I travelled the world for three decades to document the beauty of nature and the dignity of indigenous cultures. I would always research my next destination for assignment with the goal of capturing photos and writing magazine stories, while looking for conservation themes that became pages of checklists for future assignments. The preparation for these trips always seemed endless: cleaning the plethora of camera bodies, lenses, underwater housings, and gathering the appropriate clothing that took up only a tiny portion of the check-in bags, compared to the containers with my precious photo equipment. I enjoyed the excitement of catching the next flight, looking up to the sky watching other travelers flying out to distant countries. It was always exhilarating. As an underwater photographer, I had more fish and reefs to discover and new experiences to have.
Many locations took me a day, or two, to reach. Upon arrival, time to unpack and get a little rest, if I could get past the thrill of knowing I would be blowing bubbles in the ocean or walking remote trails in a forest. So many people have asked “Where is your favorite place?” I always reply that it depends on if I’m looking for large marine life or big cats on the hunt. But in my heart, my favorite is Papua New Guinea and the surrounding island nations that make up Melanesia. After thirty-six visits, it became more apparent that it was the people who filled me with joy. I developed close relationships and wantoks, friends in their language of Tok Pisin. I’ve watched little children grow up to have their own families and learned about their relationship to the ocean or to the forest.
The past several years have been difficult. COVID put a hold on travel. Besides how could I possibly think of being a carrier, although fully vaccinated, and risk bringing in this virus to small villages bereft of medical care to adequately protect wantoks. It was during this down time, while watching the movie “Don’t Look Up” from the comfort of my own couch, that I was startled to see one of my own very short video clips of a wantok paddling his canoe up a river. I shot this on a pristine river near the beautiful resort Tufi, located on a picturesque peninsula in the Oro Province.
How can I not travel back to see the magic of Tufi, Kimbe Bay and many of the other diverse marine environments of PNG? How can I not walk along the shores of the Bismarck Sea or trails in the mountains to watch wildlife? How can I no longer sit with my wantoks around a meal and hear their stories and hug the children? I needed this social and environmental connection. “It’s time” I tell myself, “to look around in my own backyard.” If I can’t get that social fix I need, I can at least seek my environmental yearnings.
As I look around, I’m surrounded by roads, new building developments and tech companies bringing in large numbers of new employees each month. I can walk or drive to any urban/suburban convenience in the Evergreen State, but it’s not nature. As I look around, I can see mountains in the distance. But my artistic eye is attuned to intimately probing nature through my lenses. As I look around, what is now clear is that I can walk around our community’s own forest and take notice of the trees, birds, fluffy rabbits and even a bobcat, now and then. I’ve come to enjoy this as my nature exploration for now.
Bobcat kit climbing a tree in the backyard.
I sit comfortably on the steps to my deck, in a chair while holding a morning cup of coffee or an evening glass of wine and I realize that those “little brown birds,” which most people just look past, have beauty, meaning and purpose. Actually, I had the privilege of doing much the same at Kumul Lodge in the mountains of Enga Province in PNG. There, I was jumping up and down for joy at seeing a Brown Sicklebill or a Ribbon-Tailed Astrapia, both species of Birds of Paradise. Now, from this local perspective, I’ve come to appreciate our resident species as equally valuable and interesting as those PNG exotics.
Ribbon-tailed Astrapia – PNG
While we are increasingly concerned with the loss of biodiversity caused by destruction of forests and rivers around the globe, vital components of local ecosystems are right here, right now and thriving in our own neighborhood. Look around. It is important that our neighborhoods maintain habitat that support our local wildlife. We diminish the native plants because we want a “pretty” yard containing large lawns and ground covers that snake into the protected areas only to swallow up the ferns and shrubs that keep a balance within the bird and rodent populations. We lose significant landmark trees because we ignore the fact that imported species can carry insects from another country but eat away at the trunks and leaves.
Taking care of our own small territory comprised of 81 homes and 30 acres, which are identified as Native Growth Protection Areas, should keep us occupied with caring and appreciating what a jewel we have. We should appreciate a pileated woodpecker, the largest of our four species of woodpeckers, and a creature that eats native insects like carpenter ants. To watch the couple – yes, they mate for life – is extraordinary and every bit exciting as looking for species in PNG. Pileated woodpeckers are our “Birds of Paradise.” Their antics are hilarious. Squawking calls, machine gun style pecking to mark territory, making a nest in a tree snag, and feeding their young is an honor.
There are so many other wildlife species in the backyard. Here in North America, we vilify racoons for raiding our garbage. We run away with fear from coyotes. We even think of little squirrels, such as the protected Douglas, as rodents that invade our homes. It’s time we look around and protect what nature has given us.
Our planet is experiencing a growing biodiversity crisis; it is important that we look around and notice what we have. Observing, photographing, documenting and communicating the natural wonders that we see in our own communities is rewarding. More important, awareness is the first step in changing behaviors that are impacting natural habitat decline.
STAY TUNED FOR MY SAMMY/SAMMIE PACIFIC GIANT SALAMANDER STORY.
If you can’t wait, watch for a mention in my next blog post or check out my Facebook page.