggs wouldn’t roll.
Suzie Wood was among them.


“The first time I saw it, it was a piece of concrete and I frankly thought that Lee was a
little bit cracked when I heard about it.”


That was two summers ago. Today’s the first day the volunteers have returned. They’re
going to count nests and eggs to see how the gravel is working.


(motor sound, then clanking and action sound as we tie up)


We inch the boat up to the marker and huddle under the canvas top in case the birds dive-
bomb our approach. Then we tie up to an iron ladder that leads up to the concrete
platform. One by one, we climb the ladder and peer over the platform’s rim.


“Wow, this is a beautiful nest right here.”


Lee Harper is right behind and he’s beaming.


“After ten years of no terns here, this is really a wonderful sound!”


Almost invisible amongst the gravel and weeds are clusters of brown spotted eggs. We
walk on tip toe, look before every step, careful not to crush a nest. Harper works quickly
to minimize the disturbance. He calls out the number of eggs he sees. A volunteer takes
notes on a clipboard.


(counting)


Harper was here two weeks ago and counted 18 nests. Today there are 40 common tern
nests. Volunteer David Duff is impressed.


“It was just such a simple thing to do. I mean, a hundred twenty dollars worth of gravel
and a two or three hours and half a dozen people helping with five gallon buckets of gravel
and I think we have a victory, at least a preliminary victory.”


The gravel nests are starting to catch on. The St. Lawrence Seaway Development
Corporation is spreading gravel on navigation markers all along the Seaway. Groups in
Michigan are planning similar restoration efforts, using dredging spoils from the St. Mary’s
River. They’re man-made solutions, but ones that just might restore the Common Tern
population to health in the Great Lakes.


For the Great Lakes Radio Consortium, I’m David Sommerstein.

Low-Impact Trekking With Llamas

  • "Streak" heads to the trail.

For over 4,000 years, llamas have been used to carry loads through rough mountain terrain. Out West, it’s not uncommon to see llamas carrying tents, sleeping bags, and food for hikers. In the Great Lakes region, llamas are still an unusual sight on the trail, but an increasing number of people are starting to go trekking with them. They’re agile, surefooted, and tread lightly on the earth. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Tamar Charney reports:

Transcript

For over 4,000 years llamas have been used to carry loads through rough mountain
terrain. Out West it’s not uncommon to see llamas carrying tents, sleeping bags, and food
for hikers. In the Great Lakes region, llamas are still an unusual sight on the trail, but an
increasing number of people are starting to go trekking with them. They’re agile,
surefooted, and tread lightly on the earth. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Tamar
Charney reports:


(leaf noise) (walking)


“This is pretty, the lake out here.”


Cheryl Topliff is leading her llama named Streak through the woods at Seven Lakes State
Park in Michigan. Streak is mostly black except for his feet, his face, and the front of his
neck


“And he’s got curly locks on the top of his head – he’s cute.”


And he’s a bit unusual; he’s a talker.


(llama noises)


“I’m getting a fully narrated tour.”


Cheryl Topliff originally got Streak because of his long wooly hair. She’s a fiber artist
and weaves with llama fur. But recently she and her husband got interested in hiking
with their llamas.


“For me personally, it is just getting outdoors on a nice fall day and getting some exercise and
walking, plus the comradery of the other llama people.”


Streak sets the pace for a group of hikers and their llamas. They wander through
meadows full of flowers. They find their way through deep wooded groves. And
trudge up and down hills.


He does like to walk and he likes to be out in front of the whole group.


But today’s trek isn’t for fun. Streak is working on getting certified as
a pack llama – that’s a llama that has been tested to make sure it’s trained
to carry loads and behave well in the backcountry. That means they go
where they’re led and don’t spit or kick.


Dave Foy is with the Pack Llama Association. It’s his job to make sure Streak and the
rest of the llamas are properly tested.


“Not every llama is a pack llama and people have a tendency to think so because that’s
what they’ve really been bred for but some of them don’t like it so a pack trial will put
through a regime of obstacles and trials.”


Such as jumping logs, crossing bridges, and walking through muddy streams.


“Now try to enter that water as close to the flag as possible. We want to make sure he
gets his feet wet.”


Cheryl Topliff’s husband, Don, goes first with a llama named Standing Ovation.


“It’s very shallow. Step over.”


But Standing Ovation wants nothing to do with the water. He hesitates, (“come on”)
(squish), slowly walks in (splash), and then suddenly lunges and jumps to the bank
(splash).


“That’s enough.”


It cost him. Standing Ovation loses points for bad behavior.


(splash)


Streak goes next. He crosses the water with out a hitch, and continues on down
the trail.


(amb of hiking)


(woof woof)


“Wow, I’ve never seen a llama up close.”


(woof)


“Hey, hey, quiet, nice guys.”


Streak and the rest of the llamas are an unusual site in the woods, so people out trekking
with llamas often have to stop to answer questions about what they’re doing. Margaret
Van Camp organized today’s pack trials. She says llamas seem to have gotten a bad
reputation.


“People who don’t have llamas don’t have a positive impression of llamas. They always
think they spit and they think you can’t ride them. What are they good for? But then they
see you doing this and they realize you can have a lot of fun with them.”


“Wow! Look at the pretty llamas.”


(woof woof)


Margaret Van Camp says the nice thing about llamas is that they find their own food,
don’t need much water since they are related to camels, and they don’t damage trails like
horses, mules, and bicycles.


“So that’s why llamas are so nice – because they’re so enviro-friendly they make it easy
to carry more with no more impact on the environment than you – probably less than you
with your hiking boots.”


That’s because llama’s have padded feet like a dog, not hooves which is why on federal
land, llamas are allowed on trails that are closed to horses. And that’s one reason llama
trekking is growing in popularity.


“All right, if you can come one at a time. This is a kicker hill. Next llama. He’s rearing
to go. He’s revving his engines.”


(llama noises)


“We’re going mountain climbing. You ready for this big boy? (llama noises) Good.”


By the end of the hike, Streak has negotiated all the obstacles and passed all his tests.


(amb: trailer door)


Cheryl Topliff loads him in the trailer and heads for home with damp feet, a muddy
husband, and a couple llamas ready for their next adventure in the woods.


For the Great Lakes Radio Consortium, I’m Tamar Charney.

GAUGING MANKIND’S ECOLOGICAL FOOTPRINT

In the wake of the World Summit on Sustainable Development in Johannesburg, South Africa, there’s been a lot of talk about how to balance human needs with the health of the planet. Ecologists have been trying to measure the impact of humans on the environment for a number of years, with some sobering results. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Daniel Grossman went to the New York Botanical Garden recently to gauge mankind’s ecological footprint:

Transcript

In the wake of the World Summit on Sustainable Development in Johannesburg, South
Africa, there’s been a lot of talk about how to balance human needs with the health of the
planet. Ecologists have been trying to measure the impact of humans on the environment
for a number of years, with some sobering results. The Great Lake Radio Consortium’s Daniel Grossman went to the New
York Botanical Garden recently to gauge mankind’s ecological footprint.


[Rain forest sounds, misters, tinkling of water, rain falling on leaves]


To get a good sense of the impact humans are having on earth, you could travel for weeks
on intercontinental plane flights, river boats and desert jeeps. Or, as Columbia University
biologist, Stuart Pimm suggested, visit a botanical garden. There, under the glass and
ironwork of a conservatory, Pimm says you can see a resource that humans are
over-using – Earth’s most important resource, its plant-life.


“We’re sitting in the rain forest here at the New York Botanical Society. And it’s a riot of
green.”


Professor Pimm says here beneath the misters in the Tropical Rain Forest Gallery is a
good place to start a whirlwind tour of Earth’s greenery. The air is heavy with moisture
and sweet-smelling.


“Rain forests are some of the most productive parts of the planet. They grow extremely
quickly and they are therefore generating a lot of biological production.”


What Pimm calls biological production most of us know as plant growth. Biologists say
all this green growth in tropical forests and elsewhere on Earth is the foundation upon
which all life rests.


“Everything in our lives is dependent upon biological productivity – everything that we
eat, everything that our domestic animals eat.”


And everything that every other animal eats as well. In a recent book, Pimm painstakingly
tallies up how much biological productivity we use. He starts with the rain forest. In the
last 50 years, loggers and settlers have cut down 3 million square miles of lush tropical
forests. Much was cut down for subsistence agriculture, a purpose Pimm says it serves
poorly.


“Although the tropical forest looks rich and productive, it is a very special place. And
when you chop that forest down the areas that replace it often become very, very much
less productive.”


[Sound of walking around conservatory]


Pimm speaks of the toll on greenery of cities and roads and of land converted to farming
in temperate regions such as the U.S. Midwest. Then, trekking along the botanical
garden’s gravel paths, he leaves behind the tropical mists and steps into the dry heat of a
Southwestern desert. Deserts and other dry lands are not very productive, but they
account for a substantial fraction of Earth’s land surface. Most of it is grazed by flocks of
sheep, goats, camels and cattle, often causing severe damage to vegetation. When these
uses are added to the other impacts of humanity on earth’s bounty, the results are
surprisingly large.


“What silence has shown is that we are taking 2/5ths of the biological production on land,
a third from the oceans. And that of the world’s fresh water supply, we’re taking half.”


[Fade out sound of conservatory. Fade up sound of Texas frogs.]


[Sound of plane engines]


Frogs and toads croak out a spring mating ritual in a concrete drainage ditch. Nearby, a
pilot practices maneuvers in a small plane occasionally drowning out the amphibian
serenade. Living in culverts, sharing the night with droning engines, these wild animals
are never completely free of human influences. From his Stanford University office,
Professor Peter Vitousek says wherever you look, the din of human activities is
interrupting and crowding out other species. Vitousek made one of the first attempts to
tally the impact of people on plant productivity in 1985.


[Frogs fade out in time for Vitousek’s act]


“The message to me was that we are already having a huge impact on all the other species
because of our use of the production of Earth and the land surface of Earth. That’s not
something that our models predict for some time in the future or something that we’re
guessing at on the basis of fairly weak information. It’s something that we’re clearly
doing now. That’s already happening.”


Many ecologists say this conclusion is beyond doubt. What they can’t say is whether
human domination of so much of nature’s output is good or bad. University of Minnesota
Professor David Tilman says as a member of the human race himself, he appreciates the
comforts in clothing, shelter and food our lifestyles buy us. And he acknowledges that the
survival of our own species is probably not imperiled – at least for the moment – by the
destruction of others. Still, he wonders if someday we’ll regret today’s resource intensive
practices.


“I think the more relevant question to me is, ‘Are we doing this wisely?’ ‘Are we wisely
appropriating the resources of the world?’ So, my concern is that we live in a balanced
way – a way that is sustainable through generations – that we leave our children and
grandchildren the same kind of world that we have.”


An expert on the impacts of agriculture, Tilman says we’re using up more resources than
can be replaced. He says if we don’t grapple with these important issues now, by the time
the human population reaches eight to ten billion or so people later this century, it might
be too difficult for us to do enough to save the planet’s life as we know it today.


For the Great Lakes Radio Consortium, I’m Daniel Grossman.

Earthworms Alter Forest Ecology

Most of us think of earthworms as beneficial creatures. Gardeners are always happy to spot a worm in the flowerbed because they add fertilizer to the soil. Many anglers say they’re the best thing for catching fish. But scientists are beginning to learn worms aren’t so friendly to Great Lakes forests. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Stephanie Hemphill reports:

Transcript

Most of us think of earthworms as beneficial creatures. Gardeners are always happy to spot a
worm in the flowerbed because they add fertilizer to the soil. And many anglers say they’re the
best thing for catching fish. But scientists are beginning to learn worms aren’t so friendly to
Great Lakes forests. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Stephanie Hemphill reports.


(fade up Girl Scouts)


This Girl Scout troop is learning about worms. Judy Gibbs is a naturalist at the Hartley Nature
Center in Duluth. She shows the girls how to coax worms out of the soil. They pour water laced
with powdered mustard into the worms’ burrows.


It irritates the worms and they come squiggling up by the hundreds.


“Pour it in. Wait a minute. Here it comes. It doesn’t like the mustard and it comes right up.
Look at this one (laughter). oh, there’s another one. Look at it go!” (shrieks)


On their walk through the woods, the girls look for dead leaves. There aren’t many. Judy Gibbs
explains why.


“Here’s a leaf stem that’s being pulled into this hole. Who’s doing this? Ants! No. Worms.
There’s big night crawlers. You know what a night crawler is? They grow straight down into the
ground, and they come up at night and pull leaves down into their burrows. And they eat the leaf
right off. That’s why we’re not finding any leaves.”


Worms eating leaves might seem natural, but it turns out these worms aren’t native to these
woods. The last glacier buried most of what is now the Great Lakes region. When it melted,
plants and animals returned to create a community of maples, pines, songbirds, and tender plants
growing on the forest floor, like trillium…but not earthworms.


Cindy Hale is a biologist who studies the native wildflowers that grow in northern hardwood
forests. She loves the spring bloomers that take root in the spongy layer of decaying leaves on
the forest floor. Trillium, bloodroot, solomon’s seal.


Hale says many of these plants are disappearing.


“Sites that forty years ago were carpets of trillium have been slowly over the last two decades
declining to almost nothing, and people were scratching their heads, trying to figure out just
what’s going on.”


Earthworm populations are thickest close to cities. But Hale says people bring worms with them
when they come to the woods.


At first, settlers carried them in, along with the animals and plants they brought from Europe or
the east coast. These days, worms are spread by people who drive in the woods – loggers, ATV
riders…


“But in particular, fishing bait is a huge way that worms get moved around in our region.
Because there’s so many lakes and so much fishing.”


Hale and her colleagues set up test plots along an advancing line of worms in the Chippewa
National Forest in central Minnesota. The worms crawl about three yards further into the forest
each year. Hale is studying how the soil and the plants have changed as the worms advance.


Worms eat the decaying leaves on the forest floor. They mix that organic matter into the mineral
soil beneath it. And in time, they can use up all the organic matter and leave only mineral soil
behind.


That means the plants that have evolved to take root in the leaves on top of the soil have lost their
home.


Hale says these changes could affect every plant and animal that lives in the woods. She says,
for instance, even birds have declined by nearly 50% in the last fourteen years.


“Because ovenbirds nest in that forest floor, so if you lose the forest floor, then you may well
affect ground-nesting birds such as that. So when you start thinking about it, the potential
ramifications across the ecosystem get really wild.”


Hale says one of the big challenges in studying this problem is that there’s been very little basic
research – like how many worms are there are and where.


To gather more information and to get more people involved, Hale created a web-based learning
program. She’s asking teachers from around the country to have their classes do worm counts
and other research. Hale plans to add their data to the web page.


In Minnesota, the Department of Natural Resources is working with interest groups to try to slow
the spread of worms. Next year’s fishing regulations will include instructions not to dump your
worms at the end of a day of fishing.


For the Great Lakes Radio Consortium, I’m Stephanie Hemphill in Duluth.

Carrying the River Within Us

We don’t have to travel far to experience nature. Many of us have special places that connect us to the natural world. Great Lakes Radio Consortium commentator Bob Hamma reflects on the lasting impact those places can have on us:

Transcript

We don’t have to travel far to experience nature. We all have special places that connect us to the natural world. Great Lakes Radio Consortium commentator Bob Hamma reflects on the lasting impact those places can have on us:


One day in early September, my son and I rented a canoe and took a trip down the St. Joseph River where it crosses from Indiana into Michigan. The cloudless sky was a rich, deep blue and the light breeze created just a soft ripple on the river’s surface. Young turtles sunning themselves on logs plopped in the water as we glided by. We spied an occasional blue heron perched on the bank and a few swans moving gracefully through a pool.


The river was surprisingly empty of human presence. There were a few boys fishing under a highway bridge and a single pontoon boat. But they did not rob us of the sense that the river was ours, that on this river so close to home, there was a quiet, peaceful world without the pressures and demands of our everyday life. I like to remember that day, not only for its quiet beauty, but to create a peaceful space within myself. I want to carry that day, that river, within me.


I close my eyes and I am there. The river becomes part of me and part of the bond between my son Peter and me. It flows through my mind, carving a path through my psyche, laying bare the texture of memory. I travel upstream and remember the joys and sorrows that have formed the course of my life. I am carried downstream as I recall the people, places, and things that I cherish, moving always toward the great sea to which every river flows.


As the river becomes a part of me, I sense my life as a whole rather than as scattered fragments. There is a peaceful center, which I need only take the time to connect with. I know that just like this river I come from somewhere and am going somewhere; that I am a part of something greater; that I belong to people and to places.


When you are bruised or troubled, go to that place where you connect deeply with nature. Go to that river, that woodland, that mountain. Let the river carry you, the forest shelter you, the mountain bear you up. Close your eyes and go to that place which is for you a source of life.


Host Tag: Bob Hamma is a writer who lives in South Bend, Indiana.

Land Trusts Save Local Land

Winston Churchill once said, “Americans will always do the right thing – after they’ve exhausted all the alternatives.” For Great Lakes Radio Consortium commentator Tom Springer, Churchill’s wisdom could also apply to land trusts. After decades of rampant sprawl, more Americans are joining land trusts to protect what’s left of the natural areas around them:

Transcript

Winston Churchill once said, “Americans will always do the right thing — after they’ve exhausted
all the alternatives.” For Great Lakes Radio Consortium commentator Tom Springer, Churchill’s
wisdom could also apply to land trusts. After decades of rampant sprawl, more Americans are
joining land trusts to protect what’s left of the natural areas around them:

Like many people who love nature, it’s always been my dream to save wild land from development. When I was younger, it seemed like an easy thing to do. I planned to graduate from college, earn serious money, and spend most of my income buying rural real estate. Unfortunately, the big salary never materialized. After five years, I had bought just one piece of property: a three-acre parcel of woods that can only be reached by canoe.

Since going solo didn’t work, I decided to join a national organization that’s famous for saving wild land. With my annual dues, I got a static window sticker and a gorgeous magazine that featured the group’s newest preserves. But after a few years, the vicarious thrill of sending money to save far-off places started to fade. I really wanted to protect land that was close to home. Yet for this organization, my corner of southern Michigan wasn’t even on the map.

At long last, I have found a better way to stave off the bulldozers. Along with 1,000 local citizens, I’m an active member of a land trust. Land trusts are nonprofit organizations that work with private property owners to save natural areas from development. Sometimes they buy land to create preserves. They also accept donated land, and establish conservation easements to prevent future development.

In the past decade, the land trust movement has seen phenomenal growth. There are 1,300 land trusts nationwide, a number that’s more than doubled since 1990. Together, they protect 6.4 million acres — up 220 percent since 1990.

So why are land truth trusts so successful? I believe it’s because their mission is unabashedly local. They’re not preoccupied with Chinese panda bears, or holes in the Arctic ozone layer. They’d rather rescue the 100-acre woods down the road. Or protect a suburban stream that’s the last neighborhood refuge for tadpoles and snapping turtles.

In our capitalistic system, land is a commodity. Yet land trusts use the free-market to their advantage by purchasing land to prevent development. So this business-like approach also appeals to conservatives and moderates who may not otherwise support environmental causes.

Yet another appeal of land trusts is their hands-on, dirty-fingernails approach to conservation. There’s always much more for members to do than just stick a check in the mail. Land trusts rely almost solely on volunteers to maintain trails, conduct field surveys, or stuff envelopes around the office.

A few weeks ago, my land trust hosted a workday at a five-acre preserve that’s a mile from my home. For three hours, I joined a happy band of retirees, college kids, and recovering yuppies as they uprooted Japanese honeysuckle that threatens to crowd out native wildflowers.

This preserve is too small for any government agency to bother with. Yet we know it as a pocket wilderness, where cardinal flowers and bluebells bloom in the rich soil of a floodplain forest. Maybe it’s not one of the world’s last great places. But it’s our place — and it’s our land trust. And if we want to save the natural world, our own neighborhood is always a good place to start.

Host Tag: Tom Springer is a freelance writer
from Three Rivers, Michigan.

Life Without Boundaries

The events of September 11th have many U.S. residents regarding our boundaries with more fervency. Great Lakes Radio Consortium commentator Terry Link wonders if it’s time that we stop and reflect on the nature of the boundaries in our lives. Perhaps as he suggests, it’s time to reconsider those boundaries from a new perspective:

Transcript

The events of September 11th have
many U.S. residents regarding our boundaries with more fervency. Great
Lakes Radio Consortium commentator Terry Link wonders if it’s time that we
stop and reflect on the nature of the boundaries in our lives. Perhaps as
he suggests, it’s time to reconsider those boundaries from a new
perspective:

I live in a mid-Michigan rural
township. You know, the brainchild of the Ordinance of 1785, which
outlined the development of this region by creating six-by-six square mile
boxes for townships. Despite its relatively sparse population, our little
township is carved up into 4 school districts. The boundaries are
irregular in shape. Just a mile to my east is a county line. My kids
attend a school in that county. My next-door neighbor’s children attend a
school in our county. Our state and national boundaries have interesting
stories as well. Like these, most of the boundaries that separate us are
human creations.

The events of September 11th have
many of our citizens focusing on boundaries – national, ethnic, religious,
political, and more. We distinguish between those who live on the other
side of the boundaries as being somehow separate or different from us. We
rally around symbols of those boundaries – our flag, our national anthem,
our church, and so forth. But I think you would agree that it would be
silly for me to consider my next door neighbor who happens to reside in a
different school district as “different” from me simply because he’s
across an arbitrary boundary? Or think that kids who live in the adjacent
county who nevertheless go to the same school as mine are as a result,
“different” than my own.

Nature’s boundaries are much more
seamless. Some birds migrate seasonally from one continent to another.
Monarch butterflies that grace our backyards during summer, retreat to
Mexico for the winter. The air that I am breathing as I speak to you will
travel the world and be breathed in by plants and animals and other
humans, perhaps in Pittsburgh or Paris, undergoing numerous chemical
transformations along the way. The hydrologic cycle that keeps us alive
moves water from the Great Lakes around the world – flowing into the
Atlantic Ocean or evaporating into the atmosphere to be part of rain in
North Carolina or Quebec. How could we think for a moment that we are
separate from nature?

I believe we spend way too much
of our psychic energy focusing on what sets us apart from each other, what
makes us different. We use artificial boundaries to separate “us” from
“them,” “I” from “Thou.”

We need to learn from nature. If
you look at the pictures of earth from outer space you notice this
beautiful blue sphere. It provides us life; in fact it is teeming with
life. We can’t see boundaries between us from that distance. We see a
system of life that is connected and interrelated. In fact it’s dependent,
wholly dependent, upon relationships.

When we can begin to look at all
of us humans as being interrelated with the rest of the biosphere that
provides us with air to breathe, water to give us life, and food to
nourish our development, perhaps we can dissolve the artificial boundaries
that divide us from each other.

Maybe if we could see that we are
not separate from nature, but part of it, then we will learn to treat our
home with more affection. And maybe, just maybe that affection can spread
from human to human, with less reliance on violence, and more on empathy
and compassion. Maybe it’s time to rally around the earth flag, that
honors the home we all share.


Host Tag: Terry Link is Director of the Office
of Campus Sustainability at Michigan State University.

Appreciating the Night Sky


The invention of electric lights at the end of the 19th Century ended the ancient tyranny of darkness over our lives. Turning on the lights at night has allowed us to make every hour count. But while nighttime lighting has given us unprecedented security and uncountable opportunities, we may be reaching the point where we have too much of a good thing. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Ed Janus reports on two people involved in an international effort to turn the lights down a little and take back the night:

ZOOS SET STAGE FOR WILDNESS (Part 1)

  • Today's zoo exhibits attempt to immerse visitors in the scene while also enriching the animals' lives. Some zoos are criticized for emphasizing appearances instead of the animals' well-being.

Zoos across the nation are putting their animals in more natural settings instead of cages. For some zoos, it’s done to make the animals’ lives a little more comfortable. But for others, it’s simply done to draw more people rather than to give the animals a better place to live. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Lester Graham has the details in the first of a two-part series:

CONSTRUCTING NATURAL HABITATS (Part 2)

  • This grizzly at the St Louis Zoo is displayed in an exhibit that mimics its natural habitat. A whole industry has emerged to manufacture these exhibits.

At your local zoo – if you can suspend disbelief for a moment – you might find yourself in the middle of a tropical rainforest. Or a dusty African plain, watching the animals in their natural habitat. Of course, those wild settings are merely a façade. Clever construction techniques covering up concrete cages. In the second of a two-part series, the Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Lester Graham reports… the thought and planning behind the displays can be nearly as intricate as nature itself: