write one page summery
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up north. And why the trees in their very own backyards
are protected. So we offer new residents an environmental
orientation program. . . . We travel around the island by
trolley, looking at the natural systems and talking about land
restoration strategies. I take them by boat into the estuary so
they can understand our “islandness” a little better.”
Anders leans forward in her chair, intent as she describes
the foundation’s corps of more than 300 volunteers: “People
have an innate sense of protectiveness about our wildlife, our
nature—that’s nothing I’ve caused to happen.”
A desire to preserve has run high on this twelve–mile
crescent of sand and shell. J.N. “Ding” Darling, a Pulitzer
Prize-winning political cartoonist, was a powerful force in
allowing Sanibel a better fate than its sister island, Marco.
With his leadership, residents in 1945 began acquiring
pockets of land for a refuge; in 1967 they succeeded in
creating a national wildlife refuge named for Darling, which
now protects better than half the island. By the mid-1960s,
southwest Florida’s building explosion had breached the
island’s tranquility, thanks to a three-mile causeway between
Sanibel and the mainland that was constructed against the
islanders’ wishes. Mangrove forests were leveled, wildlife
habitat destroyed, and sewage dumped into the island pristine
waters. Sanibel’s residents voted to incorporate themselves
as a city in 1974 to control development and to preserve the
island’s unique balance of humans and nature. “It really
is quite extraordinary that we’ve been able to remain true
to the original Sanibel plan adopted in 1976,” says Sanibel
Planning Director Bruce Rogers. “I credit the high quality
of our elected leadership over the years—no one runs against
the plan.
“But anytime you do regulation, you have to put equal
time into education, otherwise it’s never going to work,”
says Rogers. “That’s why the work of the Sanibel-Captiva
Conservation Foundation and the refuge are so important in
carrying out our programs.”
When Anders began her work on Sanibel—first at the
wildlife refuge and, since 1988, at the foundation—she’d
completed a double major in marine science and outdoor
education at Penn State and was well-prepared to “stand on
the shoulders of the giants,” as she call Ding Darling and
Sanibel’s other conservation leaders. But she credits her
passion for nature to her early mentors—her grandmother and
father, in particular. “We lived in central Pennsylvania, in the
woods near a creek, and we were always outdoors, looking at
every flower and leaf, canoeing, hiking,” says Anders. “They
really got me to ask questions.”
How well Anders shares her knowledge and passion on
Sanibel is impossible to quantify, even with enthusiastic course
evaluations. “Ultimately, we’ll only know if we’ve succeeded
when we can answer affirmatively questions like "Can Pine
Island Sound (the estuary on the bay side of Sanibel) remain
healthy?” she says.
Meanwhile, Anders wishes she could do more. “Every
single Thursday morning, member of the realtors’ association
meet for breakfast and then caravan to view all the new
multiple listings,” she says. “I’d love to be on that bus, looking
at the landscapes with them, pointing out where mangroves
are being trimmed legally and where they’re not, and where
native plants are used in the landscape.
Just outside her office, Kristie Anders looks at an
enormous satellite photo covering a wall of the foundation’s
conference room. In the darkened room, Sanibel Island
floats emerald, enchanting, seamless. “This is how an osprey
might see it,” Anders says. “Why not do it their way and
look at the big picture, the needs of the natural as well as the
human-built community?”
She stares at her island, lost in through. “We think what
we’re doing on Sanibel is do-able anywhere,” she says. “It
doesn’t matter if your town is known as Sanibel is, for its
well-kept environment. Maybe what you’ve got is a special
cultural identity or a thriving downtown.” What’s important,
says Anders, is telling the stories behind the unique aspects of
our communities.
“All [the qualities] that set communities apart and define
their sense of place are what we’re losing to ‘the blob’ of sprawl
and unsustainable development,” she says. “If you want to
preserve what’s special about your community, find its stories,
and then share them with everyone who lives there. In my
case, although I didn’t write the Sanibel story, I get to tell it.”
— Susan Cerulean writes from the Red Hills bioregion of north Florida. The Book
of the Everglades, her latest anthology, was published by Milkweed Editions in
July 2002.
pu s h fo r ch a n g e
By Ann Sihler
What is the sound of 50 push mowers clipping the grass of
a major city park? We — a group of nine ecologically-minded
friends who now call ourselves Push for Change — asked this
Zen- like question in 1994. We answered it the next spring when
we organized a “mow-in” at Portland’s famed Tom McCall
Waterfront Park. After getting a permit from the city’s Parks
Department, we invited the public to help us mow a section of
the park to demonstrate clean, quiet lawn care.
The idea for the mow-in came about after the
members of Push for Change began meeting
casually to discuss environmental issues and
the philosophy and practices of an ecologically
sound society. Before forming as a group,
each of us had decided personally that
it was important to live a more
sustainable lifestyle. Some of
us were professionally
involved in “earth-
friendly” activities such as recycling, organic gardening, or
environmental education. Others were vegetarians, frequent
bicycle commuters, or garage-sale shoppers. Although the depth
and type of our commitment to sustainable living varied, as
a group we found ourselves much in agreement. Eventually
we saw that what we really wanted was to affect the choices
of people outside our own group — to have a wider, more
direct influence on people than simply the example of our own
behavior. We wanted to take action!
The actions we discussed ran the gamut from supporting
political campaigns to what we called “reverse vandalism” —
planting a tree in someone’s yard during the dead of night, for
example.
Somehow we kept coming back to lawn mowers. All of
us owned and enjoyed using push mowers and considered the
pollution, noise, and petroleum consumption of gas-powered
mowers unnecessary for the maintenance of many Portland
lawns. We thought that demonstrating a clean, silent, and
healthy way to care for lawns would gently remind people to
reconsider their lifestyle choices.
What we didn’t expect was the fun it would be. After
organizing two mow-ins, we have found push mower users to
be a devoted, enthusiastic lot eager to show off their scythes and
antique mowers, their brand new models, or plain ol’ garage-sale
specials. Attendance almost doubled from the first year to the
second, and the event expanded to include a mower maintenance
clinic. Media attention also increased — exponentially, with
National Public Radio’s Weekend Edition doing a spot on push
mowers versus gas-powered ones. Locally, we rejected sponsorship
by Portland General Electric, which was offering rebates on
electric or push mowers for people trading in gas mowers.
If we had known how successful and fun an event such as
the mow-in would be, we would have organized one earlier!
— Ann Sihler is editor of The Association of Oregon Recyclers' Newsletter.
fac t s a B o u t ge e s e
By Angeles Arrien from Insight and Action
Milton Olsen (the Naturalist) said it’s very
interesting that, particularly with geese, we have a lot
to learn about collectives.
Fact one: As each bird flaps its wings, it
creates an uplift for the birds following it.
By flying in a V-formation, the whole flock
adds 71 percent greater flying range than if
the bird flew alone. Many indigenous cultures recognize that
there’s a lot I can do by myself, there’s a lot I can do with a
partner, but the power of what I can get done with a collective
is quantum. It’s a mega-step, it’s a mega movement. The lesson
from this fact: people who share a common direction and sense
of community can get where they’re going quicker and easier
because they’re traveling on the thrust of one another. That’s a
universal collective lesson.
Fact number two About Geese: Whenever a goose falls
out of formation it suddenly feels the drag and resistance of
trying to fly alone and quickly gets back into formation to take
advantage of the lifting power of the bird immediately in front.
Lesson: If we have as much sense as a goose, we will stay in
formation with those who are headed where we want to go and
be willing to accept their help, as well as give ours to others.
Fact number three: When the lead goose gets tired, it
rotates back into the formation and another goose flies at the
point position. An invaluable lesson for us to apply to all group
work. It pays to take turns doing the hard tasks and sharing
leadership. With people as with geese, we are interdependent
on each others’ skills and capabilities and unique arrangements
of gifts, talents, resources, or what indigenous societies call the
“good, true, and beautiful.”
Fact number Four: The geese in formation honk
from behind to encourage those in front to keep up their
speed. Lesson: we need to make sure our honking from
behind is encouraging. And not something else. In
groups where there is greater encouragement against great
odds, the production is much greater — the power of
encouragement. Now, I love the word courage because it
means “to stand by one’s heart, to stand by one’s core.” To
encourage someone else’s core, to encourage someone else’s
heart — that quality of honking.
Fact number Five: When a goose gets sick, or wounded, or
shot down, two geese drop out of formation and follow it down
to help and protect it. They stay with it until it is able to fly again
or dies. Then they launch out on their own with another
formation or catch up with the flock. Lesson: if we have
as much sense as geese, we too will stand by each other
in difficult times as well as when we are strong. And
I think it’s important that one of the things indigenous
cultures have done for years is that they look to nature
as an outer mirror of one’s own internal nature. And
so as we begin to learn about collectives of animals and
their patterns, perhaps we have some tools, techniques,
methodologies about community and about collective
work and group work.
— “Facts About Geese” is from a talk by Angeles Arrien to the Organization Development
Network, 1992. Arrien is a cultural anthropologist, award-winning author, educator and
consultant to many organizations and businesses.
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