When the guy I was seeing said that he wasn’t that into wildlife because wildlife was dead, we had already killed it all, it was hard to think of a response.
The same people who think all the wildlife are dead tend to think there aren't any Indians left either. I have seen "the bears and wolves and muskrats and otters and trouts and eagles and ravens" and a couple of those I see almost every day, and a multitude of others. We've taken our hits, but plenty of us are still here.
Just today I walked by Piominko House within easy sight of the Capitol, which serves as the embassy for Chickasaw Nation. The tall reed grasses waved to me like the tall reed grasses in Oklahoma, which is apparently what they’re supposed to do.
Still, I think it’s a little like — have you ever had an infestation of ladybugs? Where this adorable creature becomes kind of grotesque?
Being me can sometimes be a little like that — my brain makes a lot of unicorns and rainbows and baby pandas, which is mostly great, I love that about myself, but also sometimes it’s helpful when someone comes along and points out that I have so many unicorns and rainbows around that they’re kind of obscuring some things.
For me, talking with Teddy can feel refreshing because he has zero rainbows and unicorns — but if you’re a person who doesn’t start out with an overpopulation of rainbows and unicorns in the first place, you probably don’t need to be reminded quite so often that life isn’t one big cloud of cotton candy.
I wanna see a wild otter so badly. They're in the Pine Barrens, but I'll probably have to kayak to see them. Maybe this autumn. Teddy is right in a way, but we have a lot left that we can save. Maybe one day the highways will return to nature and we'll see animals from bullet trains. I hope so.
The wild otter was amazing! That’s so cool that you have them so close to home. Hope you get to see one sometime.
Your thought about the bullet trains would be great.
Teddy has these moments of insight that feel really refreshing to me, but they are grim. If you’re not a person who overproduces rainbows & unicorns (as I was saying to Chris up above) maybe they’re not as helpful.
For me, sometimes it’s nice to look around and realize that all the people who are working to maintain & enrich the environment, to push against the darkness — whew, that’s so much work, mentally as well as in every other way.
There’s a lot missing. There’s a lot to do and a lot of people who don’t want it done. Even the shiniest & sparkliest of the unicorns can occasionally get to feeling a little shabbier and grimier given the challenges & that’s not crazy.
I love that place. This is the fourth year, or maybe fifth, that my sister and I are taking our families there for a couple nights. Did you hear coyotes? That's one of my kid's favorite things, is sitting out on that porch listening to the coyotes.
When we drive down by all the farms with their "save the cowboy" signs, it's impossible to miss the fact that many of those places have millions of dollars of relatively new farm equipment, much of it taxpayer-subsidized. The resistance is all about identity. There's one rancher a little south of APR who I'm told did a kind of reverse conservation easement: buffalo will never be allowed on his land, in perpetuity.
The American Prairie Reserve is an amazing & important place — and what an incredible vision and a ton of work. So neat that you & your kids & sister’s family go there every year. Yes, I heard the coyotes in the morning when I slept on the porch — utterly magical. I agree with you about the resistance to it.
The same people who think all the wildlife are dead tend to think there aren't any Indians left either. I have seen "the bears and wolves and muskrats and otters and trouts and eagles and ravens" and a couple of those I see almost every day, and a multitude of others. We've taken our hits, but plenty of us are still here.
Just today I walked by Piominko House within easy sight of the Capitol, which serves as the embassy for Chickasaw Nation. The tall reed grasses waved to me like the tall reed grasses in Oklahoma, which is apparently what they’re supposed to do.
(Not necessarily for you Chris, but just in case anyone is interested, for more info on the house and reed grasses: https://www.hillrag.com/2021/10/14/good-looks-long-lasting-undemanding/.
And for more on the the history of the Nation: https://www.ushistory.org/presidentshouse/history/chickasaw.php)
Still, I think it’s a little like — have you ever had an infestation of ladybugs? Where this adorable creature becomes kind of grotesque?
Being me can sometimes be a little like that — my brain makes a lot of unicorns and rainbows and baby pandas, which is mostly great, I love that about myself, but also sometimes it’s helpful when someone comes along and points out that I have so many unicorns and rainbows around that they’re kind of obscuring some things.
For me, talking with Teddy can feel refreshing because he has zero rainbows and unicorns — but if you’re a person who doesn’t start out with an overpopulation of rainbows and unicorns in the first place, you probably don’t need to be reminded quite so often that life isn’t one big cloud of cotton candy.
I wanna see a wild otter so badly. They're in the Pine Barrens, but I'll probably have to kayak to see them. Maybe this autumn. Teddy is right in a way, but we have a lot left that we can save. Maybe one day the highways will return to nature and we'll see animals from bullet trains. I hope so.
The wild otter was amazing! That’s so cool that you have them so close to home. Hope you get to see one sometime.
Your thought about the bullet trains would be great.
Teddy has these moments of insight that feel really refreshing to me, but they are grim. If you’re not a person who overproduces rainbows & unicorns (as I was saying to Chris up above) maybe they’re not as helpful.
For me, sometimes it’s nice to look around and realize that all the people who are working to maintain & enrich the environment, to push against the darkness — whew, that’s so much work, mentally as well as in every other way.
There’s a lot missing. There’s a lot to do and a lot of people who don’t want it done. Even the shiniest & sparkliest of the unicorns can occasionally get to feeling a little shabbier and grimier given the challenges & that’s not crazy.
Its foolish to think the world doesn't have big problems. It's deadly to not enjoy and appreciate what beauty we have, and work to save it.
I'm in my hammock watching the birds, e.g.
Good!
I love that place. This is the fourth year, or maybe fifth, that my sister and I are taking our families there for a couple nights. Did you hear coyotes? That's one of my kid's favorite things, is sitting out on that porch listening to the coyotes.
When we drive down by all the farms with their "save the cowboy" signs, it's impossible to miss the fact that many of those places have millions of dollars of relatively new farm equipment, much of it taxpayer-subsidized. The resistance is all about identity. There's one rancher a little south of APR who I'm told did a kind of reverse conservation easement: buffalo will never be allowed on his land, in perpetuity.
The American Prairie Reserve is an amazing & important place — and what an incredible vision and a ton of work. So neat that you & your kids & sister’s family go there every year. Yes, I heard the coyotes in the morning when I slept on the porch — utterly magical. I agree with you about the resistance to it.
I signed up for their mailing list, and I'll try to visit when I drive through Montana later this year.
In this week before Earth Day and Passover, I'm reminded by your essay of the way you listen to the still, small voice of divinity found in nature.
Thanks, Michael. ❤️
Yes, how many ghosts. Beautiful!
Thank you! 💗💗💗