My attitude towards the environment is primarily motivated by what I like to think of as a childish wonder about the world. Ever since I was young, I have been fascinated by the whimsy and mystery of nature. I remember collecting bugs in my backyard and marveling at their strange shapes and colors, or gazing up at towering trees and pondering how something could live on such a different timeline than myself. Most recently, this wonder has manifested itself in a passion for birdwatching. I’ve traveled across the country in search of migrating birds, and even had the opportunity to spend the entirety of late summer researching Flammulated Owls in the Manitou Experimental Forest. I am fascinated by the dynamics of migration; how a small bird will travel thousands of miles in short timeframes under brutal conditions, linking continents and people and ecosystems through their journeys.

My love for birds and nature, of course, is coupled with a concern about their well being. When I read about climate change, my first worry, perhaps selfishly, is for the animal life and ecosystems that I have come to love. I think I naturally follow a philosophy that non-human species have an intrinsic worth to themselves, and deserve to survive and thrive just as we humans deserve to survive and thrive. It’s hard for me to not anthropomorphize other species, I grew up imagining that animals had thoughts as complex and interesting as our own. When I saw Flammulated Owls caring for their young this summer, I couldn’t help but project my own values about family and care onto their behavior. When I read about how crows and elephants will mourn their dead, I can’t help but think of them as equally capable of emotion as our own species. With this mindset, the idea that these other animals have the same intrinsic worth that we have is a given.