The Lost Art of Noticing

The Lost Art of NoticingOld-School NaturalistNotes from the Fields and Forests of Upstate New YorkBy Marlene McTigueNot long ago, an injured porcupine named Herman helped reveal something I had only begun to suspect.People are hungry to care again.Not in the abstract. Not through outrage, arguments or endless scrolling. They want to care sincerely and openly about real things.A porcupine with a hurt paw.A mourning cloak butterfly drifting through spring woods.Long before Old-School Naturalist became a column, I noticed that whenever I shared stories about the wildlife around us, people responded.Not just with interest, but with genuine concern.One of those stories involved Georgie, a young porcupine whose journey touched thousands of people. When Georgie became ill, readers checked in asking how he was doing. They celebrated milestones, like the day he returned home from the wildlife hospital, and worried when updates slowed.The same thing happened with Herman and countless other animals over the years.What surprised me was not the enthusiasm.It was the tenderness and concern.I’ve recently begun to feel that these stories were asking to become something larger than a newspaper column, a Facebook feed or the observations of a single person.They were asking to be shared, to become part of a larger conversation about the natural world and our place within it.Recently, we launched the Facebook group Old-School Naturalists: Our Notes from the Fields and Forests of Upstate New York. In only a short time, it has begun to take on a life of its own.My friend Yvonne regularly walks at Five Rivers Environmental Education Center, often in the early morning hours. Through her observations, members are able to watch the progression of spring unfold through birdsong, wildflowers and encounters with wildlife.Another member, Ami, recently shared a story about reviving an exhausted bumble bee with a spoonful of sugar water. I have to tell you, that post took my breath away. The amount of care given to such a small creature was deeply moving.And yet it captured the spirit of the community perfectly.That spirit is grounded in a simple belief:A richer life begins with noticing.Many of us learned that lesson when we were young, but life has a way of diverting our attention and making us forget.For me, it came through Girl Scouts in the 1970s, when we spent a great deal of time learning about ecology and where we fit within the web of life. We learned that everything was connected and that living things depended upon one another in ways both obvious and unseen.It came through Ranger Rick magazine.It came through those little green Beatrix Potter books, where every animal had its own unique personality.And it came through my well-worn copy of Reader’s Digest North American Wildlife, a book I returned to again and again as I tried to identify the plants and animals around me from its beautiful illustrations. Looking back, I realize that book taught me something more important than names.It taught me to pay attention.Nature wasn’t simply something I visited.It was part of my life.A community of living things, each with its own place and story.Somewhere along the way, many people lost touch with that instinct.But something remarkable happens when people begin paying attention again. They slow down. They become curious. They ask questions. And they begin treating the living world with greater care and dignity.Perhaps that is what an Old-School Naturalist truly is.Simply being willing to notice.Feeling a sense of delight the first time you hear spring peepers calling each year.Rushing to write down the date when you spot your first firefly of the season.Wondering about a butterfly drifting up through the treetops.Noticing something remarkable and feeling compelled to share it.Well, if this sounds like you, maybe you’re an Old-School Naturalist too.If you’d like to join us, you’ll find us on Facebook in the Old-School Naturalists community:https://m.facebook.com/groups/988913030194996/?ref=shareWe’re just getting started there, but the community is growing, and I suspect there will be many more ways to participate and connect in the months ahead for those who prefer not to spend their time on social media.So, if you feel so compelled, join us.We’re just getting started.And come back next week.The fields and forests of upstate New York still have plenty of stories left to tell.