Earth Hour Tonight at 8:30

The World Wildlife Fund has some great ideas for tonight's Earth Hour here. Hope to see more of you out and about in the dark tonight during this hour.

Activism, slactivism, and consumer choice

Katherine Murtinko, in her post "Personal solutions can't save the planet" at Treehugger.com challenges her readers to go beyond the "be the change you want to see in the world," and to seek opportunities to join with like-minded neighbors to change the locality, region, country, and world policies that lock our destruction of the commons. Part of the reason I moved back to Arizona was the hopeful shoots of ecological awareness I saw sprouting in the distance (light rail, denser urban growth, the disappearance of pools and green lawns, and ASU's leading role in sustainability). I also was intrigued by a city in such harsh conditions facing the crisis that we all will eventually have to reckon with. This is my chance to be part of something that could bend the curve on environmental catastrophe, and a place that will only heighten the tension. Let's hope I/we are up to the challenge.

Giving the Earth Its Sabbath, and Hopefully Its Jubilee

The LORD spoke to Moses on Mount Sinai, saying, “Speak to the people of Israel and say to them, When you come into the land that I give you, the land shall keep a Sabbath to the LORD. For six years you shall sow your field, and for six years you shall prune your vineyard and gather in its fruits, but in the seventh year there shall be a Sabbath of solemn rest for the land, a Sabbath to the LORD. You shall not sow your field or prune your vineyard. You shall not reap what grows of itself in your harvest, or gather the grapes of your undressed vine. It shall be a year of solemn rest for the land. The Sabbath of the land shall provide food for you, for yourself and for your male and female slaves and for your hired servant and the sojourner who lives with you, and for your cattle and for the wild animals that are in your land: all its yield shall be for food.”

Leviticus 25:1-7

One of the things that has been a surprise to me as I look for ways to shrink my carbon footprint has been the unearthing of things from my past. When I grew up on the joint Navajo-Hopi reservation, my parents lived the life of quasi-preppers--complete with multiple gardens, mountains of dehydrated food, and guns in the house. What seemed somewhat normal to me was a curiosity to my friends. I would take them on tours of our walls of dehydrated food cans (which had everything from run-of-the-mill TVP chunks to the more exotic shrimp creole and banana cream pie cans). Because my mom was raised on a farm, and my dad always liked the idea of self-sufficiency, this web of practices didn't have quite the raced/classed/gender/politics meaning it does today when discussing "preppers." My parents had a subscription to Organic Gardening, and we had three sheds out in the back, a clothes wire, and piles of all sort of recycling and composting. It was just home to me.

Part of home was getting out into nature all of the time. Living in a small town (large for a reservation, but tiny in comparison to most towns in the U.S.), much of my free time was hiking across the desert, doing battle with ants, or hanging out at what I affectionately called the local "ponds" (which were, in reality, either drainage ditches or reservoirs). We would occasionally camp as a family, and definitely spend as much time outdoors as possible. As I have gotten older, and my academic career matured, my habits have trended indoors. My recent climate awakening has left me scrambling for ways to mitigate my footprint--much of which has happened as a result of my indoor migration. I have quickly learned that one of the best ways for me to reduce my environmental impact is to shed my house/office/car carapace, and to wander into the world unencumbered. This week, M. and I made good on a membership to Nature Kenya that I earlier purchased so that she could attend the local bird walks. Rather than stick indoors, I decided to deepen my very new knowledge of our local bird population--especially since M. had purchased a "Birds of East Africa" guide, and I had purchased and brought a schmancy pair of Nikon binoculars (incidentally--this purchase of binoculars also put me more squarely in the shadow of my father, who purchased a pair of family binoculars when I was quite young).

For this hike, our Nature Kenya group went to a place called "Paradise Lost." From the initial signage, it looks like a tourist trap.

Its history, however, is a bit more complicated. This complex of caves and lakes is surrounded by a coffee plantation. As Kenya has developed, much of this plantation has gradually given way to suburban housing development; however, the fields of coffee bushes still dominate the landscape.

Despite the prevalence of the coffee bushes, the attraction for the birds is the diversity of plants that the area water affords.

Over the course of our visit to Paradise lost, our fellow birders spotted 78 different kinds of birds. We saw a number of flycatchers, sunbirds, and kites. Even more special was spotting our first (and much-hoped-for) malachite kingfisher and cinnamon-chested bee-eater.

The highlight for the group was when we approached the Mau-Mau cave, there was a Ayer's hawk-eagle hanging out very close to the group. We took over 20 minutes trying to identify the exact species, and it was only when someone with a telephoto lens camera emailed a raptor expert that we made our positive identification.

Walking around wildlife not only reduced my carbon footprint for the day, it also helped me better identify with the animals and plants I'm hoping to impact less. Of course, the biggest benefit for me was reducing my apocalyptic panic, and replacing it with the hope that sooner than later, we will give the earth its much-deserved Sabbath.