prairie – Water :: Earth :: Wind

Yesterday we made a pilgrimage I’ve made a half dozen times before. We drove to Freezeout Lake near Fairfield, Montana, to witness the annual spring fly-out of a hundred thousand snow geese. Our road trip was short and easy compared to the birds’ many thousand-mile journey. All we had to do was get up at 4:30 am — a totally uncivilized time of day for me (*whine*) — and drive a couple of hours. The geese (up to a half million) weren’t even midway along in their migration from central California to Alaska and the Yukon. Before arriving at Freezeout, the massive flocks of geese had made a 15 to 18 hour non-stop flight. Now that’s a journey!

Imagine sitting in your car in dark. Waiting. It’s too cold and windy to wait outside. For now. The engine is running so you can keep your feet warm. You roll the window down and hear a far off murmur.

Just before dawn the sky barely lightens. The murmur resolves like a jazz chord, into low-pitched honks and calls. You sip your hot coffee … turn off the engine. You are quiet. The prairie is quiet.

Suddenly you feel a pounding downbeat as several thousand geese erupt from the water’s surface.

The mass of black dots becomes a cloud of white. Throngs of geese lift in unison, creating a huge black and white spiral. Smooth backs reflect the twilight. Then the flocks head towards you out of the western darkness.

They are directly overhead in just minutes. Jump out of the car and listen! The sound gives you shivers. So many voices!

Look up! Life’s artistry lifts your soul. Snow geese fly in formations that shift and flex — they are writing poetry in calligraphic lines across the sky.

The incredible sound of that many geese flying overhead … going somewhere … makes me feel so connected to life. The sky and the prairie are inside me, those sounds are in my heart and my soul … I am filled with longing. To go … to explore … to belong.

I grew up in the 50s and 60s. My siblings and I spent every spare moment playing in nature. Our suburban back yard and the meadows, pastures, woods, creeks, oak trees and bramble patches of my childhood are as vivid in my memory as if it happened yesterday.

The moment our school bus dumped us out near our house, we would grab a snack then rush out to play until Mom called us in for dinner. After dinner, in good weather we would head back out until dark, when she would insist we come in and do our chores.

Mom taught me the names of all the wildflowers and how to tell the difference between a monocot and a dicot. I learned to value the habitats of hundreds of creatures that lived on the wooded hillsides and creek bottoms near our house.

Slug, salamander, carrion beetle, praying mantis, flying squirrel, cardinal, purple finch, deer, siskin, spring beauty, skunk cabbage, lady slippers, raccoon, possum, badger… their names roll off my mind’s tongue like poetry.

I would be bereft if our world contained even one less of the thousands of beings I grew to love as a child.

My husband, Tim Carney and I contribute to the Nature Conservancy every year because we believe in the work the conservancy is doing all over this world, especially in our home state of Montana. The Rocky Mountain Front is sacred to us and to the First Nation people. For me, the Front is probably the most spectacular landscape on earth, and it is certainly one of the most ecologically vital habitats for Earth’s creatures. I am thankful to the Conservancy for their work on behalf of the Front.

For 25 years, Tim and I have practiced Huichol shamanism. Integral to Huichol shamanism are daily meditations and seasonal ceremonies that celebrate the heart of Mother Earth … we believe that Nature is sacred; that every entity on earth has a spirit, is literally alive. Mountains and rivers. Stones. Trees. Black bears, wolves, salmon, pine bark beetles and earthworms. Every being deserves our respect.

Nature is inside us and we live in Nature. The idea that we humans (and everything) contain the dust of ancient stars …. this fits our beliefs perfectly. We are made up of all that surrounds us, all that has come before us. My mind, heart, legs and eyes contain molecules of that juniper tree, of the Yellowstone River, of the garden where I plant beans and corn. And, when I am finished with my body, ideas, breath … my atoms will go forward in time, transforming into other parts of Nature.

My beliefs inform my everyday life, so it makes sense to me to respect and love Nature — it is vital to the health of our world, to our species, to all of life.

When I take my daily walks, I think about stepping gently on my Mother. I think about walking instead of driving. I think about making my ecological footprint as small as possible. This is my meditation as much as praying each morning for healing for myself, family, community and the Earth.

I make my living as an artist. The core message I try to express with my art and photography is “connection.” Connection to Nature, to the heart of the Earth. If I can inspire one person to become more deeply connected to the natural world through my artwork, then I know I will have succeeded.

Both Tim and I have immense appreciation for the Nature Conservancy’s staff and ideals. The work is vitally important to quality of life — ours, yours, our descendants and all of Earth’s creatures. Please consider becoming a donor to the Conservancy and help protect Earth’s heart for future generations.

I originally wrote this article to share on the Nature Conservancy’s Stories site.

Tag: prairie

Snow Geese, Calligraphy and a Cold Dawn

Why Nature is So Important to Me