“One of the greatest historical ironies of Mount Desert Island was that its natural beauty was being destroyed as it was being ‘discovered’. Until the mid-nineteenth century, the idea that ‘wilderness’ could be appealing was bizarre to most people” (12). 

“Cities, suburbs, sprawl, and countryside got mixed together. One city’s suburbs bumped into suburbs from the city down the highway, but in between to each side were still a few farms. These areas, such s the one between Chicago and Milwaukee, were dubbed ‘urban corridors’. They fit together, sort of, and they didn’t, sort of. However they fit, they had one thing in common: trees, lots of trees” (50). 

During the hike, my ears were keenly searching for nonhuman sounds such as a leaf rustling, a bird chirping, the ground being disturbed. Occasionally my vigilance was rewarded as a squirrel or the occasional dog on the trail made their presence known to me, but I was hoping for more.

The ravens racing amongst the trees, dancing with one another and singing to their heart’s content, gave me the feeling that I was immersed in land that was not my own, not for animals, but for all of us, on equal footing. The benefits of the land for the ravens were the same as those for me, we shared an appreciation for the habitat, as I was awed by the views, and they were able to call it their home. But still, I was hoping for more sound. I was surprised by where we found it.

Half asleep in the back of the van, I was jolted to being woken up at a rest stop on the way back to campus. Some people were getting drinks, others using the restroom, and as such, I decided to stretch my legs before we made the rest of the trek back to Easton. Outside of the rest stop a lone tree stood; it was obviously placed there for decoration’s purpose, and there were no other trees within sixty yards of it, as highway and parking lot surrounded the complex. As I walked by the tree, I could not believe my ears.

Countless birds were sitting in the tree, squawking away, talking to one another about prospects for food in the lot, or dropped items that could make for a good snack. More birds than I had encountered on the entire hike were sitting in this one tree in the parking lot of a rest stop, and it made me sad.

I wanted to tell them, “Go to the Ledges! You will be happier there”. I wanted them to see what I had seen that day, and not where we happened to stop in the car for a break. I wanted them to call home where the ravens call home, but unfortunately this was not the case. Funny the way some things work out, as all the birds were far from nature, and the contrast throughout the day was striking.

Erik and I walked towards Farinon and looked at the trees that were facing the building on the quad. We decided to choose these trees because we thought it was interesting that we walk past these trees everyday, but we do not know what they are, what purpose they serve, and their effects on the environment, whether or not they are indigenous to the region. Leafsnap informed us that the leaves come from either a white ash tree, or a corkscrew willow.

I think this app is incredible, and that it is actually an example of technology bringing us closer to nature. Having the ability to recognize a leaf right away would bring vast knowledge to any person trying to find out more about their surrounding world.

I’ve been watching the Democratic debate, hoping that there would be more discussion of climate change than there was in the Republican counterpart, and I am happy to report that this has certainly come true. Moderator Anderson Cooper asked each of the candidates what the most important national security threat was to our nation going forward, and two of the five candidates highlighted climate change. Governor O’Malley and Senator Sanders, only having about ten seconds to highlight the largest point of the national security segment, took part of this time, and Senator Sanders took all of his time, to discuss how climate change is more important than current military threats.

To think of how far the movement has come in such a short time is amazing. Since the turn of the century, given our military history, it would be practically unimaginable to think that a politician would place climate change over terrorism, or conventional military threats. Granted, talk is cheap until action is taken, but the fact that serious contenders for the Democratic nomination, and the Presidency, are willing to call climate change the most important national security threat, well that’s a good sign.

“As more and more tourists sought out the wilderness as a spectacle to be looked at and enjoyed for its great beauty, the sublime in effect became domesticated. The wilderness was still sacred, but the religious sentiments it evoked were more those of a pleasant parish church than those of a grand cathedral or a harsh desert retreat” (75).

I thought this was an interesting passage because many of our classmates have visited the grand national parks of the west, and I believe they would disagree with Cronon’s assertion that it was tame or no longer held that special power that it once did. In this instance, I cannot agree with our author that it is domesticated, but rather that it is easier and more popular to seek out perhaps.

“To do so is merely to take to a logical extreme the paradox that was built into wilderness from the beginning: if nature dies because we enter it, then the only way to save nature is to kill ourselves. The absurdity of this proposition flows from the underlying dualism it expresses” (83).

This passage stuck out to me because in my response paper regarding “What is Nature?”, I basically played this dualism game myself, regarding nature as being as least touched by man as possible. While I don’t know if I fully agree with the sentiment expressed in the quote, it is an unusual perspective that I had not thought of before, but one that certainly is expressed in most apocalyptic movies, when the human race is killed off, and nature and wilderness reclaims what was once lost. An interesting notion here from Cronon.