October 27

 

Hereford, Arizona

 

Hope. Merriam-Webster’s definition of hope is, “to cherish a desire with anticipation”. It’s an interesting definition and I wonder if it is truly accurate.  Can there be hope in ‘cherishing a desire’, but without anticipation? 

 

When I tell people that I’m traveling to Africa, I’m often asked whether there’s anything special that I hope to see. I believe that’s how serious birders think of a life list - a scorecard that they use to keep count of bird species, as though it was a competition.  As though they were collecting sightings and the birder with the biggest collection of confirmed sightings wins… something.

 

This is different for me. For sure, there are animals that I’d love to see, animals that I’ve not seen in the wild. But for me the main thing is to be open to the experience and let whatever comes happen. If one is open to it, there is always something rich and fascinating, right in front of you. Impala for example. Impala are incredibly common in Kruger, and you’ll see so many that they can become invisible. But if you make yourself stop and really see them, they are little jewels. They are strikingly beautiful, with subtle color, graceful form and soft brown eyes. They are also beautifully adapted to survive in this environment and that’s why there are so damned many of them. It’s a wonder, really. They are perfect.

 

The point here is that if one approaches the bush with an open appreciation for all of it - the trees, the spiders, the birds (especially the birds), the reptiles, the mammals - there will always be something to watch and marvel at and learn from.

 

That doesn’t mean though that I don’t have ‘hopes’ for this trip. As a joke, I’ve given my guide Luke a list of expectations - a photographer’s ‘brief’ - which includes photographing a pangolin birth, leopard cubs in beautiful morning light playing with mother in a hollowed out tree stump, a black mamba, and wild dogs bringing down a full-grown cape buffalo. None of this is likely to happen. 

 

More broadly, I hope for a world where there is room for all these creatures, even the ones that are inconvenient to people. I hope that there is a place for elephants, which require a lot of space and don’t respect boundaries or people’s crops or homes.  I hope for a place for rhinos, who have the extreme misfortune of evolving with a keratin horn that for some reason people associate with magical properties. I hope for the predators, who often wreak havoc on the livestock of the poor people unfortunate enough to inhabit their neighborhoods, and I hope for vultures who are careening toward extinction because they can’t differentiate a carcass that’s been poisoned from one that hasn’t as they fulfill their role of nature’s clean-up crew.  

 

I’ve been lucky enough to meet young conservationists.  It lifts my heart to be exposed to their spirit of optimism. But I’m not optimistic.  I see nothing in human history that gives me reason to expect that we won’t continue to destroy the planet and everything in it, as fast as humanly possible. But somehow, I do have hope - I cherish the desire - without the anticipation. I have to. It’s too painful to accept a world where we consciously, with full knowledge, stand by and watch all of this come to an end. I just can’t.

 

And if you feel that way, don’t give up. Do something. Whatever it is that you can do. Give money. Go visit and help to create an economic incentive for poor countries to want to keep nature alive. Teach your children and tell your friends why this is important. Vote. Do whatever you can do. It doesn’t have to be hard, but it must be mindful and purposeful. Human history is not created by a few leaders. It’s created by change in the hearts of millions.

 

 Imagine a world where elephants only exist in zoos.  Imagine a world where lions are privately owned pets. Imagine a world where your children and grandchildren will never have an opportunity to experience the sound of a leopard sawing at night. Please, do your part.