Editor’s Essay

Elevator Behavior

Visitors to Theodore Stone Forest Preserve in southwest Cook County — and shoppers at the neighboring Quarry Mall — can make their way to a particularly ghastly intersection of nature and culture lying directly south of the mall’s parking lot. I refer to Apathy Canyon, where stormwater, funneled through a now-broken pipe, has carved a deep scar into the preserve, threatening a rare dolomite prairie.

The problem began many years ago, at a time when few people cared enough (or knew enough) to advocate on behalf of the prairie, to demand that damaging practices cease. Those who channeled gushing stormwater onto forest preserve land viewed it only, perhaps, as empty space and not as habitat for thousands of creatures. We have not yet developed a widespread culture of care for nature.

In a way, this issue of Chicago WILDERNESS is filled with both horrors and hope, with disasters and discoveries. Al Wilson, longtime volunteer steward of the rare Lake in the Hills Fen, had spent years teaching others how to restore this precious place. Al and his wife, Barb, have a near-sacred devotion to it.

Thus, it is hard to imagine the degree of outrage and dismay Al must have felt when he learned, in March of this year, that firefighters responding to a wildfire on the property had driven heavy machinery into the delicate ecosystem, where they became stuck. Again, the firefighters and others had no idea how much harm they were doing. Yet containing the fire — which itself actually benefited the preserve — was a job that merited the delicacy and precision of judo, not the brutal indifference of a tank battalion.

Years ago, Cooper’s hawks were called chicken hawks in recognition of their favored prey. People mercilessly hunted and killed the hawks until they became a threatened species in Illinois. This attitude treated nature as a nuisance, something to trample or kill or move out of our way.

Yet today, we know our natural resources are finite, and we see an emerging ethos of care — and humility. We see it in Joe Kayne’s back yard where by teaching his kids not to harass the hawks, Joe’s whole household can enjoy the experience of an uncommon bird family growing up alongside their own. We see it in conservationists’ drive to improve our understanding of shrubland-bird habitat — a concept barely on the radar only a decade ago.

Throughout our region, people are “making way for ducklings” (and Cooper’s hawks, coyotes, fens and fire). They are getting a feel for other creatures. Increasingly, people are seeking to learn about nature and stand up for it.

Think about it as elevator behavior. Only the most brutish among us would enter a shared space and step on other people’s toes. Instead we stand respectfully, making way for others. In a crowded elevator, we employ an attitude of respect, even care. In a crowded landscape, we must do the same. Nature deserves no less.