Month: September 2022

A cool evening mist descends as the herd of 35 elk graze in Upper Beaver Meadows. A 6 x 6-point bull keeps an eye on his harem as he leisurely munches grass. A “spike” (2-year-old male with single antlers) gets too close to the herd and the bull hustles him away. Another hefty bull bugles in the distance and heads toward the harem.

The two big bulls square off to fight each other. The cows and calves stampede away. The guys wrangle. Out of nowhere, four small young opportunistic and eager bulls appear and advance toward the cows. Pandemonium ensues as the young bulls try to lure the cows with them. The big bulls continue fighting. One young bull succeeds in cutting off a half dozen cows and calves and they run away from the rest.

The fighting bulls stop. The winner is unclear. Each trots off in different directions away from the cows. Two younger bulls corral the remaining females and exit over the bluff out of ear or eyesight.

It’s the elk rut season. I spend 2-3 nights each week volunteering in the park with the Elk Bugle Corps observing drama as described above. The charge to volunteers is to keep the elk safe from the people, the people safe from the elk, and the people safe from one another.

I enjoy the evenings in the park. I have developed, however, a love/hate relationship with this time of the year. I feel sorry for the male elk driven by their hormones to endanger their lives in quests to dominate cows. For 10 ½ months a year, the bull elk have their “gentlemen’s club” where they hang out with each other and enjoy the mountain air. When the rut starts, they become mortal enemies in vying for the attention of the cows.

The reality is that the cows are in charge. Bulls can bugle all they want and roll in their urine and mud to become as attractive as possible to the females. They can fight and posture, but the ladies will determine who they want to father their offspring.

Determining winners and losers among the bull elk is hard to say. The bull who impregnates the most cows is a winner, but the consequences can be high. The young bulls may not be successful in younger years, but if they get big enough and live long enough, they will have their opportunities. The spikes can be pitiful since they want to be with their mommas but are chased away by jealous older bulls.

I am fascinated by this fall entertainment and am relieved when it is over. Calmness will return to the park, and cows will reunite to wait for babies to be born in May. The bulls will congregate in their “man meadows” as best buddies as they pass time until their antlers fall off and begin growing in the spring. The cycle continues…

When I was a teenager, I had dreams of grandeur in making a dramatic difference in the world—finding the cure for cancer or being the champion of world peace. Those grand goals did not come to fruition and yet, I am making a difference in other ways. The Starfish Story has served as an inspiration for me in recent years.

A man was walking along the beach after a heavy storm. During the storm, debris from the sea washed up on the shore- seaweed, driftwood, and various shells adorned the moist sand. In the distance, along the shoreline, the man saw a child playing in the surf. As he grew closer, he saw that the child was running inland, picking something up from the sand, and then throwing it into the ocean. He would time his run so that he could get as far out as possible without getting overwhelmed by the waves.

As the man got closer, he saw that the ground was littered with countless starfish of various sizes, each drying out in the sun. The boy was collecting as many as he could and throwing them back into the water.

“What are you doing?” the man asked.

Without stopping, the boy replied, “the storm washed all these starfish up, and they’re going to dry out in the sun. I’m throwing them back into the water so they’ll survive.”

The man looked around and noted just how many starfish there were- far too many for a child to collect in time. “But there’s too many,” he said. “You should just go play, you can’t possibly make a difference.”

The boy picked up another starfish and threw it back into the water. “Made a difference to that one.”

Anyone can make an impact in someone’s life. Sometimes a small act can have an influence not forgotten.

In the Information Office at Rocky Mountain, a wall hanging says, “They may forget what you said but they will never forget how you made them feel.” I think about that often as I respond to questions. I hope that people not only get answers but also feel positive about the park.

I am reminded of chaos theory, and specifically the butterfly effect, when I think about making a difference. The butterfly effect concept concerns any situation where a slight change may have larger consequences. The thing about making a difference is often we have no idea what effect, positive or negative, we might be having on others.

I often do not know what my words or actions portend, but I believe in working together, small efforts can have larger implications in the world.

They say that you never forget your first love. I can say that about my first “indoor” kitty. As I unabashedly proclaim, I am a cat person. That affinity, however, has developed over the years and began with my first cat named DJ.

DJ was a 9-pound gray tabby. This story is nothing remarkable except for what she came to mean to me. Many pets are not remarkable but their relationships to humans make them extraordinary.

DJ originally owned my friend Deb. I got to know both Deb and DJ when I was in graduate school in 1977. When Deb and I lived together, I mostly ignored DJ as did Deb. Eventually, however, DJ snuck into my life, and I ended up being her primary caretaker for years.

An amiable cuddly cat would not describe DJ. She didn’t like other cats or most people. One day she pushed another cat out a two-story window. The other cat used one of its nine lives and lived unscathed, except for its eternal fear of DJ.

DJ and I gave each other the space she needed. If she had food and a clean litter box, she didn’t want much else. Sometimes she would cuddle up next to me on the couch, but without a moment’s notice, sprint off and lounge in another room by herself for hours.

She avoided me if she saw a suitcase come out. Consequently, when I returned home, DJ would walk up to me as I was unpacking, establish eye contact, and disdainfully and purposely sit and turn her back on me. I was duly punished!

When DJ was 17 years old, she developed kidney disease. I did what I could to make her comfortable, but she really did not like a special diet. She began to lose weight and mellowed significantly.

The night that she passed I knew from her shallow breathing that the end was near. I stroked her head and thought about all she had meant to me over the years-living in four different states and double that number of homes, people coming in and out of my life, huddling together as a hurricane bashed our North Carolina house, watching as I graded thousands of papers, and reading together May Sarton’s accounts of her fur persons.

I love cats, and DJ will always be my first most special feline fur person.

When I am volunteering at the park, someone often will ask me about a “rule” we have (e.g., where dogs can go in the park, where one can walk off-trail). I am happy to discuss these questions but am chagrined if someone follows up regarding what the penalty is for breaking the rules. I despise people who think they can do whatever they want if they don’t get caught.

These questions prompt me to think about moral development and especially how the Authority of the Resource dictates how policies are made and how visitors understand the implications beyond punishment for breaking the rules.

The Authority of the Resource principle and technique, promoted by the National Park Service, focuses on the natural authority inherent in the requirements of a healthy ecosystem, rather the influence of the agency (e.g., law enforcement). It centers not on regulation and the requirements set by people, but rather on the requirements of nature itself. If an environment such as a National Park is to be sustained, people need to understand the implications of their actions and why we have “rules.” The emphasis is on WHY the policies exist to protect the environment and safety of recreationists.

Most people have integrity and want to do the right thing. If they venture into the outdoors, they generally care about the environment. Sometimes they just do not know what the right thing is and sometimes their moral development doesn’t reflect an evolved thinking.

One of the ideas that intrigued me most when I did my undergraduate studies over 50 years ago related to moral development in children. Although theories of moral development have been debated, they help understand human behavior. The theories suggest that moral development ranges on a continuum from being concerned about the consequences of breaking the rules to a recognition that living in society is a social contract where the goal of each individual is to improve society (and the environment) as a whole.

I enjoy using the Authority of the Resource Technique to explain why recreating in the park, or on any public lands, is a celebration of the collective good. I believe people have a moral duty to act in ways that protect the public land, and that staff and volunteers have an obligation to help others see why policies are necessary. I love the notion of the Authority of the Resource to facilitate meaningful recreation experiences while preserving the natural environment.