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To talk about intangible things is difficult because they
are hard to define, explain or measure. You can measure soil, and
you can measure water and trees, but it is very difficult to
measure intangible values.
Intangible values are those that stir the emotions; that
influence our happiness and content; that make life worth living.
We talk about the practical considerations of conservation, and
they are important, too. Back of all concrete considerations,
however, are always other factors that we call the intangibles.
Their values are so involved and integrated in all conservation
work that it is impossible to separate them.
Aldo Leopold said, "Conservation means the development
of an ecological conscience." What I think he meant was that
unless humans develop a feeling for our environment and understand
it; unless we become at one with it and realize our stewardship;
unless we appreciate all the intangible values embraced in our
environment, we cannot understand the basic need for conservation.
It is easier for me to think of the intangibles with respect
to water than most other resources, for I've always lived close to
it. When I say "water," I instinctively think of my own
country, the Quetico-Superior and the wilderness canoe country
along the international border with Canada. What is the importance
of that country, its timber, its vast deposits of iron and other
resources? There is no denying the part they play in our economy,
but when I think of it, I remember the vistas of wilderness
waterways, the solitude, the quiet and the calling of the loons.
They are the intangible values that some day in the future, with
our zooming population, may far outshadow all others in
importance.
Water, and I think of Izaak Walton and the line in the
stained glass window of the cathedral at Winchester, England,
where he is buried. There are only four words in that line, "Study
to be quiet," but they embody his whole philosophy and way of
life. Life was a search for tranquility and peace, clear evidence
of his communion with the outdoors. No mention of the number of
fish he caught, only the quiet and a hint of the intangible value
of the things he wrote about.
I visited Crater Lake, Ore., last summer and remember its
startlingly blue water, its high peaks and shining snowfields. I
remember especially how it looked in the early morning when it was
half covered with mist. It is one of the most dramatic vistas on
the continent and possibly in the world. Intangible values? You
bring them away with you but you cannot explain them.
I remember a little trout stream from a long time ago. I
followed it to the headwaters on the advice of an American Indian
who told me I would find a pool that no one had ever fished. I
found that pool after looking for it two whole days. I have never
been back there and I do not want to go back because I've heard
that the pool has changed.
There were great trees around the pool -- primeval yellow
birch, huge white pines and hemlocks. It was a rock pool, and I
climbed out on a ledge and looked down into the water that was
clear and deep. Down on the bottom were schools of speckled trout,
just lying there fanning their fins and waiting for a fly. I
remember tossing a pine cone to the surface and how the water
exploded with rising trout. I sat on that ledge for a long time
and watched them and the great trees around the pool, and I
thought to myself, "This is something perfect and unchanged,
this is part of America as it used to be." |
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There were no dollar values around that pool, only the
intangibles.
And what about wildlife and the intangibles there? Do you
duck hunters remember how many you shot last year, or the year
before? No, but you do remember the sound of wings in the dawn or
at dusk. You remember as though it were yesterday that mallard hen
quacking far out in the rice, and how the rushes looked when they
were gold against the blue water.
Have you ever stood in a stand of virgin timber where it is
very quiet and the only sounds are the twittering of nuthatches
and the kinglets way up in the tops? John Muir once said, "The
sequoias belong to the solitudes and the millenniums." I was
in the sequoias not so long ago and it was a spiritual experience.
To realize that those great trees were mature long before
the continent was discovered, that their lives reached back to the
beginnings of western civilization was sobering to a short-lived
man and his ambitions.
We need trees. We need them for our mills, for industry, for
paper. We must have them for our particular kind of civilization.
They are an important factor in our economy. But let us not forget
that there are other values in trees beside the practical, values
that may be more important in the long run.
It is predicted that by 1970 there will be a fifth mouth to
feed at every table of four. What is that going to do to our way
of life? What is it going to do to the places where a man can
still find silence and peace?
Much of my time is spent in the effort to preserve the
wilderness regions of the United States. They are the wild areas
set aside by the states and the federal governments as forest and
parks. A constant effort is necessary to save them from
exploitation. We are fighting to preserve this less than one
percent of our total land area. We are thinking of those places
not only in terms of the physical resources within them but of
their spiritual resources and intangible values.
The fact that last year 46 million people visited our
national parks, and more than 30 million visited our national
forests, indicates that there a hunger, a need in the American
people to renew their associations with unspoiled nature.
And so when we talk about intangible values, remember that
they cannot be separated from others. The conservation of water,
forest, soils and wildlife are all involved with the conservation
of the human spirit. The goal we all strive toward is happiness,
contentment, the dignity of the individual and the good life. This
goal will elude us forever if we forget the importance of the
intangibles.
-With the kind permission of Zachary Hoskins, Editor,
Izaak Walton League of America magazine, Outdoor America,
Winter 2000 |
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