The Fox, the Geese and the Big Picture

Tools for noticing in nature & why it matters

I have a theory that if we can connect to something we will treat it better, and when we disconnect, it is more likely that we will mistreat that thing. This seems to apply across the board - relationships we nurture or we take for granted, jobs we either care about or are apathetic towards, and the big one - nature. When we close our doors and retreat inside, we shut out the natural world and it can become out of sight, out of mind - something that happens somewhere else, like on TV, or faraway from our doorsteps and our responsibility. It's why I am such an advocate for spending time outdoors and really connecting with the environments we inhabit - this is what we need to develop a mindset that is focused more on conservation and less on consumption.

But when we choose not to directly interact with the environment and the natural world all around us, it is easier to take it for granted. When we tend towards consumption, we care more about what we gain, and we choose to look past what it costs.

And that's how we got here.

Did we consume ourselves into the climate crisis?

Well, it's not as simple as that. I strongly object to how the media and Big Corporations shy away from their responsibilities and put it back onto individuals. Human activities are responsible for the bulk of the increase in greenhouse gas emissions contributing to climate change, but let's be clear: most of the emissions come from a handful of companies - 20 companies are responsible for one third of all carbon emissions. 71% of emissions come from 100 companies. This is an inside job, and it will take political will to induce corporate change at the pace we need to avert any further disaster. Individual action is necessary, but it's not going to save the world. But if we only focus on our own sphere of influence, we miss the big picture.

And the big picture is pretty grim, to be honest. And it's hard. So instead of taking the time to understand it, most people look away, pointing to their admirable record of recycling, or their decision to go vegetarian, and they check out of the climate chat. And sure, while these actions are nice, praiseworthy, commendable, the truth is they aren't enough. Most people can't face that truth. Like I say, the big picture is pretty grim.

But if you can summon the inner strength to look it in the eye, to engage with it, I feel like there might be a chance.

And that's why I run the climate collage workshops. It's an introduction to the big picture. But before we get to that, a nice entry point is even simpler - just engaging with nature. This can open the door to bigger change.

The Fox & The Canada Geese

Last night I delivered a particularly heavy going Climate Collage workshop. It was a safe space, all friends, all of whom had a professional role in or adjacent to the environmental sector. But for some reason, it's among this group of people - acutely aware of environmental issues - that the game seems to hit the hardest. It's something to do with piecing all the bits together and seeing it all in one place. It hits hard. I think it hits hard because we care.

Don't get me wrong, the climate collage can be really uplifting experience. But we finished late, making it difficult to put into practice my usual recommendation to take some time out before moving on to another task, another project, another commitment. But it was well past sunset when we ended the call and said our solemn goodbyes. As I closed the Zoom Room, I knew I couldn't go straight to bed - I had to get outside. Even though it was dark. And even though it was past my bedtime.

Now, as much as I champion spending time outside - here comes the irony. I love being outside, but sometimes, I hate the idea of it. Yes, I want to spend more time outdoors, and perhaps creating this blog is my way of creating the accountability to do so. But even when I want to, my brain won't let me go. Whether it's because I'm tired, or it's raining, or I'm tight on time because I've wasted too much of it procrastinating on something else, or there's bugs, or it's dark, or it's cold - I have a lot of excuses at my disposal at any given time. There is actually, embarrassing though this is to admit, a high bar to get me outside. So deciding I wanted a walk so late, way past my bedtime (yes I am an adult, and yes, bedtime is sacrosanct) was a highly unusual situation.

I needed some fresh air and I needed to escape my four walls. I needed space. I needed to decompress. We'd had a lot of screen time and some heavy conversations. I needed some space to process the heaviness that I was feeling post-workshop.

As I walked towards the water's edge, the moon was high in the clear sky, reflecting perfectly on the still surface of the loch. The moon was bigger than I was expecting - I knew we were close to a new moon, but I thought it was waning, not waxing. I was wrong. I made a mental note to pay more attention, reflecting on how easy it is to lose track of natural systems, how disconnected from nature we can get in our day to day lives, even when I'm living in a forest, surrounded by it all the time.

The loch, the moon, the night - it was all so mesmerising, so restorative, after the intensity of the workshop. I sat on a picnic bench and let the experience wash over me: the stillness of the water, the coolness of the night, the expansiveness of the sky, the forests and the hills in the distance. I immersed myself in the moment, letting distance come between me and our discussions about what we as humanity are doing to the planet. It's hard to hold those two things at the same time: our need to consume the beauty of nature, and the fact that we are destroying it.

In that moment, I became aware of a commotion further along the shore. I could hear geese honking, but I could barely see them. As they moved closer towards me, I began to make out the large flock of Canada geese on the water, swimming along the shoreline and making a complete and utter racket. It took a while for me to clock what was happening, but as they got closer, I realised there was something on land, and the geese were chasing it, not being chased. Whatever it was, the geese were honking in a defensive way to ward the creature off. I wondered if it was a beaver - there is evidence of beaver all around us, but after a ton of effort, we have still only seen a beaver once. But as I peered into the dimness, I thought I could make out a fox slinking along the shore at the water's edge. I text Espen, asking him to come quickly (and to bring binoculars).

The fox and the geese came even closer, the geese making an awful din in their attempt to scare the fox away. I was fascinated, but my curiosity began to morph into discomfort, mild alarm and then moderate irrational fear as I began to make a plan for what I would do if the fox was to make its way all the way to where I was sitting in silence. I didn't want to disturb it, but I also didn't want to die by fox that night. At some point Espen arrived and he made his way over where I was sitting. With the binoculars, we could confirm it was a fox, and it is possible the fox even snatched a gosling while we were there. It was electric. Such a spectacle feels really extraordinary - it was just like watching our very own nature documentary live in front of us, with all the high drama and wildlife antics, but with only one viewpoint, or camera angle.

And all I could think is that we could have missed it so easily. We could have been sitting in our house, like we do so many nights, and we could have missed this. It made me wonder how many of nature's events we miss because we're too busy wrapped up in our own lives to notice what's going on Out There. Of course, we can't catch everything, and not every event is ours to watch - nature is not really there for our benefit after all. But seeing Fox-Gate was a high privilege indeed.

After a solid three hours spent in brutal consideration of how human activities impact on Earth's systems, it was quite an experience to see the brutality of nature itself, left to its own devices and without our interference. We don't see it all - we can never see it all - but this was a reminder for me that there is a bigger picture, whether or not we are looking for it. I think it's worth holding on to that thought - that just because we don't see it or we don't know about it, doesn't mean it isn't happening, and that it doesn't deserve our care or respect.

And that's how I want to wrap up this event, this experience, and this climate collage workshop - knowing that there is a bigger picture out there and that we are part of it, whether we choose to engage with it, we look away, or we are stuck so far inside our boxes that we forget that there is anything else out there. My biggest fear is that apathy will end us, and that is why I invite anyone who is listening or watching or reading this to step up and step in to your environment. Notice how you are a part of nature, and the different ways you interact with it (or it interacts with you). Notice what is happening in your environment.

And if you want a to find out more about how it all fits together, please get in touch to arrange a slightly mind-bending climate collage workshop 🌍