Sense of wonder in the field
Where science and spirituality meet
What is the “Sense of Wonder?” For me, it involves observing the unexpected, becoming fascinated with the unknown, and contemplating questions and their possible answers. It is something both science and spirituality can have in common. It also has appropriately played an important role in where the Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge is today.
I previously lived and taught environmental education in southern coastal Maine near the Goosefare Brook Division of the Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge, where I helped create the Friends of Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge (a.k.a. “Friends,” for short) in 1987 to support the Refuge and its goals. I am also a caretaker for two Audubon sanctuaries in Mid-Coast Maine as well as a biology teacher in a nearby school district. Both Audubon Sanctuaries include similar habitats to Rachel Carson NWR−upland fields and forests, freshwater, salt marsh, and brackish water− except in Mid-Coast Maine, the mudflats tend to be larger and the salt marshes smaller.
As I contemplated writing this blog in early August, I headed to one of my favorite sanctuary spots where the beauty born from the mix of habitats reminds me of the special areas within the Rachel Carson Refuge. This location, which I sometimes call “the first bench,” is a special one within the Hamilton Audubon Sanctuary, as many years ago a local newspaper used a photo depicting the view from the bench for an article on a local religious leaders’ conference about spirituality and nature. It didn’t disappoint.
The tide was coming in, and in front of me was a beautiful Great Blue Heron along with three Yellowlegs Sandpipers. Although I did not have binoculars or a camera, I carefully watched. Would the deliberately cautious steps of the heron through the shallow water lead to a meal? Were these Yellowlegs already migrating? Was their rapid bill action through the shallows yielding the nourishment needed to survive the upcoming migration? The late afternoon light was perfect, the tide was in, and a beautiful cloud formation was reflecting off the placid water, just as I loved to reflect from this spot.
Another thing I’ve reflected on from this spot is my good friend Bill Silliker Jr., who tragically died 17 years ago at the too young age of 56 years doing what he enjoyed most- photographing nature. Bill was the founding president of the Friends while I was its founding vice president. The Friends organized to help protect important wildlife habitat in and around the Rachel Carson Refuge from the development that rapidly encroached on it during the 1980s. Bill worked for an insurance company at the time, but he also loved photography, once telling me that he was really an artist and photography was his medium. He recognized that people wouldn’t value the Goosefare Brook Marsh without learning about what was there and why it was important.
He used his camera and its photographs to help tell that story. As a novice wildlife photographer, Bill read about it and spent hours in the Goosefare Brook marsh with his camera. Sometimes I joined him and gladly helped with identification and information. His enthusiasm, sense of wonder, and love for the wildlife and their habitats carried him and his message. At his public slideshows people learned of all the secretive wildlife and special plants that depended on the brook, salt marsh, and its surrounding upland. Bill once admitted at one of his early slideshows in Saco, “I don’t know what this [unidentified plant pictured] is, but it’s beautiful and needs to be protected.”
Bill’s enthusiasm for nature photography, the critters he photographed and conservation was infectious. At the time of his tragic death, Bill had fully transitioned his career from insurance to wildlife photography. He was considered one of the top, if not the top wildlife photographer in the state of Maine, having sold his photos to many publications, published books, hosted and produced television shows, and taught nature photography classes.
It was during a nature photography class trip he was leading in Baxter State Park during October to photograph moose that Bill collapsed and died from a massive heart attack. Upon reaching one of his special moose photography spots, his final words were reportedly something like, “This is my church, this is my sanctuary.” A doctor and nurse in the group immediately started CPR but were not able to revive him.
Bill’s death was devastating on many levels. His work in conservation and photography would be missed, while I and many others had lost a good friend. His legacies would be many, including what the Friends group he started was able to do for Rachel Carson NWR. The Refuge itself had grown from being a satellite of Parker River NWR with minimal staffing to independent status with added Divisions, extended acquisition zones, more protected wildlife habitat, and more appropriate staffing. For example, a new Biddeford Pool Division was added to the original nine Divisions with much help from the Friends. The Goosefare Brook Division had expanded from an acquisition zone of 180-some acres with less than an acre protected, to an acquisition zone of over 500 acres with hundreds of acres protected.
Shortly after I received the sad news in 2003, I went to the first bench spot to contemplate the loss of my friend. It was late afternoon in mid-October, the tide was in, the foliage was in full color, and the low late afternoon light showcased it brilliantly. Bill had a saying: “Catch yours in the good light.” For him, this was often the lower sunlight within the couple hours after sunrise or the couple hours before sunset. That October afternoon was a fitting tribute to Bill and his photography because the conditions made the view as beautiful as any spot on the face of this earth.
Looking at the view from that first bench, one could explain the habitat’s importance with science, driven by a sense of wonder…
The mudflat cove and its fringing salt marsh are incredibly productive ecosystems because of the nutrients carried in by the tides, as well as washed in from freshwater flowing from the surrounding uplands. The cove protects these sensitive areas from wave action. This creates habitat for waterfowl breeding and wintering, as well as for migratory shorebird feeding and resting. Small juvenile fish feed among the grasses at high tide. Ribbed mussels burrow partially into the marsh where they filter water for their food. The surrounding upland forest buffers the coastal wetlands, helping to maintain water quality. This provides a critical edge that protects the salt marsh and cove habitats much like a roof protects a house.
…Or, from that first bench, one could just contemplate with a sense of wonder the amazing beauty of the place, the peaceful feeling it evokes, the feeling of connection to nature, and the joy of being there, and thus recognize the importance of protecting special places like this and the Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge.
Glenn Evans teaches Biology at Mt. Ararat High School in Topsham, Maine, where a number of his students have been assigned Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring over the years and engage in outdoor scientific research. With his wife, Marianne Warner, he is a caretaker for Maine Audubon’s Newman Sanctuary and the Hamilton Sanctuary in West Bath, where they raised their twin daughters. Glenn currently serves as Vice President for the Friends of Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge.
This blog is part of a series celebrating 50 years of conservation at Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge by reflecting on the legacy of the famed conservationist.
