(above: a relatively smallish mountain rises from new zealand farmland on the north island. mountains make up about two-thirds of new zealand’s south island and a fifth of the north island due to the country’s position at the intersection of tectonic plates.)

nature is a revelation. what is it about her wide open spaces and infinitely interwoven details that inspires such transcendence in creatures like us? how is it that her landscapes can force out all our self-importance and replace it with awe?

i first experienced the shrinking sensation nature induces when i journeyed to alaska as a sixth-grader. i thought mountains always stood in nice straight lines until i flew at dusk over the frontier, craggy spires jutting through miles of silky, rose-colored snow to the horizon. since then, i’ve wandered over more wild terrain than i once thought existed. the most memorable, though, may be the ink black nights in australia’s outback. the sky was so wide i got dizzy and had to lie on my back in the scrub; yet barely another star could have fit in among the spinning constellations.

small.

we pretend to know a lot about the world. of course, people always have been a little overly confident that way. we look back and laugh at them for thinking they knew so much. i don’t know who will look back on us; but i’m pretty sure we won’t have the last laugh.

earth day is a good time to remember the relatively tiny niche we fill on a relatively tiny planet. (apparently, it’s also a good time for big companies to earn big bucks by telling us how to shrink our environmental footprint by consuming more of their products! fascinating.) it’s vital that we learn to take care of the natural gifts we’ve been given. i mean, what else do we have?

it’s equally important — no, even more important — that we ask ourselves the big question, why is the natural world worth taking care of in the first place? for me, it isn’t enough to site my enjoyment of outdoor recreation. i can’t just point to the majesty of national parks and impressive animals. plenty of people haven’t gotten to know nature and wouldn’t miss wildlife it it were gone tomorrow. sure, nature performs valuable functions for society that we take for granted; but then who’s to argue if we wield it for our purposes at the expense of other creatures?

perhaps nature answers for itself when it speaks to us in that transcendent voice. when i listen, i hear it telling me there’s something beyond the natural — something that lends its glory and intrinsic value to what i can see. is it possible the natural world is worth taking care of because the Maker is worthy? because i’m ultimately designed to be a good steward?

“green” is easy to do. every activist, scientist, and tv ad has its own definition for that virtue. (seldom do they agree.) i think “good steward” is more complex… more absolute… harder to swallow. so what am i waiting for? another revelation?

(above: new zealand fur seals live in large groups on the coast of the south island. now protected, they were hunted during colonization to near population collapse.)

(below: boys play at an isolated waterfall in the guatemalan jungle, a two-hours hike from the rural orphanage where they live.)

(above: rainbow lorikeets, a small australasian parrot species, usually travel together in pairs. in australia, most live on the lush east coast, where they were introduced in the 1960’s and are now considered a pest. surprisingly, i once even photographed a lorikeet in the dry red center of the australian outback, near alice springs.)

(below: constructed over millions of years, these limestone “pancake rocks” in new zealand are essentially burial grounds, made up almost entirely of small, fossilized sea creatures.)

(above: a strangler fig stands in the forest at the center of fraser island in australia. famous for its population of wild dingos, fraser is the world’s largest sand island — and a great place to go off-roading. four-wheel-drive vehicles are available for rental, from land rovers to knobby-tired tour buses.)

(below: a baby sea turtle makes its first journey toward the ocean after hatching on lady elliot island, at the southernmost tip of the great barrier reef. confused by the moon-like artificial light of the island’s only lighthouse, these turtles had headed inland where they were lost and easy prey to seagulls. after carrying many to safety, we released them the following night.)

(below: a waterfall in fiordland national park, new zealand, cascades into the waters of cook strait, where europeans first entered the country. the average height of the dozens of waterfalls here, easily 10 times that of niagara falls, dwarfs tourist ferries.)