Happy Birthday to Everyone: Why I Became a Master Naturalist to Gift to Others

Although I was in a tropical jungle, I was wearing three layers. The damp chill of the Monteverde Cloud Forest – sitting astride the mile-high continental divide – was bone-felt persistent, even in the dry season. At the time, our family was taking a winter vacation in Costa Rica. Since we were home schooling in those days, we were able to visit the Central American paradise in January.

Even with a local guide, my excitement was tempered. Would I be jumped by a jaguar or encounter a centipede the size of a Subaru? The platinum bonus, though, was far more elusive.

My guide Jose, with his jungle-attuned ears, was searching for the resplendent quetzal (above), an endangered bird that’s a riot of colors. I’m not sure how he would see this avian ruby amid the mixed palette of colors in the cloud forest or hear its modest squawk in the cacophony of monkey howls and insect buzzing. But then, he pointed his spotting scope toward the treetops…

“There’s a quetzal,” he exclaimed. Through the scope I saw the firework flicker of radiant colors on wing. Such was one of my first adult initiations as a citizen naturalist.

I recently became a Master Naturalist, which is certified by the University of Illinois Extension. I am now a volunteer nature educator on a variety of topics. I’ve given my first nature walk and will do many more. For my birthday week, I’ve decided to prioritize gifting others by enlightening them on the web of life throughout the remaining years of my life.

First, let me disabuse you of my mastery of natural science and observation. There are thousands of plant, fungal and animal species I can’t identify (yet). What I yearn to know is as deep as the Pacific Ocean. Nevertheless, I will educate others on the many endangered species in our biodiverse county, which hosts more threatened plants and animals than any other county in the Prairie State. I also hope to engage in citizen science, environmental protection, local food production and climate activism as if the world depended on it. It does.

I can honestly tell you, though, I was never an ideal candidate to become a naturalist. Unlike E. O. Wilson, instead of revering and studying ants and sociobiology, my near-delinquent boyhood employed the abuse of magnifying glasses to “observe” ants. Although I’m an Eagle Scout, I’ve put in too many road miles and mowed too many lawns to qualify as a legitimate student of the natural world. While, like most kids in the 1960s, I had a bug and small rock collection, I was more focused on rockets, firecrackers and swimming.

Unlike the great naturalist Alexander Von Humboldt, I had no interest in climbing volcanoes, trekking across the Amazon or Siberia. The closest I got to an alpine summit was the half-mile peaks of Slieve Donard and Croagh Patrick in Ireland. (No supplemental oxygen or Sherpa guides required). I’m perfectly happy being a flatlander. And the thought of sailing to explore our vast oceans, mountains, deserts or jungles gives me nausea. I’d rather have my teeth drilled without anesthetic (this has happened) than sled across the Antarctic. My hands and feet get cold when the temperature is under 70 degrees.

In short, I’m a wuss: A pathetic candidate to be in the company of Charles Darwin. John Muir and Rachel Carson. Yet there’s something spiritual about wanting to teach others about our tenuous relationship with Mother Earth. While my nature knowledge is a mile wide and a millimeter deep, I’m ready to ascend the Mt. Everest of learning to assault my ignorance. Here’s my method: I’m starting with our suburban yard to inventory plant and animal species both native and invasive. I’m photographing and drawing them. I have a decent start, but I’m only at base camp. I’ve read lots of books, attended conferences and classes to feed my curiosity. Field work, though, is an essential part of my knowledge journey.

Biodiversity, carbon emissions and loss of habitat top my worry list. While I’m not seeking adventure in a remote country, I am working on habitat restoration in my own neighborhood and county. That’s climate action on a hyperlocal level. I share this concern with the late, great naturalist E.O. Wilson: “Species are growing extinct in growing numbers…the biosphere is imperiled, humanity is depleting the ancient storehouses of biological diversity.”

Next, I will see how my hyperlocal flora and fauna integrate with our watersheds, bioregion, continent and global ecosystems. I will focus on saving pollinators, promoting nutrient-enriching plants and creating soil for regenerative food production. I’m already a nascent legislative activist in this space, yet there’s so much more we need to do to establish a local and national sustainable food and land management policy. I’m also a fervent student of green architecture, infrastructure and urban planning. This is the big-picture stuff that will demand a higher degree of connection with farmers, researchers, policymakers, planners, elected officials (like me) and environmentalists. In my view, even in the midst of a housing crisis, attainable domiciles should be green and clean, in addition to being affordable.

If I can be an effective communicator on these topics to my neighbors, I will feel an ant-like triumph. I’ve already started. Two nights ago, I talked to crowd of thousands of country-music lovers on how our county is the most biodiverse in the state — and why we should work together to protect it. I may not discover a single new species of bug or fungi, yet I do know something about legislation and government policy to protect our environment. One project I am involved in garnered more than $1 million in funding for a wetland restoration and plant nursery,

Most of all, I will seek a better partnership -– and kinship -- with bugs, birds, the land, air and water. And people! I am here to learn and gift knowledge (and a few songs). If wisdom comes my way, every day will be a rebirth. I will share it to build community. We can find peace in seeds, but we need to do much more planting to heal our relationship with the mother of our creation — and ourselves.

Vincit Omnia Veritas

(Truth Conquers All)

Thanks for reading and please share! If you enjoy my humble thoughts, please upgrade to a paid subscription. To contact me about speaking and writing or offer even more dangerous ideas, email me: johnwasik@gmail.com.

This essay was not produced by AI. I am a sentient writer, journalist, author, environmentalist, speaker, musician and elected county forest preserve commissioner who’s written 19 books and contributed to The New York Times, Next Avenue, Bloomberg and Reuters.

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