The Spectrum of Wildness and Rewilding: Justice for All

Abstract

I am fortunate to have had wild places close to home for most of my life, places to which I could escape from the nerve-shattering madness of civilization. Woods, creeks, ponds, old fields, pastures, abandoned limestone quarries—all places that were damaged to varying degrees by humans but in which people do not now have a dominating presence. None of these places could be called wilderness by any stretch of the imagination. They are not natural areas in the pure sense of the term. They are semi-natural, but they are wild. Processes as old as life on Earth still operate within them, not completely overwhelmed by human activity and technology. And they are quiet, except for the songs of birds, frogs, and insects, the bubbling of brooks, the wind through the trees, and occasional sounds of automobiles, airplanes, or guns in the distance. These have been places where, since childhood, I could relax but also feel exhilarated, where I could contemplate difficult questions about life and death, where I could exercise my body and break a sweat, and where I could hone my skills as a naturalist. The other beings in a wild place, and even the rocks and waters, feel like friends and family. I am never alone there.