Awe, Curiosity, and Care

In the last couple of days I've come across several things that caught my attention (in spite of the fact that I don't actually have time to "waste" on such things!) and led me to ponder Big Questions. What are Big Questions? Here's one example: How should we think about the world around us? Yeah, that's a Big Question--too big for a quick & dirty answer. But here are a couple of notes in that direction anyway.

source: New York Times

The New York Times ran an online review of an unusual new exhibit at the American Museum of Natural History. (By the way, that museum is one of the best reasons to get away from the farm for a while and visit New York City!) The exhibit looks at bioluminescence, and it looks incredibly cool! In my neck of the woods, about the only living things that give off light are fireflies, of which there were an abundance last summer. Turns out, there are beautiful, amazing creatures all over the place that are built to emit light.

My reaction to that: "Awesome!" Literally. Encountering such "Creatures of Light" (the title of the museum exhibit) triggers a spontaneous response of awe and wonder and amazement. We encounter things all around us in the world that make us drop our jaws in wide-eyed wonder.

And it doesn't stop there. The next step for a human being after sheer awe is curiosity. How does that work? How do jellyfish do that? What makes it tick? The natural move from awe to curiosity is the root of all science, all practical knowledge. And the one doesn't replace the other. We do not cease to be amazed by things, just because our curiosity leads us to understand them better, and even begin to use them.

source: New York Times

And the mind doesn't stop there. When awe leads to curiosity, and curiosity helps us begin to understand, the human being has another responsibility. We need to care for the amazing things we are just beginning to understand. Another NY Times piece reported recent studies that suggest that even small, non-lethal levels of certain pesticides can disorient bees, and contribute to colony collapse disorder. This is something we should care about, and not just if we're beekeepers. Honey bees are enormously important pollinators, and their disappearance would be catastrophic for food production generally. They are awesome, wonderful creatures (even though they don't--or shouldn't!--glow), and our curiosity has made it possible for us to work with them, and to understand what we are (unintentionally) doing to them. Now it's time to make our choices carefully.

Awe, curiosity, and care. That's how we think about the world.

More Urban Agriculture

Not too long ago, I commented in these pages on an interesting piece in The New York Times about urban gardening. Now The New Yorker, that most urbane of all periodicals, is getting in on the act. Their staff writer, Susan Orlean, has an article in a recent issue about -- are you ready? -- raising chickens. Technically, Orlean does not live in the city, but in a more rural setting where having a few hens (and a rooster by mistake) does not scandalize the neighbors. But she writes for people with a lot less green space. Even real city folks, she says, can (and maybe should) raise their own poultry.

There are some cities in the U.S. that have ordinances against keeping chickens. And it's not always easy to figure out, or learn, what the rules are where you might live.

Urban chickens need the right equipment, and perhaps the ideal place to start is the Eglu. I don't keep chickens, and I don't plan to, but if I did I would start with an Eglu--simply because it looks like something out of The Jetsons. I'm more interested in raising quail, so I might investigate whether an Eglu can be modified for those much smaller birds. (If I try that, you'll read about it here!)

There must be some kind of urban poultry movement starting, because there are blogs devoted to the subject. (Okay, I know that there are blogs devoted to every subject! My point is--chickens!? in cities!? Who knew?) You can check out TheCityChicken.com, or UrbanChickens.net, or CityChickens.com if you think I'm kidding.

Why would anybody want chickens in the tiny backyard of an Manhattan brownstone, or elsewhere in the concrete jungle? Well, for one thing, they lay eggs, and a couple of nice, fresh eggs every day is not a bad thing. But some people are attracted to these birds as pets: as objects of affection and companions. In other words, we humans seem to have a connection to other living creatures. We enjoy their company, and we care for them and feel affection for them, even if they provide us with no tangible benefits. A couple of hens, scratching at bugs and clucking contentedly in the backyard, renew that connection for us even when our lives are largely alienated from the earth we live on.

The Farm in The City

I saw this column while very far from The Farm, on a plane from Philadelphia to Zurich to be exact. It's not that often that my agricultural leanings are fed from the venerable pages of The Gray Lady. This may be another sign of something -- I'm not sure what! -- or a clue to the puzzle of this thing we call popular culture. It might mean something like this:

The line between urban and rural is not sharp and clear. Because we live on the earth, even in those densely packed, overbuilt, and artificial environments we call cities, the earth has away of breaking through and re-asserting itself. Our technology and our architecture lay a thin crust over the ground, and given the chhance, the ground will do what the ground does best: send seedlings up through cracks in the pavement.

I suppose someone will quibble that the New York Times piece on tomatoes in Brooklyn is not really about farming but about "gardening," as if the two are clearly distinguishable. But what is a city garden but a farm painted on a very small canvas, and what is a farm but a garden that got out of hand? Both share the same media, the same instincts, the same struggles, the same culture. My favorite little magazine Hobby Farms is launching a new publication called Urban Farm, which sounds like an oxymoron, but is really just another clue in this puzzle i'm trying to work out.

I remember sitting in a classroom in western Kenya while my students scribbled away on their final exams. Looking out the window I savored the sight of the lush Kisii hill country in the distance and the bountiful vegetation surrounding the building. Vines had found their way in through one of the windows, and seemed to be flourishing happily inside the room. I got the impression that, in Africa at least, all our development and building amounts to little more than a temporary clearing of the natural growth on the hills. As soon as we turn our backs, the vines are in at the windows and start their work of reclaiming this little patch of earth.