Sharing my Space

In some ways I love being at the cabin more in winter than in summer. Summer is glorious (and short)—a multitude of wildflowers and wildlife—chipmunks, hummingbirds and bears—plus roaring creeks and hillsides of green aspen. But winter, with its blanket of snow and absence of people, provides peace and quiet that departs once the summer visitors arrive. Out walking on the lonely roads in winter (the season still lingering after 3 feet of snow last week), where I see almost no one, my heart fills with all the space and emptiness, and the almost depthless sky.

When the summer people start returning (in a normal year that would be in May), I feel some resentment, like they are disturbing my tranquility and invading my space—the one I’ve held all winter—through blizzards, strong winds and bone-chilling cold.

So I can partly identify with the residents of Colorado mountain towns who want to shut their doors to out-of-towners, especially city residents along the Front Range of Colorado who are trying desperately to escape their quarantines and enjoy the mountains. Residents of towns like Vail or Estes Park don't want crowds of Denverites bringing their germs and don't want them buying scarce groceries at their markets.

As both a mountain and plains dweller, I can see both sides. As someone who needs nature, I can understand why people are turning to the outdoors, now more than ever. It’s not just to escape the constrictions of their homes and neighborhoods, but to see and experience a different reality: one that is open and free and full of life now: migrating birds, fields turning green, trees leafing out, flowers starting to emerge. It makes me happy to see so many people using the trails and open space around Boulder. In one of our darkest times, people are turning to nature for comfort.

At the cabin, I’m noticing more cars around Meeker Park, more people looking for places to exercise and be in nature, especially since Rocky Mountain National Park is closed. Most will be met with “private property” signs and fences, which leaves the county roads the only place to walk.

Even as someone who has a cabin in Meeker Park, I resent these “no trespassing” signs that essentially say: This is my land, and you’re not welcome here. Places I used to explore are now closed to me, and the original inhabitants of this valley—the bears, the deer, the elk—have to climb over fences to get to the creeks or up the hills.

For those of us lucky to have a place in the mountains, I think we need to be more open to “outsiders,” more willing to share this beauty and freedom, especially now and especially to those who respect this place and the wildlife, who don’t drive fast on our narrow roads and don’t throw their beer cans on the ground. Perhaps we can see our way out of this catastrophe by focusing on the splendor of nature. Perhaps those visitors who come to our valley seeking hope and respite from the torrent of daily bad news will find it here. I hope so.

 

Comments

[shoney]

Thanks you for this perspective. I too feel fortunate to live in a beautiful place, a place many people want to visit. It looks like our beaches and parks will be closed down again, at least for the weekends....the problem is many visitors who are not honoring social distancing. It is sad that we can't just restrict the beauty to people who are respectful of others, to those committed to flattening the curve....

[Julene Bair]

Amen to this! We may think that a deed gives us the right to restrict others from enjoying the land around us, but to whatever extent we feel is safe, we ought to let others enjoy the beauty.

[Brent Zeinert]

I've been exploring areas in my neighborhood I wouldn't normally have. I've been rediscovering my neighborhood. There is so much wildlife right in my own backyard. I live at the edge of the city limits. The Town of Wausau is only a few blocks away. Farm fields with freshly spread manure is only a few steps (whiffs) away. I've been walking the country roads to see the wildlife along them. I've been observing a lot of Song sparrows and now wrens have arrived. Wild turkey, Turkey vultures, Bald eagles and Sandhill cranes are commonly observed this spring. I get excited with the sound of sandhill cranes high above in the big blue sky. I've been fascinated with Black-capped chickadees. They are my favorite year-round bird to see and hear. It should be our Wisconsin state bird over the American robin. The black-capped chickadee toughs out the long winter months, like most of us Wisconsinites. Whereas the robin is a bit of an outsider that migrates through the area when it gets warmer. On my "new" routes I've been observing a couple of Baltimore orioles that have migrated to my neighborhood just this week. There's a boardwalk through a wetland in my neighborhood that is another one of my "new" routes to see nature. They've pretty much shut down Door County to outsiders during the shelter-at-home, they don't want us there for the time being. I hope to get there this springtime to see the dwarf iris and other rare orchids. Time will tell.

[Kathy Kaiser]

Brent, you're lucky (as am I) to live so close to wild places. And lucky to see the cranes. I missed seeing them this year because of the lockdown. I agree that it makes more sense to have the chickadee be the state bird. Like you, I get cheered all winter by seeing them and hearing their call.
This morning, a Western tanager (orange and yellow) landed in the yard, as did a whole flock of chipping sparrows.
Hope you get to visit Door County soon. The county relies on tourism, so they can't keep it closed forever. I want to get back there, too, at some point and see the lake and forests. I still miss Wisconsin.

[Kathy Kaiser]

Shoney, I hear you. Wouldn't it be great if everyone respected nature as much as we do?