I chose the Burrowing Owl. I like owls, and I like burrowing. I thought that the chapter was interesting because it had strife in it between the mom and the author. At least i know that personally if i get in a fight with someone, let alone my mother, i retreat. I go back to somewhere where i feel safe. I burrow.

Doing my own research on those fine furry friends I found that they were the Least Concern when it came to the endangered scale. I thought it was kind of funny, because (Barring those troublesome humans) if they were being hunted by natural predators to a dangerous level then they wouldnt be that good at burrowing now would they? Branching off this are two topics, one of the human perception and one of being safe. I dont know if anyone else was alive (13–holy shit 13?!) years ago. But that is when the lil movie based on a book called Hoot came out. It showed these lil bird boys in their most endangered, which is to say in the way of something human. I think it is interesting to think that something which was evolved into for safety has pretty much become irrelevant due to our grand plans. The second branch of being safe is that although it is something we all do, it may not always work. When a larger more difficult problem arises (Humans in this metaphor) then doing what always feels safe doesnt always work.

Death n’ farms

I’ve met many people who have lived on or worked on farms in their lives. THey all have the same funny frankness around death that has to do with the fact that they are around death so much. I dont think it is a gift or a curse but as they tell me, “it simply is”. They still cry when their grandmothers pass and they still get sad remembering old cats but their perception i guess is more real. They understand it better than any of us will who arent surrounded by it constantly. I think it is an interesting way to connect his writing to his life because he doesnt believe that the environment will eventually die. I guess i would think that someone who is so accustomed to the idea of passing on could see there was also a time and an end to the natural world but his optimism is interesting

Class exercise

I don’t like heights. Not particularly fond of the idea of jumping out of a plane to go sky diving, although i always say i want to before I die. As a kid, and a proper kid –like under the age of 16– I fell in love with climbing trees. I don’t know why i never felt nervous up there, 2 or 3 stories high maybe. I’d back up from the edge of The Grand Canyon one year after i climbed my tree for the last time, but never did i think about venturing into the coffee filter of adrenaline and serenity of the top tree branches. I didn’t wanna jump or fly, I wanted to be right where I was. Tasting the hard cold that would soon be chased by below freezing temperatures and snow.

We, the tree and me, bent with the wind, moving in living conversation or simply simple co-existence. Thankful to whoever or whatever sent the rushes of spiraling refrigerator wind against and the around my fingertips. Styling my hair differently, naturally. I haven’t changed my feelings towards the trees or the wind, I’ve simply been divorced from my home tree. School, moving, age, laziness, work, all have strained my relations with it. But we still talk sometimes. I never let too many trees breeze past me without reaching out and touching, or let too many winds wind around the forests without having my lungs and blood and brain be a blissfully short detour.

White Oak Leaves

Walking in the oak grove and around Kauke i found a leaf which i looked up to be white oak. There isnt much of a story around it because I simply dont know anything about leaf identification so I just had to look it up. While looking up white oak leafs, I was surprised to find a couple websites using the white oak as a symbol of wildlife conservation. I appreciated how others seem to think as I do about trees which is that they are protectors of sorts, a good vehicle to get people to care about species and animals that others might not know about.


This guy really grinds my gears. I don’t know if it is how conceded he is, or if it is the fact that he is a decent writer at times in spite of his head being stuck firmly betwixt his own cheeks. The section that particularly yanks my chain comes from the beginning of Visitors.

“I think that I love society as much as the most, and am ready enough to fasten myself like a bloodsucker for the time to any full-blooded man that comes in my way. I am naturally no hermit, but might possibly sit out the sturdiest frequenter of the bar-room, if my business called me hither.”

On one hand I hate every second of this reading, not only for the hypocrisy that is present in this book about being isolated but on the other hand I extremely hate this passage because he knows how hypocritical it is of him to say this. And lastly I hate it because It is such a good image of what social situations frequently feel like to me.


Damn you Thoreau

Johnsons woods

I like trees.  Beach trees. The bark is smoother than most pillows I’ve come across. I don’t begrudge kids either for marking up beach trees. It’s trashy, and ignorant, and ugly, and takes so long to do that they should reconsider what they’re doing while they’re doing it, and without purpose, and really who cares about KM and JS or BS and FU, but regardless they’re kids so I don’t particularly begrudge them a stupid mistake. God Knows I’ve had my fair share.


Although sometim–always– trodden underfoot, the paved pathways we walk every day are fairly close and far from “where we’ve come from”. On one hand they represent, at their most basic, the small deer paths and game trails you can find wherever semi-to-very-large life is. On the other hand we’ve paved over the earth and roots removing the nature aspect.

The second example is related, the stairs. They are, to me, a more egregious affront to whatever “nature” is. They break the smooth slopes of hills with their cliff-like edges…which may make them to be just as natural as anything else. I’m not committed strongly one way over another.