Dia Del Ninos

     Pinatas! Candy! Singing! Dancing! Food! What do all these things have in common?  Children's Day in Honduras! Children's day (Or Dia Del Niños) is celebrated every year in Honduras on September 10 and internationally on the 20th. It is a day specifically set aside to honor the children and partake in joyful festivities. As a volunteer for ProTECTOR it is also the perfect time for turtle education. When else do you get throngs of swarming children listening to your every beck and call? As this was a party and thus necessitated a piñata, we decided to make our piñata turtle shaped and talk about turtle ecology before the kids started tearing the pinata apart (Still unsure if pulverizing a model turtle is the best way of promoting their conservation? Hoping the people won't view this as burning an effigy or something). For the icing on the cake I got the dubious pleasure of donning a giant turtle costume complete with fuzzy shell, feet, and head. Needless to say I looked utterly ridiculous in the costume but it was totally worth the discomfort and embarrassment to see the looks on the kids' faces. After they got over the shock factor of a giant tortuga, they started smiling, laughing, and pointing. When I took the turtle head off, all fear was soon gone and lots of little hands started pulling at the shell or holding my hand. Pretty soon Noemi started talking about turtle ecology had the kids illustrate how a turtle buries its nest. Figuring if I was going to wear this ridiculous costume I might as well make a fool of myself, I joined the kids on the ground, swiping my gigantic gloves through the dirt and making generally ridiculous turtle-like (Or what I thought were turtle-like) motions. After explaining to the kids how the turtles laid their eggs which were then brought to the hatchery for safekeeping, Noemi brought out the turtle pinata. For the last several days Noemi and I  (But primarily Noemi as I have not a single artistic bone in my body) had been working on the pinata and it looked beautiful. We created the frame from wire, used flour and water to make the body, and glued paper máché along the outside to give it the proper color. A pair of googly eyes and a drawn on smile completed our turtle, and what a turtle it was! We attached the pinata to a rope, tossed the rope over a tree branch, found a stick, and began the piñating (Which is totally a word I just made up, but I don't really care). The kids went absolutely nuts over the pinata, and when I say nuts I don't simply mean mildly excited or slightly enthused I mean raving crazy. Kids were literally diving on top of each other to get the candy that gushed from the poor battered tortuga. It was in one sense rather hard to watch. These kids who rarely got enough to eat and often suffered from malnourishment and mistreatment were practically ravenous for the candy. The parents too eagerly eyed the candy that spilled from the pinata and urged their children onward to be the first to the prize. I was somewhat surprised that no one was injured from the experience. Despite the bitterness and violence so evident around me there was also much joy. I saw children's faces light up like I had never seen before, little feet dancing to the rhythm of life, little eyes gazing in wonder at my turtle suit. Needless to say it was a very good day.

(Pictures courtesy of Noemi and Taji)

 Me and the tortuga piñata

        

One of the niñas up to bat

 Lots of digging turtles

Me and some of the children

Christian the sea turtle and two beautiful niñas

  

El Muerte de Las Tortuginas

     Today I have but one sad tale to tell you. Today we (That is Noemi and I) went out to check on one of the turtle nests that was close to hatching. It was a beautiful day (As is almost every day in Honduras) with the sun shining overhead, the tide far out, and the magnificent frigate birds flying overhead. As we walked to Santiago's hatchery little did we know the tragedy in store for us. Upon arriving at the hatchery we dug up the dirt overlying the nest (Olive Ridleys bury their eggs in a 30-40 cm hole) and carefully removed a few of the eggs for inspection. Alas every egg we brought up was drowned! For the two previous nights it had rained quite heavily utterly soaking the loose ground in our nest and drowning the baby turtles within (Tortuginas). With heavy hearts we broke open a few of the eggs to see the damage. Embryonic fluids and water spilled from the eggs onto the sand.The poor infants were almost fully developed when their little lives were snatched away by the storm.The dead eyes of one little guy stared at me pleadingly; the look of those dead eyes will haunt we for some time.  None of the eighty two eggs in the nest (As far as know) survived. We went away today mourning the loss of our baby turtles and hoping that the other nests had not suffered a similar state.
     I put this story in my blog not merely to despair of the brevity of life or the looming proximity of death, but simply to related a sobering incident that will be with me for some time. I will eventually put up a picture when I figure out how to get them off my camera.

A smattering of pictures

     For those of you who are so visually inclined here is a collection of photos from my time in Honduras. I likely won't be posting a ton more pictures as I inadvertently destroyed my already malfunctioning camera by failing to remove it from my pocket when I entered the water. The video card, fortunately has been salvaged but my poor camera bought my sophomore (Or junior year, I can't really remember) has gone the way of the dodo. From now on any pictures I post here will either be from my phone (Terrible quality) or from someone else's camera. Anyway here are a few pictures in no particular order to liven up your day. Enjoy.

 Storm over the Bay of Fonseca

 The house where I stayed (And yes those are cows in the front lawn)

 Beautiful tropical flower favored by hummingbirds

 Beautiful bracts of a tropical flower

 People lining up for a medical group visiting Punta Raton

 Dolphin Sculptures in San Lorenzo

 Restaurant in San Lorenzo

 The colloquial iquanas

 Sunset with fishing boat

 A man and his bike in San Lorenzo

 Little girl in Punta Raton

 Sunset over La Isle de Tigre

 Magnificent Frigate Bird

 

Turtle swimming off to the mountain (And yes I realize the horizon isn't straight)

A man in the mud

     I have mentioned in my previous posts about the exquisite beauty of Honduras and its people, but have relayed only in passing some of the great pain present in this place. This post is a wake up call for anyone thinking that Honduras is a tropical getaway of palm trees, beautiful trees, and spotless beaches. Yes there is much beauty in this place and much to praise God for, but all that is good in Honduras is set against the backdrop of an exceptionally harsh and cruel world. My goal with this post is not to be despairing or pessimistic, which those of you know me know I could never be, but to to simply present from my own experience and limited knowledge, the plight of the Honduran people. I might also add that my primary purpose in this post is not to elicit guilty charity or forced empathy, which often lead to poor action and false hope, but to simply encourage my readers to see the cares of another people, loved and cherished by God.

     Honduran society is first and foremost one of profound inequality with a very few people on top holding most of the money and the vast majority living in abject poverty beneath them. Poverty as I use the term here is not simply an indication of monetary value. Poverty in Honduras is not the struggling college senior working desperately to pay off their college loans, or the young couple attempting to find a house. No, poverty in Honduras is the uneducated farmer working in the blazing sun everyday, struggling to get enough money to feed his family. It is the 5 year old boy playing barefoot in the cracked and trash ridden streets, stomach extended from malnutrition and body wracked with a prolonged fever; his name is Tamar and I have held him in my arms. Poverty here is the scores of aching people that will wait hours, even days, to see a doctor only to be turned away for lacking money to pay for surgery supplies. It is the mother of Alex the fisherman , beaten with a stick by her nephew and forced to go three hours by bus on a bumpy road to a hospital. It is the beggar by the gas station washing his mud-caked clothes in a puddle because he has nowhere else to go. He calls after me as I board the bus, pleading for a bite to eat or a bag of water. In Honduras poverty is every man. 

     I share these pictures and stories, hard as they are, to illustrate a point; the suffering of the people of Honduras is very real and woefully ignored for the most part by the modern world. Poverty in Honduras is not a geographical phenomena of large cities or suburbs, or a deplorable condition one falls into by debt or unwise economics. No, in Honduras poverty is the common station of life for most of the population. Every physical or economical problem in a society, as any good sociologist or ecologist will tell you,does not exist in a void, but is intrinsically linked to a plethora of associated problems whether societal, governmental, environmental, mental, etc. This is particularly true in the case of Honduras. The fiscal problems Hondurans have are not merely the result of a lack of money to be spent (Though that surely is an issue), but root much deeper in the very way the entire society functions. Like many third-world countries Honduras is rife with corruption, trickling all the way down from government authority skimming money of his employees paycheck to the farmer bribing a guard to allow him to sell drugs. Such gross misuse and abuse of money leads inevitably to imbalance in where the money is going (i.e. fat cats and skinny mice) and how it is being used. Projects that would take a few months in a more stable society, the U.S. for example, may take years in Honduras. Simple infrastructure repair work is often left undone do to lack of funds or corruption along the lines. This lack of action or work in turn leads to greater apathy on the part of the people and less motivation to do work. In this atmosphere of lethargy and inability other problems arise. Depression is a major issue in Honduras followed by massive drug use and homicide levels. Only three years ago a man was murdered at Punta Raótn by a drunkard. The problems here are very livid and real. Every night when I go out to search for turtles I see underage boys smoking and drinking on the beach. Theirs' is a life of hardship. When they can't get a job or go to school, and see little promise for their future, can I really blame them for attempting to drown their sorrows in drugs and liquor?
     Another problem exacerbated by the corruption mentioned above and lack of working infrastructure is the sheer amount of trash littering their country. Note that this problem is not unique to Honduras but a growing concern for much of the modern world, even developed countries like the U.S.A. (No matter how hard we try to hide it behind fences or at sea). Everywhere you walk in Honduras you will find plastic. Water bottles, gas tanks, tubs, containers, chip bags, toothbrushes, shoes, anything. As garbage disposal and recycling are expensive and require substantial initial cost and continued cost they are virtually nonexistent in rural Honduras. Even in cities that do have a garbage disposal system recycling is at best rudimentary, consisting of a boy walking behind the truck and removing any plastic coke bottles as they throw them in the bed, and at worst nonexistent. For the majority of Honduras the primary method of trash removal is burning. Virtually every night all across Honduras you can smell smoke the delightful smell of burning plastic and toxic chemicals fill the sky with their aroma. I cannot simply blame the people here for their trash problem, for it is not solely their fault nor do they have any reliable way of addressing the issues. Much of the trash they feed to their fires has English scrawled across the front and large recycling symbols. The irony could not be more poignant. We, the "noble foreigners", in our attempt to aid the poor of Honduras, are polluting the very air they breathe with our plastics and their culture with our rampart materialism. Every Honduran I have met has a love for all things American. The things we wear, the color of our skin, the food we eat, and above all the money we so desperately cling to. Much of the cheap merchandise we throw away will inevitably end up the treasured possession of a Honduran, and eventually a discarded and forgot piece of trash on the beach.
     Fast food restaurants, considered the bottom of the totem pole in the U.S.A, are considered excellent cuisine in Honduras. Ornate landscaping surrounds the fully air conditioned, pristine, and shining Wendy's in Tegucigalpa, in sharp contrast to the surrounding slums choking in toxic air. Niño's and niñas wait in eager expectation for the special day that they get to have a junior bacon cheeseburger at Burger King. Little do they realize that just down the road a local street vendor is cooking food fit for a king; native Honduran food, delicious, healthy and direct from the environment that provides it. I will not spend any more time remarking on the problems that the U.S. and the rest of the modern world have inflected on this poor country. Suffice to say, we have done many good things to support the people of Honduras (i.e. charity, money, development programs) but in our attempts of kindness have also brought a wealth of misery on these poor people.
     The people of Honduras suffer, as I mentioned at the beginning of this post, a plethora of problems and troubles springing from profound economic inequality and societal corruption at ever level. My brief and somewhat biased depiction of these problems, is by no means comprehensive and is sure to contain some errors of which I apologize most profusely. My goal here, to reiterate, is not to judge the Honduran people or anyone else, but to simply explain the plight of the Honduran people as I see it. If I can can see a broken man in the streets washing himself in the mud and not be moved with sorrow and compassion, what kind of Christian am I? Did not Christ die for people such as these?

A typical Honduran House

La Tortuga

     The primary purpose of my time in Honduras is to learn about and contribute to the work ProTECTOR (The Protective Turtle Ecology Center for Training, Outreach, and Research, Inc.) is doing in sea turtle conservation. My main goal for the four weeks I am here is to simply get acquainted with the culture, the communities, and the turtles so I will better equipped to return to Honduras in the following years for my masters work. The particular study I am helping out with this summer is looking at Olive Ridley sea turtle populations.

     As a ProTECTOR volunteer one of my primary tasks is to patrol the beach at night with Noemi and Lelyn (The other volunteer) in search of turtles. Upon finding a turtle (La Tortuga in Spanish) we will tag it (Via a small metal tag with a unique value so we can identify it in the future), measure the length and width of its carapace (The top section of a turtle's shell), take pictures of the specimen, and gather a small tissue sample for DNA for genetic analysis in the lab. After carrying out these procedures we will then wait for the turtle to nest (All the turtles we are working with a females coming to the beach to lay their eggs) and measure nest parameters and the number of eggs. The turtle will then be released to return to the sea.

     I don't know if you have ever seen a sea turtle close up, but these animals are massive. Adult females such as the ones I am working with can have carapace lengths of 60-85 cm (>2 ft), and weigh a prodigious amount (90-100). Carrying them, consequently is quite a chore. You have to pick them up by the sides of the carapace, flip them upside down and put them on your shoulder like a bag of flour, all while the animal is flapping its fins madly like one of those tin monkeys with the clanging tambourines (Think Toy Story 3 or Phantom of the Opera). Then, when you finally get them where you want them and are trying to take your measurements, you have to contend with constant squirming and efforts by the turtle to escape. One person's job (Me it usually turned out) was to simply hold the turtle to the ground (An action that is far harder than it sounds).

     So far we have found a total of four turtles since I have been here: three last night and one the night before. Last night we also had the opportunity of getting one of these turtles to nest in a nursery we created (Santiago's nursery) specifically so Noemi can do some of her experiments with the hatchlings. We are not, however, the only ones looking for the turtles. In Honduras and much of Central America turtle eggs are considered a delicacy and earnestly sought after for consumption. Consequently when we go out at night to monitor turtle populations there are generally a fair number of natives out searching for eggs; even staying up late into the night and early morning for the chance to collect the eggs (A typical clutch can be upwards of 90 eggs). If sea turtles were as prolific or adaptable as chickens or other such egg laying animal such predation would not be an issue. The sea turtle would simply keep laying more eggs and eventually enough would escape the clutches of the poacher to escape to the sea. As it is sea turtle populations as a whole are very low in Honduras due primarily to high juvenile mortality (Many animals eat turtle eggs) coupled with massive poaching throughout the country. Pollution is also a growing concern for sea turtle populations as the turtles will often choke on plastic bags or ingest broken plastic bottles. The particular species I was studying, however, is the turtle species of least concern (In the Vulnerable category) and very prolific throughout the world, meaning they are not likely to go extinct anytime soon.  

     Rather than end on that rather blah note, I will instead post a picture of the turtle we found last night to lay eggs in our hatchery. Adios!

  

The craziest ride of my life

     In my previous post I said that I had the most exhilarating and crazy ride of my life. Turns out that wasn't exactly true. Yesterday I set out with Dr. Dunbar (The President of ProTECTOR), Noemi (A third year P.H.D student from Spain), and another volunteer. We left Teguc about 2:30 headed to the small village of Punta Ratón on the southern Coast of Honduras. We sped through the twisting city streets, stopped briefly at a supermercado for supplies and headed south to the coast. The road we took was the only paved road to the south and was, consequently, very busy with tiny cars, beat up SUVs (Mostly Toyotas), bicyclists, motorbikes, and massive trucks. Constant passing was the order of the day, often around steep curves and sheer cliffs. We twisted ever upward into the mountains passing small huts, farms and businesses. Every mile or so we would pass a dilapidated convenience store proudly displaying Coca-cola or Pepsi emblems and promising instant refreshment for the weary traveler; a stark testimony to the pervasive capacity of capitalism. Trash was a ubiquitous part of life in every town we passed, often lying fallen in the street or smashed on the ground, integrated into the ecosystem around it.

     For the first time since landing I saw the true beauty of the Honduran landscape. Amongst the crumbling houses, piles of garbage, and rusting cars sprung magnificent pines, deciduous trees of every stripe and color, elegant bamboo shoots, and exotic yucca and aloe vera. The forest rolled across the landscape calling little if it encountered tall hills or low valleys.

     As we were coming down from the mountains we ran into an evening storm. And what storm it was! In Honduras, as in much of Central America, the annual weather passes through two distinct seasons, a dry season and a wet. We happened to be in the wet season (May-November) and consequently would have to deal with storms for the entirety of our stay. They say storms are huge in the Midwest. They lie. No storm I have ever seen in Ohio or Michigan even comes close to the magnificence of this one. For several hours torrents of rain poured upon the earth, obscuring our vision and enriching the earth. Now I know why such biodiversity exists in this place. Nourished by the tremendous heat, humidity, and these amazing storms, life flourishes. Lightening hit the ground so close to me that I could feel it. Brilliant sheets of lightening rippled across the clouds like fingers of God, scouring the sky with their brilliance. Never ending sheets of rain scoured the concrete and formed vast pools along the road.

     Abruptly the truck we were following pulled to a stop. A car coming the other way, apparently, had lost traction and crashed into another vehicle. As we sat waiting for traffic to begin moving again, other vehicles began to “alternative” methods of getting around the accident from driving on the shoulder to passing into the other lane. Needless to say, it took some time for us to get moving again. Gradually we passed down from the mountains into the Southern Lowlands around the Gulf of Fonseca. (Named after the famed enemy of Columbus, Archbishop Juan Fonseca ). As we neared the coast the vegetation began to change. Palms, bananas, and bamboo began to appear more rapidly as the land flattened. The main river we were following grew larger in size as it slowed down and picked up water from tributaries. Towns began to look more rural than than in the highlands, more dependent on the land and less on the city.

     After some time we turned on a bumpy dirt road that lead directly to Punta Ratón. And when I say road I use it in the loosest sense possible. Imagine the bumpiest road you can think of, multiply that by ten, add several ponds and deep crevasses and you begin to get a picture of the road we traveled on. We did not so much avoid the potholes, as chose those holes we liked better. Nearing the end of our journey we drove out onto the beach, the waves softly lapping on our right and pulled into the house where I, Noemi, and the other intern would be staying. All I could see of the landscape in the dark was swaying palms and banana trees. Exhausted from the journey, I ate some bread, set up my mosquito net, and fell asleep.

     I awoke to find one of the most beautiful places on earth.

Punta Ratón looking towards Isla del Tigre

An introduction to Honduras

     This week began my first introduction to the wild, wonderful land of Honduras. Culture shock doesn't even begin to describe my first day in Tegucigalpa. The city is a rolling sprawl of raw humanity across a bumpy landscape of green and brown. Surrounding the city are rugged hills (Or colinas) covered in houses, trees, antenna towers, and to my utmost astonishment wind turbines.

     After landing and clearing customs (Substantially easier than U.S. Customs I might add), I walked out into the arrival area and was immediately washed in a cacophony of sound, color, and heat. I was supposed to meet Lidia Salinas here, the regional director for the ProTECTOR project I was volunteering with (More on ProTECTOR later). As I sat waiting in a strange country for a woman I had never met before, surrounded by people speaking a language I did not know, and sweltering under a very hot sun in 100% humidity, I could not help but wonder what in the world I was doing here. Me, a fresh out of college, ignorant American from Washington State in the bustling, tropical city of Tegucigalpa, Honduras. What was I thinking? After a period of waiting (Mostly consisting of me attempting to fend of taxi cabs wanting a fair) I eventually met Lidia's sister Anna who had come to pick me up. Next came the most exhilarating car ride of my life. If you can imagine an intricate, but disjointed dance of cars, buses, people, and motorcycles all attempting to occupy the same place at the same time with no regard to any traffic laws, you can begin to get an idea of what driving in Tegucigalpa is like. We zipped through narrow alleyways, over crumbling bridges, and past dozens of native's selling produce and knickknacks. Evidence of decay and disarray was all about: bumpy roads, polluted rivers, disheveled houses, and yet great beauty existed here as well. From the broken pavement and behind the barbed wire fence sprang beautiful flowers of vivid hues and enormous size. Beautiful niños and niñas in their school uniform laughed as they walked to school. Quaint tourist shops and local business rang with animated conversation laughter. In the midst of chaos life flourishes.

     That night I went out to the supermercado to buy groceries for the week and to find something for dinner. Food! I can barely describe how luscious and delicious Honduran food is. Fried plantains, fresh pineapple, and bananas right off the vine. Frijoles, tostadas, and tacos slathered with queso and fresh aquacartes. The people of Honduras truly know how to eat. That night I ate something incredible. Not sure exactly what I was eating, but it had fried plantains, lettuce, some amazing sauce, in a fried churro wrap. It was also a foot long. Needless to say it tasted amazing after a long plane trip and crazy day. In addition to this unknown tasty churro thing I had a cup of horchata, a sweet drink of rice, cinnamon, and sucar. It was a bit too sweet for me but very tasty. I went back to the room where I was staying that night, took pictures of the surrounding city, and collapsed in exhaustion on my bed. (Note: I will not be able to post a ton of pictures due to the slowness of my internet connection)

Tegucigalpa

   

Thinking about food

I have recently been thinking a lot about food and why as Americans we seem to care so little about what we're eating or where its coming from. If it's edible and "tasty" we eat it. Even those many people who care greatly about what they eat (i.e. how many fats, calories, carbs, nutrients, vegetables, fruits, grains, etc. they are digesting) seem to care very little about where it comes from or how it was grown. In what other sphere of life do we do this? If you were to hire a plumber, for example, you would care very much that he actually knew how to fix pipes and was not some random guy in overalls. You might even ask him what his credentials were. The same applies for buying a house. When purchasing or renting a house you don't just see a house you like and immediately get it. You take the time to survey the neighborhood, ask about the house's history, and check into its structural stability. My point is that people generally think about the history and character of what they are paying for. Why should it be any different with food? When was the last time you actually considered where everything on your plate came from? Is it even possible to trace your food to its origin?

     I recently finished an excellent book on this very subject by Michael Pollan entitled The Omnivore's Dilemma. In the book Pollan undertakes an arduous journey took eat/cook/create three meals based on three primary food chains, the industrial, the organic, and the hunter-gatherer. For each meal he attempts to trace each ingredient to its origin (i.e. field, animal, forest, etc.) and follow its journey, with all its twists and turns, to his plate. Along the way Pollan gives an excellent critique of the problems and advantages of each food chain and comments on his own experience. Pollan, to his credit, does not specifically condone a particular food chain or completely lambast another food chain but leaves up to the reader to make their own decision. 

    This book was a breathe of fresh air in an otherwise stagnate atmosphere of fad diets and rampant food ignorance. I learned much more in this book than I ever wanted to know about where my food comes from and, consequently, have changed the way I view, eat, and think about food. Don't read this book if you don't want to seriously question what it is you eat. It has changed how I eat and it most likely will change how you eat to.

      After reading Pollan's book I decided to try my own form of creating a meal and following a food chain to it's origin. Since I would soon be leaving to attend a vegetarian grad school (Loma Linda, CA) and thus in all likelihood not be eating much meat, I figured now would be the best time to attempt this task. Near Au Sable in the small town of Kalkaska there is a wonderful little farm called Shetler's Diary farm that raises grass fed, no hormoned (And yes I realize that isn't really a word but I am going to use it anyway) milk cows. Never have I tasted such wonderful milk or had the chance to simply pause for an afternoon and pet calves. In a crazy attempt at following Pollan's example I decided to buy one of their steaks and cook it (Note: I had never actually cooked a steak before) While there I also picked up a half gallon of whole milk and received (Wonder of wonders) a free jar of buttermilk to tenderize/marinate the meat (These people are awesome). This past Friday night I marinated the meat in the buttermilk plus rosemary, minced garlic, and pepper (Courtesy of my fellow roomate Josh) (And yes I realize that the rest of these ingredients I did not trace to the source) and refrigerated the meat till morning. Saturday night I, with the help of my friend Paul Wiemerslage, grilled my steak on a charcoal grill. As I sat eating that delicious meat (Which incidentally tasted amazing)  and sharing it with my friends, I could not help but think of the cow that died to give me this meat. It, unlike most cows, did not spend the majority of its life eating corn in a confined feedlot, but, nevertheless it still died to bring me this steak. The cow, a living, breathing, beautiful creature of God that exists to bring him glory was killed to fill my stomach. What do I think about that? Still not sure but working on it. I recently read an amazing book on the subject, On Animals: A Systematic Theology: Volume 1 by David L. Clough, but I don't really have room in this post to go into everything I learned from that book. Another post perhaps. In the meantime you can salivate admiring a picture of the steak I cooked and ponder where your food comes from.

Delicious Grass Fed Steak from Shetler's Dairy Farm

Some Useful links
The Omnivovers Dilemma

http://www.amazon.com/The-Omnivores-Dilemma-Natural-History/dp/0143038583/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1376256349&sr=8-1&keywords=the+omnivore%27s+dilemma
Dairy Farm
http://shetlermilk.com/

Pines and Prayer

     This past week I had the opportunity of attending the "Wood Shavings Day" event at Hartwick Pines State Park, a beautiful 10,000 acre park in Northern MI. As the name implies the festival was primarily an exploration of the rustic logging era of the 1800s. Blacksmiths, woodcarvers, and people selling wooden knickknacks abounded, each dressed in semi-authentic historical dress. Dense smoke drifted upward from a period sawmill run by an old steam engine. The clang of metal striking metal and the drone of old country music filled the air in a beautiful cacophony. Giant white pines reached to the sky, shouting their defiance against the loggers below. Modern day surveyors waxed eloquent of ancient mapping techniques and tools. Life returned,but for a moment, to the rustic days of yore when life was hard, but the future was bright. After perusing the stalls for a while, trying my hand at blacksmith puzzles, and watching the wood-chips fly from the old sawmill, I wandered off into the old growth forest to marvel at God's handiwork. It was amusing actually, how small these old growth "giants" seemed compared to the massive doug firs I'd seen in WA and the Redwoods in CA. Beautiful, and almost elegant they appeared to me, like the buttresses of a cathedral reaching toward heaven. In addition to wandering through the old growth forest (A true treasure of Northern MI) I also crossed the road to visit the Au Sable River, one of the healthiest and most beautiful streams I had ever set foot in. Dozens of shining damselflies darted above the river's surface in a stunning dance of beauty and light. Small clusters of striped fish darted past us, their glistening scales a whirl of red, silver, and yellow. All nature it seemed was part of a glorious dance; a wondrous and diverse cadence fit only for a King.

     A short prayer set in the small chapel of Hartwick Pines expresses far better than me how I felt that day. 

"Nature's Prayer"
Our Heavenly Father Creator of all that is nature. We humbly come to you in the midst of nature's splendor to thank you that as Americans we are free to worship as we please, work as we please, and move about as we please to enjoy all that is nature....It's mountains, it's hills, it's valleys, it's lakes, it's streams, and the living things that dwell therein; We pray unto you that someday the world may be at peace and all men be free to enjoy nature's abundance. We ask you in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ that we be guided to protect this priceless heritage which we in America are privileged to enjoy. Amen
                                                                                -Anonymous

        

 The Au Sable River

The Chapel in the Pines

 Nature's Prayer

 The Cross Window

A Poem I Found

I found this short poem scribbled in the back of an 1888 copy of "Leaves and Flowers or On Object Lessons in Botany", a very old 10-14 year old school book by Dr. Alphonso Wood on plant identification that I picked up for eight dollars at a book sale, and found its simplicity and tone immensely enjoyable.

When I am lonely and discontent
I wait for a sunny day to pitch my tent
And then I rejoice for the day's gone by,
When I did nothing but weep and sigh.
                                   -Anonymous

The preface to the book also contains a beautiful little paragraph about the purpose of studying Creation and specifically botany which I figured I would share here.
"If, then, it be desirable to preoccupy the minds of our children with controlling ideas of purity, refinement, and moral beauty,-with exalted thoughts of God, habits of mental activity, strength of judgement, and decision of character; and, moreover, to do all this by means of a study whose path, in a double sense, is strown with flowers, then is the study of botany desirable." - Alphonso Wood, 1863

P.S. For those of you actually reading my blog I would really enjoy some comments every once in a while so I can tell if you actually enjoy reading it.

A brief update on my life wanderings and happenings.

     So in the last several weeks a lot of interesting things have happened. One event I was part of, however, happened quite some time ago and thus deserves to be mentioned first. On June 14 (Last month I realize I'm really getting behind. Still getting used to this whole blog thingy) I had the opportunity and enormous privilege of being a groomsmen in my cousin Phil's and my good friend Nicole's wedding. It was, needless to say, a  truly beautiful thing to see these two people, who I both love dearly, united in love (I was literally crying when Nicole started walking down the aisle). On top of all the greatness of wedding, I also got to wear these awesome purple socks, get a new tailored suit, and eat a lot of really good food cooked by my mom (Who, if you don't happen to know, happens to be the best cook in the world). Seeing extended family from all over the world come together to celebrate was also an added bonus, particularly reuniting with those friends I hadn't seen in a long time (i.e. Greg and Alanna, Uncle Steve, Steven, Bethany, Mike, kids, etc.). Below are a few pictures from the wedding, all taken by photographers extraordinaire Kathy  and Tim Hall. I apologize for any degradation in quality due to the internet. Note: If any of you are expecting tons of wedding pictures, think again. I'm not pinterest.
    

 Bridal Party

Philip and Nicole Dudley

     Unfortunately the time passed much to quickly and within three days I was already flying back to Au Sable, that beautiful place nestled amidst the red pines, to continue identifying macroinvertebrates (See previous posts if you don't know what a macroinvertebrate is). Today I finally made it through all 156 or so of my insects identifying them down to the genus level. Now comes the long, somewhat annoying, but ultimately rewarding part of doing the stats and writing up a professional scientific report. I have already gotten started on the paper, but much remains to be done and little time (Five or so weeks) to do it in. Anyway asides from working on the research, yesterday was the Fourth of July (As you probably knew, unless you weren't paying attention). Au Sable staff and families, consequently put on a wonderful picnic on the beach of Big Twin Lake (Look it up if you're wondering where it is) full of wonderful food such as grass fed beef, salad with fresh strawberries, and local ice cream with cherries in it. I played so much volleyball last night my back was sore the next day (Need to learn to stop diving for every ball). Anyway the firework display put on around the lake was truly remarkable and may have even rivaled the display last year at the secret base on Fox Island (I realize only a few people will get this reference, but it's still true).
     This afternoon I had the enjoyable and quite exhausting opportunity of going butterfly catching. For about an hour or so I ran through grass, weeds, and tall ferns searching for elusive butterflies for the Butterfly Day going on tomorrow at the institute (http://ausable.org/), and it was incredible. Despite the itchiness of the legs, the sweat dripping down my back, and the unrelenting heat, I felt incredibly happy coming back with a sole butterfly. How often do you get an excuse to go running around the countryside swinging a net back and forth like a lunatic? Tomorrow I am running a 5k (if I can will myself to get up early for it). Not sure how much will be running and how much will be walking. We'll see. Anyway, hopefully this post has not been entirely boring. Should post something else in the near future. Also sorry for the sheer number of parentheses in this post. I like them and have a tendency to use them as often as possible even when they are entirely unnecessary (Such as here).

A pictorial tutorial on sampling macroinvertebrates

     Well as promised I finally got around to putting up pictures of me and the rest of the research crew sampling Macroinvertebrates on the Boardman River. The research crew is composed of me, David Petry, Nathan Hadley, Casey Shoaff, and Joel Betts All the pictures below were taken by Nathan Hadley, a fellow researcher on the team and, I might add, an excellent photographer. I'll put up another post soon about my exciting weekend in Washington with family and friends. For now enjoy the pictures of beautiful northern Michigan and wish you had a job as awesome as mine.

 The whole team (Aside from Nathan who is taking the picture)

 Walking to a research site

 Taking velocity measurements

 Casey Shoaff

 Former Brown Bridge Pond

 Casey and I

 David Petry leads the way

 Taking a sample (Joel Betts is closest to camera)

 Recording Data

 Getting wet while sampling

 Not all work

Joel, Nathan, and, David helping me take a sample 

 Me fighting the current

The river getting the best of me

The importance of the Sabbath Rest

"Another Sunday Morning Comes..."
by Wendell Berry, from A Timbered Choir.

Another Sunday morning comes
And I resume the standing Sabbath
Of the woods, where the finest blooms
Of time return, and where no path

Is worn but wears its makers out
At last, and disappears in leaves
Of fallen seasons. The tracked rut
Fills and levels; here nothing grieves

In the risen season. Past life
Lives in the living. Resurrection
Is in the way each maple leaf
Commemorates its kind, by connection

Outreaching understanding. What rises
Rises into comprehension
And beyond. Even falling raises
In praise of light. What is begun

Is unfinished. And so the mind
That comes to rest among the bluebells
Comes to rest in motion, refined
By alteration. The bud swells,

Opens, makes seed, falls, is well,
By becoming what it is:
Miracle and Parable,
Exceeding thought because it is.

Immeasurable; the understander
Encloses understanding, thus
Darkens the light. We can stand under
No ray that is not dimmed by us.

The mind that comes to rest is tended
In ways that it cannot intend:
Is borne, preserved, and comprehended
By what it cannot comprehend.

Your Sabbath, Lord, thus keeps us by
Your will, not ours. And it is fit
Our only choice should be to die
Into that rest, or out of it.

Warning: I get a bit wordy in this post    



     I have been thinking for some time now (Most specifically since I took an environmental ethics course in college) about the importance of the Sabbath rest for the individual, society as a whole and the land itself. Taking time to rest, recuperate, rejuvenate, and just bask in the glory and beauty of God's love is something that every part of God's Creation should have an internal longing and outward commitment to. On the individual level taking time to put aside the cares of this world and spend time in God's Word and His World brings not only physical relief but spiritual as well. Finding a peaceful spot void of all distracting noises and people, surrounded by the beauty of God's nature, with a Bible in your hand, and a poem such as the one above by your side is truly a beautiful and enlightening thing.    

      On the societal level the importance of the Sabbath rest can be seen, not in its diligent practice, but in it's woeful disregard. In this hectic society of constant motion, endless work, events, and decadent self-gratification, the idea of taking days, hours, even minutes to simply stop and reflect on something, anything for that matter, is a total anathema. The modern man may be smart, fast, hip, up to date on the latest technology, and a master of societal workings, but he knows next to nothing about how to properly rest. True rest, that is the Sabbath rest ordained in Genesis 2 where God set aside the seventh day "and made it holy"  (Genesis 2: 3) and commanded in Exodus 20:8-11 as a blessing and mandate to the people, is a concept entirely foreign to the modern mind. Even when people take a "rest" from their jobs to go on vacation, how often does this rest really correspond to true Sabbath rest? Often, rather than spending their precious vacation time to reflect on the beauty of God and his creation, they squander their time on grandiose schemes of meaningless self-fulfillment or materialistic pleasure.The results of this complete disregard for true rest are telling. Rather than returning refreshed from a wonderful vacation of relaxation and meditation ready to do God's work in the world, often travelers return just as worn out as they left and complaining about the work they must begrudgingly go back to the next day. What has happened to the sense of contentment and peace that should follow a time of well rested peace?  

     Finally there is the Sabbath of the Land, an intriguing and glorious commandment from Yahweh to His people in Leviticus 25:2-7, that has unfortunately been almost wholly disregarded by both the Israelites then and Christians today (Read the passage now before you forget, as you no doubt likely will by the time you finish reading this sentence). As the Israelites were coming into the land God specifically set out parameters of how they were to live that they might be his witnesses to the world and chief among these commandments was the mandate that the people set aside a Sabbath year every seven years that the land and its people might rest from their work and think on the extraordinary care of Yahweh  No food could be harvested during the Sabbath year except that which was already on the trees, and after 7 Sabbath years a Jubilee year would occur in which all land returned to its original owners. It is interesting to note, and somewhat depressing, that the specific reason given by God for the exile of Israel is that they failed to keep the Sabbath of the land (Leviticus 26:28-35, Leviticus 26:43. & 2 Chronicles 36:16-21). To punish his disobedient people and give the land it desperately needed God sent his people into exile for 490 years, 7 years for every Sabbath year missed while Israel was in the land (My prof Dr. Gathany did the math, not me, and I trust him). Clearly then if God is willing to subject His own people to 490 years of captivity for failing to give the land its proper rest He must deeply care about rest. As Christians that desire to follow the example of our Lord and the teachings of Yahweh why do we not follow the commandments he specifically states and care for the Land He has given us? Why do we not treasure the Sabbath rest as a gift? 

     I put a poem in my blog to urge me (And whoever else chooses to read this crazy blog) to move toward this longing and love of the Sabbath. Wendell Berry has a way with words that will always amaze me and move me to deeper understanding of life and nature. I highly recommend you go back now and read the poem again (If you read it at all), preferably with a good cup of tea sitting by a lake or pond and watching the sun go down. Anyway I hope this giant discussion  about rest and the Sabbath didn't bore you too much (And if it did, I highly doubt you read this sentence anyway). I'll soon post a shorter post about my trip this last weekend and some pictures from two weeks ago.   

        

Well today I started the nitty gritty side of research and sat poured over a plate of ethanol/water all day trying to identify macroinvertebrates for my study on the Boardman river, MI this summer. Macroinvertebrates for those of you who don't know (The non-science geeks among my followers, if I have any at all) are any invertebrates that can be trapped in a .5 mm (Or 500 micrometer if you prefer) net. In case you're a geek like me and are wondering, I'm specifically looking at benthic (Bottom dwelling) aquatic invertebrates (Often in their larva or nymph forms) such as caddisflies (Trichoptera), mayflies (Ephemeroptera), beetles (Coleoptera), stoneflies (Plecoptera), dragonflies (Odonata), worms (Oligochaeta), true flies (Diptera), and a few other macroinvertebrate orders. (You should look these orders up on wikipedia to more fully appreciate how amazing they are) A comparison of the number and variety of tolerant and intolerant (That is to pollution levels) species found over time at particular sites will allow me to gain some understanding as to the overall health of the stream over time. (I realize this may be boring some of my readers and if so do not be alarmed for all is not lost; fun pictures will eventually come). First, however, I need to sort and ID all these beautiful creatures, a process harder than you might think considering all of them are on the mm or cm scale. Right now I'm simply organizing them into their respective orders but eventually, I will have to key them all the way to the genus level (Review your taxonomic ranks now at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taxonomic_rank if you don't remember them). I'll post more on this stuff later if I don't receive a thousand angry comments about annoying scientific discussions on the blog.

     Anyway lots of long but fun days in the lab ahead for me and plenty of other things happening as well up here. The climate here in northern MI is currently very similar to WA and the trees remind me of home, but the bugs do not. Went fishing the other day for the first time in some 10 or so years and actually caught some fish including a 10 inch small mouth bass on Small Twin Lake (Due entirely to the wise fishing tutelage of my fellow researcher and friend Joel Betts). Caught two more fish the next day on Big Twin Lake. I put the picture here of my first catch to keep all you entertained who were profoundly bored by the entire first paragraph of this post. It also proves that I a member of the Hayes family can actually catch fish. Eventually when I get around to it, I will post pictures of my field work last week on the river and something about the books I am reading. Also I'm a groomsman in a wedding this next week so I'll probably post something about that. 

Copyright: Joel Betts

Me and a fish contemplating the meaning of life

 

Christian in his natural habitat? What is that supposed to mean? Does it mean Christian's natural habitat is Michigan, or California, maybe Honduras? Who knows, not me. I thought it was an apt title for an environmentally related blog and quite frankly, it was the only one I could come up with so you are stuck with it. If you don't like if you can , in the words of the immortal Jeeves and Wooster, "jolly well lump it." Anyway I have created this blog for several primary purposes. First I want to inform those of you who actually care as to what I am up to and where I am in the world. Second, for the more philosophical or literary minded I will be posting snippets and thoughts about things I am currently reading or thinking about. Third I wanted to create a place where I could post pictures and share thoughts about my favorite subject, the environment. If for any reason any or all of these particular goals are not to your liking I recommend you immediately remove this page from your favorites (If it is already there which I doubt) and disavow all knowledge of its existence. To tide off any of you picture lovers here are a few pictures of Au Sable Michigan where I am staying this summer (Look it up at ausable.org). It's one of the most beautiful places I've ever stayed in case you are wondering. You should be jealous. More Pictures to come of my research experiences.

The View Outside my Window

The Lodge

Louie's Pond

Earth Hall

Study Hall