ENHS Nature Trails March 2005 Article 2

President's Column: Things Change
by Dave Wagner

In the news this past month were several stories from England about the end of fox hunting with hounds. I always thought it was a bit funny to call it hunting: releasing a pack of dogs to find, track and then kill a fox, all the while chasing after the dogs on horses. One of the vestiges of aristocracy-it comes as no surprise that it was outlawed after years of opposition by the plain folk of the land. It reminded me of changes that have occurred in my own life, changes from a traditional British way of doing things.

In my youth, I was an avid butterfly collector. It was a holdover kind of hobby because the school I went to was in India, formerly a British boarding school now run by American missionaries. Collecting butterflies was a very proper hobby for a young boy; I felt I was following in the footsteps of Charles Darwin. Indeed, I was. After returning to the U.S. for college (and to stay permanently), I made myself a new net and took up butterfly collecting again. However, this activity never regained the intensity of my teenage years, and gradually I stopped catching butterflies for fun. The end of collecting came when Bob Pyle published Watching Washington Butterflies and I took up binoculars for butterflies as birders do for birds - just as satisfying as bird watching, perhaps even more so because there is a season for butterflies, and seasons when there are few or no butterflies.

This change of outlook was mirroring my older brother who hunted mammals and collected birds as a hobby. Like many hunters, he turned to a camera before he left India in the mid 1950's. Nobody today would imagine collecting songbirds as a personal hobby. A century ago the craze was collecting bird nests and bird eggs! Things change. The lesson of this is that change is an important part of our culture's maturation in its outlook towards nature. The ranchers and loggers who complain about losing the old ways are going to be lost in the dust of the modern rancher and timber managers. I think we need to recognize that the changes are good and support the policies that appreciate new directions. I have to confess, that like a grizzled cowboy, I have moments when I get nostalgic over the old days. It gets strongest when I run across something like the poem I wrote at the age of seventeen, a senior in high school. It was written for an English composition class; I have to thank my mother for saving it.

WHERE THE BUTTERFLIES LAND
See that rock there? That's where I'll stand.
Just below that is where butterflies land.
You place yourself where they all come to drink.
You have to watch close because if you blink
you'll miss the fast ones, they fly straight by.
From here I can catch the ones flying high,
I'll shout if I see one coming in low.
I have noticed before these often are slow.
So just take your time and don't swing too fast;
swing 'round from behind just as they have passed.
This way you can catch them and not break their wings.
You'll soon have the timing for all of your swings.
There's one now! Up on that bush.
Quick! Step in my hands! I'll give you a push
to get up on this rock; from there you can catch it.
Hold on with one hand, lean out just a bit.
There, now you can reach. Swing fast! Now twist!
That's it! You have it! That's using your wrist!
Don't let it flutter. It's not hard to kill.
Just give it a pinch and it will lie still.
This is a good one, which is quit hard to get.
The ones which I caught were torn in my net.
These ones are rare. I have caught very few;
just down from here I got one or two.
We are lucky today to get one so soon.
We'll catch around here and then about noon
we'll go down and eat by the waterfall's pool.
I know a place that's shady and cool
from where we can see all that passes by.
That time of day I find that they fly
a little more slowly and often will dip
down to rest on the sand for a second to sip
a few drops of water. Hey! How about that!
This little brown one tried to sit on my hat.
Well, his wing is torn so I'll let him go.
I don't like to kill ones which I know
I won't put away. What's that over there?
He's up in a place where you can tear
your net on the thorns. There he goes--to that limb.
That is much better--Ha! I nabbed him.
Come here, take a look! I'm glad you're with me.
It is much more fun to let someone see
what you catch, right away, while you're still thrilled.
The deep satisfaction with which you are filled
when you snare a prize is never as great as
when you're not alone. I find the trip has
much more success when I have a friend who collects with me.

David H. Wagner
April, 1963

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