Taking Flight: Part 2 by Veronica Padula

 

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Looking for waterbirds in the Florida Everglades I learned how to drive an airboat in the process

This is part 2 of 3. If you missed the first one you can find it here.

 

Taking Flight: Part 2

Here’s the thing, I did not necessarily grow up “in nature”. I grew up in a city in New Jersey, played indoor sports (fencing, not exactly your typical sport), and my main experience of the outdoors was going down the shore with my parents and hanging out on the beach or riding my bike with my dad along the boardwalk. I had never gone camping, never learned how to build a proper fire, never even seen a shooting star. So choosing a major that focused on nature, and then registering for a five-week field course at the Biosphere II in Arizona the summer after my freshman year of college meant I was taking huge steps out of my comfort zone.

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I helped teach a field ecology course in Belize last year. Had to take the snorkeling selfie.

But I was ready to learn and experience new things, and boy did I learn and experience what seemed like a million new things in those short five weeks. I learned how to be out in nature – by the time the course ended I could hike many miles, pitch a tent, and pull cactus spines from my skin (I may have lost a battle with an agave cactus during one hike). I learned how to identify birds and reptiles and mammals and plants. I learned what an ecosystem was. I loved considering how all the bits and pieces – organic and inorganic, microscopic and giant – of a particular ecosystem are interconnected, how they each play an integral role to keep the system functioning. I learned that humans were really good at altering landscapes. I learned what it meant to be a conservationist and environmentalist. And perhaps, most importantly, I learned that this was the type of work I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Oh, and I saw lots of shooting stars…

Well, wanting to study the environment and work outdoors is a bit different from the morgue, no? That first field course in Arizona awakened something in me and was the start of a crazy wonderful journey that continues today. The passion for the environment, the love for all the plants and animals, and the desire to explore all corners of the earth took me by surprise. Took my friends and family by surprise too, I think. Like I said, I didn’t necessarily grow up the outdoorsy type. But the natural world fascinated me and continues to fascinate me. I realized that science did not just happen at a lab bench or in a hospital. Science also happened outdoors, and I could pursue a career doing science outside.

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I spent two summers working on Alaska’s North Slope. We used a float plane to get around, it was spectacular.

Over the past decade (a little more than a decade at this point I guess) I have been figuring out exactly what kind of scientist I am. So many options. Ecology? Geology? Biology? Climatology? And those are just umbrella terms, with countless specialties within each of those fields. Throughout college I tried to seize any opportunity to be outside studying something. A geology course where we spent spring break hiking around Death Valley. An ecology course in Peru where we searched for frogs at night in the rainforest. A six month study abroad program in Australia where we explored rainforests AND coral reefs.
Among all these explorations, something did find me though… birds. During my last year of college I assisted on a black-crowned ni
ght heron project (check out the youtube videos of herons chumming in fish with pieces of bread, they are simply brilliant) in the New York-New Jersey Harbor. Birds are fascinating, and I was instantly hooked on them. Their health and well-being can tell us so much about what is happening in an ecosystem, and what could potentially be happening to the people in that ecosystem. I was also fortunate to be in the company of passionate scientists who cared deeply about their research and about the herons in the harbor, and took
the time to teach me and prepare me for a career in this field. Their enthusiasm was infectious and motivated me to continue studying birds.

They have been a constant in my life since then. They brought me to Alaska in 2007. More specifically, seabirds (marbled murrelets, they are perhaps some of the cutest birds out there) brought me to Alaska in 2007, and I essentially never left. I love Alaska, and the seabirds that call this place home. They are pretty special creatures, I often find myself wishing I was one of them when I’m watching them. I feel a deep connection to and love for the marine environment in Alaska – especially the seabirds. That is why I am currently studying them and educating other folks about them for my graduate degree. More on that in the next post…

Veronica is a Guest Contributor for Latino Outdoors and is working towards a Masters of Science in Marine Biology at the University of Alaska Anchorage/Fairbanks. If you would like to get in touch in Veronica her email is vmpadula@alaska.edu or follow her on Instagram @vmpadula.

 

Stay tuned for more!

 


Taking Flight by Veronica Padula

*This post is broken into three parts. I hope you enjoy!

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Veronica releasing a Thick-Billed Murre on St. Paul Island, Alaska.

Part 1

Ok, I have a confession… here it goes… I’m… 32 years old. Yea, that’s a hard one for me to admit. I realize some of you reading this are probably rolling your eyes at me right now because what is the big stinking deal about being 32, but stick with me. Because I’m 32 and I feel as though I’m only JUST figuring out who I am and what I want to be when I grow up. Because outside forces (read: the rest of the world) seem to tell me that I should really have my act together at this point. Because “adulting” is an art form that I have not quite mastered, although those outside forces seem to suggest that I should have mastered that art form ages ago. What exactly is adulting anyway, right? I tell myself to stop comparing my progress against what these outside forces expect progress to be. This is part of why admitting my age is difficult, I don’t exactly feel like I fit into what I believe that adult category to be just yet, I’m a little different…

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Koalas in Australia! This picture was taken at an animal sanctuary there, I was in heaven cuddling this little one

But then again, this feeling of being a little different is nothing new for me, and that feeling is something I’ve always struggled with. When I was little, I had a fleece blanket with rows of little white sheep, with one little black sheep in the bottom corner of the blanket. Guess which sheep I related to the most. I was born and raised in New Jersey, first-generation American on my mom’s side, as she and her immediate family had immigrated to the United States back in the 1970s from Uruguay, and deeply-rooted New Jersey Italian on my dad’s side, going back a couple of generations. On one side of my family, I was practically brand new to the region, and on the other side of my family I was probably related to a quarter of the people inhabiting a 20-mile radius around my house (ok, that might be an exaggeration, but it felt like that!).

Reflecting on it now, I wonder if my younger self considered this as part of why I always felt a little bit different. How did I define myself? How Latin American was I? How Italian was I? How Jersey was I? People often tell me that I don’t sound like I’m from New Jersey when I’m speaking. Have I just never had a Jersey accent because I grew up in a bilingual home, or have I really been away from Jersey for that long? But deep down inside I’d like to think I still have that tough-as-nails attitude and pride that comes with being a Jersey girl. You can take the girl out of Jersey, but you can’t take the Jersey out of the girl.

But seriously, how did I really define myself? Did I consider those factors back then, or are those questions I am asking myself now? I also wonder if these questions, rather than making me feel a bit different, could have united me with others. It might have taken me time to do so, but as I have opened up to other people about these topics, I have found kindred spirits with similar experiences. Why didn’t I talk about this sooner? Perhaps it takes getting older (I’m careful not to say “becoming an adult” as I do not feel as though I qualify for that just yet) to recognize the need to open up, and I have learned that many of us are similar in that we all feel just a little bit different…

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Ice fishing my first winter in Alaska. That fish was quite a catch!

Perhaps some things that stick with me most are the conversations with other first-generation Americans, and the similarities we shared in growing up first-generation American kids. Turns out many of them grew up feeling that the way to honor their parents’ sacrifices (leaving their home country, family, careers to start over, possibly moving to a place where they did not know the language, possibly traveling across dangerous borders) was to have super successful careers, with all the boxes that indicate “adulthood” checked. Seems like many of them felt themselves to be a bit different because of this desire to honor such sacrifices…

Me too. I believed my way of honoring my parents was by becoming a doctor when I grew up. As I was graduating high school, I specifically wanted to become a forensic pathologist, mostly because I watched lots of crime shows with my mom (who doesn’t love CSI or Law and Order?) and I was riveted by the things going on in the morgue. So I entered college thinking I would take the pre-med route, with just a bit of a twist. Instead of choosing Biology as my major, I chose Ecology, Evolution, and Environmental Biology because I thought it would be cool and different to do a study abroad in the rainforest or at a coral reef. As a teenager entering college, choosing something because it seemed cool and different was totally logical. Mainly I was looking for adventure, and never really considered what I might be getting myself into. Little did I know that I’d find my life’s passion outside in nature…

 

 

 

 

Veronica is a Guest Contributor for Latino Outdoors and is working towards a Masters of Science in Marine Biology at the University of Alaska Anchorage/Fairbanks. If you would like to get in touch in Veronica her email is vmpadula@alaska.edu or follow her on Instagram @vmpadula.

 

Stay tuned for more!

 

 


Murie Center honors spirit of conservation

By Kylie Mohr

This article originally appeared in Jackson Hole News & Guide


A soft evening breeze rustled through the grasses, and the smoky sky bathed the Murie Ranch in an orange glow. Live music mixed with the sounds of chatter and the clinking of glasses as guests gathered Aug. 24 to celebrate the past, and the future, of the conservation movement. Behind the tent with twinkling lights and a podium stood Mardy and Olaus Murie’s original log cabin.

From the porch of the cabin, visitors can catch glimpses of the Grand Teton peeking out above the trees. The Wilderness Act of 1964, describing wilderness as “an area where the earth and its community of life are untrammeled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain,” was inspired by the view and conceived on that porch.

How fitting a place to honor present and upcoming leaders in the conservation movement following the Teton Science Schools and Murie Center merger announced during last year’s award dinner.

Actor Harrison Ford received the 2016 Murie Spirit of Conservation Award, adding a wow factor to the event. But organizers downplayed the celebrity aspect.

“This is not about Harrison Ford as a celebrity,” said Patrick Daley, vice president of advancement at Teton Science Schools. “This is about Harrison Ford as a leader in conservation.”

That didn’t keep eager guests from rushing, albeit cordially, to take photos with Ford once the speeches had concluded.

Chris Agnew, executive director of Teton Science Schools, said Ford was being recognized for his remarkable body of work on behalf of conservation globally and in the valley and that he respected Ford’s “authenticity.”

In 1985 Ford signed the first of what would become nine conservation easements to protect his 800-acre ranch southwest of Jackson while creating open space and providing a safe habitat in an ecologically rich area.

He has also been involved with the board of Conservation International for almost 25 years and currently serves as vice chair.

“His work comes from conviction,” Agnew said, before playing a Ford-narrated clip in “Nature is Speaking,” Conservation International’s award-winning film.

The overarching theme? Nature doesn’t need people, but people need nature.

Ford’s acceptance speech began humbly, as he thanked all the staff at Conservation International and said he didn’t want to be a “poster child.” He then told the crowd how he came to Jackson Hole by accident but, like many, fell in love with this “vision of paradise” and was anxious to find a way of giving back.

Also honored was Jose Gonzales, a first-generation Mexican immigrant who founded Latino Outdoors in his quest to bring diversity to the conservation movement. Agnew described his work as “providing access and encouraging stewardship in all of our special places.”

When presenting the award to Gonzales, Ford called exposing every culture to preservation “critical.”

Gonzales said “surprised was an understatement” when he learned that Ford chose him as the recipient of the Rising Leader award.

“It was a bit surreal,” Gonzales said. “How else would my name and his name be in the same sentence?”

Gonzales told the News&Guide that education caused “the future to open up” for him and that now he wants to return the favor.

“I realized that I wasn’t limited to just what my parents did,” he said. “I saw being a teacher as a way of giving back to the community.”

Gonzales’ friends told him to “just start something” when his search for existing organizations connecting leadership, Latinos/as and outdoor education came up empty-handed. When a Google domain search for Latino Outdoors came up as available, Gonzales said he was “laughing and crying.” It was go time.

Today, Latino Outdoors is a network of leaders committed to engaging Latinos in the outdoors and connecting families and youth with nature.

Gonzales talked about the importance of a diverse conservation movement that builds on past successes.

“What does the next centennial look like?” he asked.

He said that while the parks represent such diverse public lands, more inclusive leadership — and visitorship — is needed.

“Latino and American are not exclusive identities. They’re not,” he said, to cheers from the audience after quoting Cesar Chavez and President Barack Obama.

Guests remarked that the Murie Center was the perfect location for the night’s event.

“The heart and soul of old Jackson is still here,” said Nancy Leon, former co-chair of the Murie Center board of directors.

“Docent Dan” McIlhenny aptly described the cabin and the landscape surrounding it as “tranquil” and “peaceful,” noting that visitors are often inspired by “Two In the Far North,” the biographic novel that Mardy Murie wrote. Murie was a beloved leader in the conservation movement who went on to win Wyoming’s Citizen of the Century award and the Presidential Medal of Freedom but liked to fly under the radar.

“People read her words and come here on a pilgrimage,” McIlhenny said.

The executive director of the National Outdoor Leadership School, John Gans, also attended the Murie Center event.

“A key part of all of our programs is building a conservation ethic and a wilderness ethic,” Gans said. “A lot of leaders in the conservation movement are NOLS grads, and I see that kind of leadership represented here tonight.”

Spur Catering provided the evening’s food, including local cheeses and vegetables. Snake River Brewing, Grand Teton Distillery and Jackson Hole Winery provided the drinks.

The night concluded with a live auction of trips such as a winter expedition through Yellowstone, a getaway to the San Juan Islands of Washington and a vacation in Honolulu. The artist Borbay, whose daughter will start preschool at Teton Science Schools this fall, donated a commissioned piece of art.

The event was a success, said the Science Schools’ Daley.

“We saw 20 to 30 percent more attendees this year,” he said. “That really demonstrates the collaborative aspects of our integration with the Murie Center.”