Monarch Land Ethic

            I grew up in two, seemingly endless acres of maples, snowmelt rivers, and snapping dragons.   There was not a single tree I did not attempt to climb nor a grove I did not transform into a fort.  It was my home.  Each season brought new wonders that seemed to surprise me every year.  Be it the flaming fall leaves or the hoarfrost donned winter limbs, I was amazed.  We had a grove of cedar trees on the edge of our property that came to life in late summer.  The monarch butterflies would come in the hundreds and congregate amongst the cedars.  I would walk through the grove, startle the monarchs from their respite, and skip in a vortex of black and orange. 

            Over the years, some of the cedars lost their vitality.  I remember my dad saying something about disease and spreading to the other trees; I did not quite understand it.  He had to cut a couple of them down.  At first I was worried about the monarchs.  Would they come back to a smaller grove?  He told me not to worry, but, as a little kid, naturally I did.  Sure enough though, the butterflies came back the next summer and I once again danced in black and orange.

            Although I did not understand it at the time, my father acted in the best interest of our two acres and the monarchs.  He embodied Aldo Leopold’s land ethic.  First, he eliminated and utilized individual trees in order to maintain the integrity of the entire cedar grove. Second, he used the cut cedars to fuel our wood-burning fireplace.  Third, by eliminating the diseased cedars, he preserved the habitat of the monarch butterflies.  He maintained a chain in a migration and pollination that spans the entire continent.  He acted in the best interest of the entire biotic community – including one frolicking little blonde girl.

            My life in those two acres and my interactions with my dad, in particular, instilled within me a love for nature.  My dad made a conscious effort to craft a respectful relationship with nature and to bring me along.  He brought me to bird nests to watch turquoise robin eggs hatch into incessant chirping mouths.  He helped me dig up earthworms for fishing bait.  At dusk we sat on our deck and listened to the cooing of mourning doves and the calls of killdeer.  He taught me how to live amongst nature – how to be a member of the biotic community.