by holmes » Thu 17 Mar 2005, 13:30:30
$this->bbcode_second_pass_quote('MonteQuest', 'H')ere is something I wrote as a National Park Ranger 14 years ago. I think it is quite apropos for this moment.
A RANGER SEES FORTY
Forty years old. Not so old, really. As a child I remember thinking about growing old, reaching "forty," or perhaps beyond. It seemed like a long way off. But as we all too suddenly find out, it is but the blink of an eye. As I reflect back through the years, I find the roots of my being: the failures, the successes, the trials, the tribulations; all the ingredients that go to make up a life. Someone once said, "The older you become, the smarter your parents appear to be." I imagine that the wise old sage who blubbered that bit of wisdom was, like myself, a recalcitrant little know-it-all in his younger days.
Although I was born in Winslow, Arizona, the locale that probably had the most influence on my life was good ol' Missouri. At the tender age of three, I went to live with my grandparents on a farm in Northwest Missouri, just a stone's throw from the Iowa line. It was there, under the influence of my grandfather, that the ground work was laid for the conservation ethic that has so dominated my life. He was a very frugal man; making do with what he had, and if forced to buy something, it was usually second-hand. This austere life, coupled with his discrete use of insecticides, herbicides, and inorganic fertilizers, made a great impression on me. It was my first lesson in the philosophy...that less is more.
During the peaceful post-war years of the 1950's, life was idyllic for a small boy with 212 acres to roam. I learned to hunt and to fish, milk a cow, drive a tractor, and, as my mother once observed, enjoy being little. I enjoyed hunting a great deal; but in later years, as I grew more aware of the environment, I found that hunting no longer had place in my life. We ate everything we shot in those days; but it was not subsistence hunting—it was sport.
Nature is at her best in the eyes of a small boy. I spent a great deal of time playing down by the "crick" on those lazy, hot summer afternoons of my early childhood; building dams, catching frogs, and remembering the first word from my Dick and Jane book.... Look! I shall never forget that time in my life. It was the best. The freedom I had then as a boy can not be bought anywhere. I will cherish those memories forever.
Throughout my life, I have been rather appalled at the way mankind has treated this planet. It has a given me very strong convictions about life and how to live it. Through diversity, we have stability; through conservation, we preserve that diversity. If only one area can be viewed as sacred, let it be the National Parks.
By the time the National Parks System was created in 1916, the frontier was gone. No longer did the bison roam the plains; never again would Native Americans follow their old ways. The thought bothered people. Thank God! Suddenly, the observations of John Muir took on a new meaning. Still, we had to go through the era of garbage-gobbling bear-feeding shows, "firefalls" in Yosemite, and, of course, the tree tunnels in Sequoia. The National Parks could not be, at once, wilderness sanctuaries and public playgrounds. The demands of conservation, we have found, are far more complex than first imagined.
In today's world, an unprotected wilderness is doomed. Edward Abbey once wrote of Canyonlands National Park: "...The least inhabited, least inhibited, least improved, least civilized...most grim bleak barren desolate and savage quarter of the state of Utah—the best by far." Like Abbey, I, too, love the desert. The desert visitor tends not to revere the desert as he would the green pine forest. Thus, as a result of unintentional bias, the more fragile desert plays second fiddle. If you can't handle the hard facts of solitude, searing heat, and scarce water; you are not likely to smell the flowers.
Henry David Thoreau once enumerated, "The paths to money, invariably, lead downward. To work merely for the wages your employer pays you, is to be cheated. You cheat yourself." It was with this thought in mind, that I decided to join the National Park Service. Rangers who work for the Park Service are motivated for reasons other than financial—no doubt! A concern for the environment, a dedication to public service, and an envied occupation, just to name a few. To help preserve our American heritage is our duty, and responsibility, as stewards of the earth. From the miracle of Crater Lake's blue...to the endless sawgrass prairies of the Everglades; these are our National Parks, to me, the closet thing to a sacred place. The dreams and memories they contain are in our care today; tomorrow's generations depend on us to keep them whole.
I now enter the summer years of my life; my passion has mellowed, and I don't stay up quite so late. My adamancy has been tempered with the years, and I am better able to articulate my views. All in all, everyone who touched my life affected it in some way, good or bad, more or less. Thank God, it was mostly good.
In my next forty years, I hope we all gain some wisdom into the workings of old Mother Earth. The intricate web that she weaves across this planet, startles and confuses us, one and all. "In wildness," wrote Thoreau, "is the preservation of the world."
The siren song of the desert has ben calling me. Her melodies reincarnated in the melodic harmonies aof the canyon wren. A canyon wren once saved my life down in Grand Gultch. I was out of water a off on a bushwack throught the sage brush. Lost and dehydrating. brain was starting to moverheat and I was getting disoriented. I was heading in the wrong direction. But behind me kind of far down the canyon around the bend i heard this wren blasting away. I was praying at tthis point. so I turned around and followed the sound and the wren kept moving and after about 15 minutes I broke throught the brush and was in familiar ground and the trail led out of the canyon. well I had 7 more miles out of the SOB and let me tell you my mouth was dried shut and I chugged a ice cold soda and choked. I laid in the shade for hours. Didnt think id make it. But I love going and never can stop. Be there in may.