There is a lot of great nature writing about cities - it's just hidden.

• Natural history guidebooks - wildflowers, geology, birds.  
• Local history - especially of Native Peoples
• Regional literature

In my area, the SF Bay Region, we have:

The Ohlone Way by Malcom Margolin - a popularization that gives a glimpse of what life was like before the Europeans.

Bay Area Wild by the late Galen Rowell.  Stunning photos of the extensive wild areas here.

Novels by John Steinbeck set in California. At his best, he weaves together natural history, human activities on the land (farming), and stories about individuals.

Exploring a Sense of Place - guidebook for setting up a class to become acquainted with your bio-region. Originally created for the South SF Bay, but the ideas can be used anywhere.

Most areas have their own "human treasures" - naturalists, outdoors people, local historians, gardeners  - who are eager to share their knowledge and who deserve support.

The bio-regional movement that started in the 70s was the impetus for many books and ideas. It's time for a Renaissance.

Bart
Energy Bulletin

It isn't about nature in cities, but a fascinating book explores nature in a prison. In the book, Wilderness and Razor Wire: a naturalist's observations from prison (Mercury House, 2000), Ken Lamberton records his experiences of nature, as an inmate inside a medium security prison. From his cell, he keeps close track of the changing seasons, the insect life, the migrating birds and the blooming plants. He writes, "Nature is here as much as it is in any national park or forest or monument."

Whether in prison, the sprawling 'burbs, or urban slums, there is much to discover about our intimate engagement with the cycles and processes of nature.

Peter Sawtell
Eco-Justice Ministries
www.eco-justice.org

Randy Cunningham

Randy Cunningham

   Strolling around a park, or hiking up one of the small mountains are some of the most popular forms of entertainment.  People love to spend time out doors in nature, even in cities!

   For many children, this is where they first begin to learn about nature and to love it.

   The idea that cities and nature are two seperate realities is an artificial one.

   Thanks to all for the informative posts.

patrick

(The article in The Believer is almost entirely different--and much better, based on a quick reading--Ms. Price sticks to what she knows, instead of making the implicit claim that 'nature writing' has ignored the relationship between people and cities and nature until she came around. And she makes some good points, to boot. So everyone should read that article instead, if I'm allowed one 'should'.)

The Grist blurb (which I imagine Ms. Price did not write) about the article is classic straw man argumentation:
Henry David Thoreau went to the woods in order to live deliberately, and as a result spawned generations of googly-eyed, moss-worshipping nature writers. But is paying dreamy tribute to wilderness where it's at in the 21st century?

Can anyone here please refer me to some of these 'googly-eyed, moss-worshipping nature writers' (mainstream ones, not freaks)? Who exactly is 'paying dreamy tribute to wilderness' these days? I certainly haven't encountered any such authors in my reading to date. I've certainly encountered scores that grapple very deeply with the very issues Ms. Price raises in this article. And if Ms. Price--or Grist--is arguing that we need to get away from the transcendental in our experience of nature (whether in the city or country)--or for that matter--of ourselves, I would argue precisely the opposite. We need it all--analytical soil and water science along with awe and wonder at the mystery this planet continues to offer us.

If you care to read more of my thoughts on this -- and I warn you, my comments may inadvertently stay into 'jerk' territory--please click below:

http://tinyurl.com/y2keql
My blog is here:

Let me add that I love Grist and I think overall the editorial staff does a fantastic job. But let's deepen the dialogue on these tough issues at every turn. Though I may be argumentative in my blog, I'm really trying to engage on the issues, and freely admit when I have no idea what I'm talking about. If we, as activists and advocates for 'nature', 'the wild', etc., can't stop ourselves from denigrating the efforts of those who have so passionately written about their experiences in the wild, we stand little chance of fighting back against those who really aren't on our side.

http://piglipstick.wordpress.com/

Not so much in defense of Grist, as to offer a bit of advice to Grist readers, I would urge them to consider that there are several levels of seriousness here.  The motto "A beacon in the smog," written in gilt letters about the Grist escutcheon (upon a field azure, a polar bear argent, rampant, swimmant for dear life, above an ice cube argent), should be fair warning that not everything is grim and gray, and that playfulness enters in, often enough.

Thanks very much to Bart, for his excellent bibliography.  Steinbeck is always excellent reading; and I expect those of you within shooting distance of Salinas appreciate him more than anyone.

LamaRespect, you wrote, "We don't need to get on a plane to get 'into nature'."

Absolutely.  We should do what we can to minimize our travel, and we should develop an understanding and appreciation of where we are.  If Jenny Price is telling us anything, it is that there is no place anywhere on this planet, however aesthetically challenged, that does not deserve study, observation and appreciation.  And thus appreciated, there is no place that will not inspire artists, including writers.

You go on to write, "But we shouldn't ignore the perils of urbanization, either."

Ummm.  "Urbanization" means a few different things.  Cities ideally have positive environmental effects, and I am sure you realize that.  But I agree with you if you are referring to the destructive effects of the Industrial Revolution, the invention and universal marketing of automobiles, the migration of rural populations to cities, and such matters.


Chickens deserve our true friendship! So do fish! So do other sentient beings! Let us learn to be kind.

If you look at their contributor's list, it can act as a who's who of the sub-genre.

I think it has some of the best literature that addresses all of the five thematic questions that Ms. Price suggested, as well as several that she didn't. It also has a complete archive of all it's past issues available.

There is such a wealth of great work here that it may change your opinion that not much is being written on the issue.


Land_Man

With solar liughting channeled down into the basements.

http://amazngdrx.blogharbor.com/blog John Schneider, Northern Wisconsin

I realize that the human imprint is lesser on the land (as an immediate footprint) in that way, but I do not buy that thesis as a truth. I have yet to understand, and this has been stated by many, that cities are the best thing since sliced bread, which was likely also invented in a city. Chicken and the egg?

Sorry.

The cities in my opinion allow humans to use the land more, because the disjunction of agricultural production away from a necessity frees up time to do both positive and negative things. Positives are culture, art, music, social interaction, etc. But negatives are a creation of a social structure, with Much Betters, crime, pollution (which has always been a major city problem: horse manure, anyone? or how about open water sewer systems?), and currently consumerism, suburbs (to get away from crime), etc.

I have lived in both types of areas, and I am not anywhere near convinced that cities are a positive thing environmentally.

Let me add that the genre should by no means itself to descriptions of urban woodlots or even (my hobby horse) urban gardens/farms. Cities as natural habitat of that endlessly fascinating beast, homo sapiens -- that's a vast and possibly inexhaustible topic.

Victual Reality

Note that I added to my statement the qualifier "ideally."  I did so, most intentionally.  The environmental advantages of the classic, pre-industrial, minimally internationalized city included keeping a majority of the population residing (i.e. drinking, washing, peeing, pooping, garbage-discarding, etc.) within a limited area, as well as reliance on local food sources.

But already in antiquity, the latter was a problem.  Classical Athens was seriously inconvenienced by a disruption of its source of grain from agricultural regions on the Black Sea.  And the governance of the city of Rome was now and again destabilized by a disruption of the grain supply from Egypt.  Not for nothing was Constantinople, aka Istanbul, excellently situated on shipping lanes; from late antiquity into the modern period, it was a major capital; but never could its residents rely on local agriculture.

So, I agree with you, about the trickiness of "truth."

My friend Amazing reminds us that in the US, we associate urbanization with the horror of paving over the earth.  Cf. the Canadian-American Joni Mitchell's lyric, "They paved paradise and put up a parking lot."  Actually, that has more to do with a rather different US phenomenon, SUBurbanization.  Still, the point is important: old urban practices are accepted where they do not belong.

I like your lists of "positives" and "negatives."  The latter pretty much have to do with specifically modern American problems, not with cities as such.  "Pollution" has always been an urban problem, urgently needing to be dealt with.  Also, not unrelated, do not overlook the issue of public health: The situation of many people living near each other has always provided a dangerous opportunity for contagious diseases.

Other problems have to do with American social history, especially in connexion with racism and race-relations.

On crime: The association of crime with cities is a canard, foulement quackant.  The relative anonymity of city-dwellers, and the great numbers of residents, always made law enforcement a difficult job.  But consider London: "Sweeney Todd," Jack the Ripper, Sherlock Holmes; and yet London police officers, "bobbies," were never equipped with firearms, till only very recently, when new, Americanizing circumstances have come to prevail.

It was always far more dangerous to live in the country, each householder far from his neighbor, far from any hope for help.  Consider where the murders took place in Truman Capote's "In Cold Blood"; in "Fargo"; in "Cape Fear"; in "A Place in the Sun."  Consider the circumstances of the death of Matthew Shepard.

We who live in cities take reasonable precautions, e.g. where we go at certain hours; but in general we certainly do not believe ourselves to be in constant danger.  On the other hand, why you all, our country cousins, should feel so superiorly safe, is beyond me.  Do you rely on the virtue of everyone round about?  Do you rely on the weapons that you pack?

Chickens deserve our true friendship! So do fish! So do other sentient beings! Let us learn to be kind.

Cities ideally have positive environmental effects, and I am sure you realize that.

Actually, no, I hadn't realized that. Can you please point me towards some source material on this, how even 'ideally' cities as they exist today (or tomorrow) could be positive w/r/t the environment (w/o proposing fantastical scenarios that have little relation to the way things are or require EVERYONE to change their ways all at once)? Esp. w/r/t suburban sprawl--which is a direct result of urban development (or lack thereof). I understand that suburban living is (usually? often?) even worse than city-dwelling in terms of resource use, but that does not makes cities the salvation of healthy ecosystems/'the wild' (as Price states) simply b/c they are 'less bad' other options. Two examples to consider: Las Vegas and New Orleans. Can anyone claim their continued development and growth (no matter how 'sustainable') will ever be of net ecological benefit to their bioregions?

If Jenny Price is telling us anything, it is that there is no place anywhere on this planet, however aesthetically challenged, that does not deserve study, observation and appreciation.  And thus appreciated, there is no place that will not inspire artists, including writers.

Agreed--but does that make it 'nature writing'? What then is the definition of 'nature', then? That's my question. If it's everything, anywhere, at any time, then it's also nothing. Like the new-agey 'all is one' talk -- what does that really mean? Are we really suggesting that the garden is 'the same' as the compost heap? I sure hope not. I'll eat from the (organic) garden, thank you very much. And if we're not really suggesting that, why is it a meaningful thing to say? I am as big a believer as anyone in the essential unity of all things, of one energy that permeates all existence. But that doesn't mean everything humans do is therefore 'natural', and all habitats are 'equal' w/r/t their 'wildness'. That, to me, is dangerous postmodern wordplay, and has more in common with alienated (and alienating) Western philosophical and scientific traditions than indigenous wisdom, or--to put it most simply--than stopping our frenzy of 'progressive, sustainable' activity, quieting our breath, and listening to the land. Let's use our guts and our hearts as much as our heads.

Forgive me if I've engaged in the kind of straw man argumentation of which I've accused Price, but I think we need to by wary of hiding behind philosophical rationalizations for 'the way things are', when they are clearly seriously messed-up on just about every level. Sure, there's nature in cities. But that doesn't mean they are sustainable.

http://piglipstick.wordpress.com/

In other words, everything is all made of the same stuff, but it acts in different ways.  For lunch we may eat soup, but we do not eat the spoon or bowl.  These differences are real in the sense that they are true for the duration of their existence.

Naturally, different environments tend to have different effects on us.  For instance, the view from a mountain top can easily broaden the minds of those who have climed them, one effect of an increase in sattva.  Physically, this can be felt as the mind reaches across the horizon and up into space.  

The city environment is principally dominated by the material mode of passion (rajas).  It's the rat-race.  Of course, goodness and ignorance are also present, but the overall influence of cities is to amplify the urges of the senses.  Nature is there, but not generally in a very satisfying or uplifting way.

Nature also manifests the material mode of ignorance (tamas) in places where people indulge in intoxication, nasty foods, violence, and such things.

Euell Gibbons may be able make a meal of what grows between the cracks in a city sidewalk (to prove a point), but those of us who feel the persistent call of a more natural nature cannot make a home there.

Most Americans, including most New Yorkers, think of New York City as an ecological nightmare, a wasteland of concrete and garbage and diesel fumes and traffic jams, but in comparison with the rest of America it's a model of environmental responsibility. By the most significant measures, New York is the greenest community in the United States, and one of the greenest cities in the world. The most devastating damage humans have done to the environment has arisen from the heedless burning of fossil fuels, a category in which New Yorkers are practically prehistoric. The average Manhattanite consumes gasoline at a rate that the country as a whole hasn't matched since the mid-nineteen-twenties, when the most widely owned car in the United States was the Ford Model T. Eighty-two per cent of Manhattan residents travel to work by public transit, by bicycle, or on foot. That's ten times the rate for Americans in general, and eight times the rate for residents of Los Angeles County. New York City is more populous than all but eleven states; if it were granted statehood, it would rank fifty-first in per-capita energy use.

From Owen, David, The New Yorker, October 18, 2004, "Green Manhattan: Everywhere Should be More like New York"

Victual Reality

Much of the discussion here appears to based at the level of personal living preferences rather than responding to the deep paradigm that Jenny Price describes.  Nature is not other.  It is not outside of our cultural constructs.  It is us and our artefacts as much as it is the hawk in the wind over the canyon: seeing nature as something apart from ourselves and our cities simply gets us deeper in the shit.  So to speak.

Price offers us a good way to look at our cities.  It is not a new vision but it is less commonly expressed than its antithesis, which has got us into a lot of obvious trouble: Price expresses this vision well and it is worth repeating.  This is not an argument about whether the city or the country is "better" or "more sustainable" or "more spiritual".  Ultimately, wilderness is simply the world sans human presence.  If we finally eliminate our own presence on this planet, wilderness will be what is left.  In the meantime, whatever our individual needs, we will as a species continue to build and rebuild our cities because it's a part of "our" nature - it's what we do.  And for our own sake and for the sake of every other living species, it behooves us to build and rebuild them well.  This we can only do if we thoroughly understand, accept, and embrace our own presence as an indissoluble part of what we call nature.  

The true meaning of life is to plant trees, under whose shade you do not expect to sit.

As they take a closer look, however, biologists in the nascent science of "urban ecology" are finding that cities are not just important habitats, but veritable hot spots of animal and plant life. "You can take any big city and find more species, more diverse habitats than in just about any national park or nature reserve," says Josef Reichholf, professor of ornithology at Munich's Technical University. Both in animal numbers as well as species diversity, he says, cities beat the countryside hands down.

Berlin, one of the best-studied cases, is home to two thirds of the 280 bird species existing in Germany, including peregrine falcons and ospreys--raptors that have disappeared from much of the country. What's more, biologists say, urban biodiversity seems to be on the rise--as our cities become cleaner, suburbs grow greener, and more and more species learn to adapt. These findings are challenging an old piece of orthodoxy--that urbanization is the planet's biggest environmental threat. On the contrary, it's in the open country that plants and animals have seen the most rapid decline. The main culprit, biologists say: a highly efficient but species-killing agriculture, now spreading from the developed world to southern countries like Brazil.

And thanks to Laurence Aurbach, for the fascinating quote from a recent Newsweek article.  For some reason I do not remember it, though I read Newsweek faithfully.  Anyway, the richness of biodiversity in a city of many kinds of structures and spaces ought not to surprise us.  We build lots of large buildings, where animals can find convenient shelter, at a decent remove from human intrusions.  Here in NYC, the nest/roost of Pale Male, the red-tailed hawk, and his family, overlooking Fifth Avenue and Central Park, is a celebrated example.  There is also said to be a nest of peregrine falcons in the belltower of the Riverside Church, in my neighborhood, but I have not yet seen them.

Your question on "nature writing" is a good one.  I do not want to answer it, though; that is a genre that I do not know all that much about, and that I tend not to seek out.  Your cautionary remarks are most apt, especially your fear that "the New-Agey 'all is one' talk" can be reduced to an apolitical, action-less "rationalization for 'the way things are'."  

I doubt that Jenny Price [Welsh name number two!] could be accused of that kind of thinking.  It is not clear who her intended readership is; but it is very good that Grist is promoting her.  I personally prefer those authors who do not seek to persuade, or to drive action or policy, but rather open us to receive a new item of value.  And I think Jenny Price is that kind of writer.

On the "sustainability" of cities: SpaceShaper expresses what I believe, much better than I could.  To say nothing of that wonderful bit from "Irene, Goodnight."  (There is a great recording of Willie Nelson singing it, with The Chieftains.)

But I agree that the urban ideal has been corrupted in the 20th century, what with the inventions of the automobile, suburbia, and commuting.  The old cities are, for the most part, not at their best, right now.  And the new cities are not really cities: e.g. Springfield, MO, where my mother-in-law lives, basically a tidy, boring grid of strip malls, or worse, isolated one-floor buildings each with its own parking lot.  And LA itself, though it is much more varied, and here and there has a bit of character, is not really much better.  And so it is no wonder that, in that context, the word "urbanization" should at once provoke an immune response.

My friend Pandu writes about the effect of our environment on us.  That is an important moral issue.  Many residents of cities cannot really handle the life here, and would do better in an environment with fewer people and more scenery of non-human origin.  He is right that the basic energy of cities, American cities at least, is "rajas," which he reduces to mean "the rat race": work, the competition for position, the competition for wealth, the competition for prestige.  There is much else that happens in cities, of cultural significance, which gives each city its identity.  But even supporting those things requires wealth.

So ideally, I think, we should be able to pass back and forth, between urban and non-urban environments.  Such balance is a health issue, and a moral issue.  As much as I love living in Manhattan, I know I would do very well on a rocky promontory on the coast of Maine.

Tom Philpott used to live in Brooklyn, one of America's greatest cities, if not the greatest, the cradle of American culture in the 20th century.  (What would LA be, without people who were born and raised in Brooklyn?)  And now he lives on a farm in western North Carolina.  He is in an excellent position to tell us about that balance.

Chickens deserve our true friendship! So do fish! So do other sentient beings! Let us learn to be kind.

Yes, a gazillion academics (or so) in every conceivable field are writing about environment in cities, and this work is beyond essential. And sustainability couldn't be a hotter topic. But for all the talk about green cities and sustainable living, even many of the most environmentally-minded of us don't really, truly think of cities as places of nature.

And that's a problem of imagination--and imagination is the province of literature. And as long as the self-described genre of nature writing continues to ignore cities, it might be tough to create that literature around it.

Some wonderful writers are doing it--Michael Pollan, Rebecca Solnit, Robert Sullivan, and Charles Siebert being among my own favorites. Leah Hager Cohen's book Glass, Paper, Beans is as good as it gets.  

Most of these writers, however--not all--do not call themselves nature writers, and the ones I know just will not identify themselves as part of a genre that ignores cities and our everyday post-post-modern lives.

I'm hardly the only frustrated voice. For written critiques, e.g., see Richard White's "The Natures of Nature Writing" (Raritan, Fall 2002), and  Susan Zakin's introduction to her Naked anthology--which are both excellent.

  So, I went outside and began to look around, and wow, there are lots of birds in Beijing.  (Which led me to write a story for a student publication about just this idea, that we do not always slow down and see the evidence of nature around us!).

  When possible, I love wandering a city around four AM.  Lots of the night life (non-human) is out and about then, and visible to those who move differently (not in cars, slowly, quietly, and even some times, not at all).

  People may like or dislike cities (I like them).  But we really need to understand that the boundaries between "urban", "suburban" and "rural" are political, social and perhaps aesthetic boundaries.  They have nothing to do with nature, which doesn't recognize them.

  Thanks again Jenny for bringing this up here!  And Tom, CanisCandida and others for trying to bridge the gap.

patrick

The article in Newsweek that Laurence Aurbach refers to, about impressive biodiversity in Berlin, and other cities, is something of a red herring.  To be sure, it is a very interesting and important subject.  And I am very happy to read of your own valuable consciousness-raising efforts, bird-wise, in Beijing.  Carry on, and best wishes!  But those matters are not quite to the point.

As I see it, Price is doing something revolutionary in the field of aesthetics.  Tom Philpott gets it, when he says that for Price's purpose, the homely, quaint, historic, lovable West Village in NYC is not preferable to any of the countless recently built districts, with unclear connexions to anything like a "city," whatever the postmark says, in Southern, Midwestern and Western states.

(And along those lines, we should hope for good environmentalist blogging in August, 2008, from the GOP convention in Minneapolis - Saint Paul, and even more from the Democratic convention in Denver.  In 2004, Boston and NYC were not so interesting.)

"Urban architecture" and "nature" are categories that are already powerfully defined by centuries of critical writing.  Subjects in the former might include an acropolis, a piazza, a citadel, a boulevard, a park, perhaps a train station.  The study, and the appreciation, of vernacular and neighborhood architecture are relatively recent.

The latter category, "nature," in principle includes everything that the empire of building has left untouched.  But "domesticated nature," e.g. parks and gardens, has always been allowed.  The spectacular, picturesque aspects of wild scenery were especially appreciated by Romantic-era explorers in the US; and our National Parks, founded upon early, wonder-filled reports of Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon and Yosemite, are within that aesthetic tradition.  

Even now, the way we look at "natural landscapes" is directed by clear and definite values.  So, the coast of New Jersey, however delightful its smooth, sandy beaches and its raunchy night-life (the original Las Vegas: "what happens here, stays here"), cannot compare, aesthetically, to the rocky, tree-lined coast of Maine.

And the land-locked state of Colorado, through which runs the Colorado River, and which is spectacularly beautiful in just about every corner, naturally receives a great deal more visitors than the land-locked state of North Dakota, through which runs the historic Missouri River.  I crossed North Dakota by bus many times, traveling to and fro between NYC and Montana.  The stretch between Fargo and Bismarck is an existential experience.  There is nothing so flat and so bleak.  It is ideal for deep philosophizing; or else, for a good, undisturbed nap.

Now, conventional aesthetics, regarding both urban architecture and "nature," will be with us for a long time.  And that is OK.  But Price is challenging us to put those aesthetics aside momentarily.

Consider: An artist sits on a sidewalk in NYC, with sketchpad and pencil, and looks across the street at an array of buildings, sidewalk, trees, street surface, parked vehicles, etc., and takes it all in.  To be sure, there may be within that frame some remarkable, even beautiful objects: an elegant sculptural relief, a mosaic, a bow window, a wrought-iron railing, a pin oak, a Jaguar.  But the artist takes it all in, without judgment, including the blank spaces that do not catch our eye, and such frankly ugly items as trash cans and gutter detritus.

Not exactly like that, but similarly, we can sit anywhere, including in any part of any city, and make similar close observations; and if anything those observations would be more thoughtful, more historical, deeper.  That brick, that window, that step, that section of sidewalk, that curbstone, that piece of street: they were all fashioned and put in place by human beings.  And each one of those human beings, most of them perhaps now long dead, has a story.  And the materials used for each of those objects have their stories.  And all the persons who took part in collecting, preparing and sending those materials have their stories.  And part of all those stories is why some materials were preferred, and others not; who discovered the materials, and judged them to be usable and marketable; what history lies behind the skilled education in arts, crafts and techniques of the respective workers; why do some of the persons in these stories end up rich, and others very poor, even despised; who are the consumers, the residents, the passers-by.

To quibble about how this should be made to fit into urban architecture criticism, and nature writing, seems irrelevant.  Price is exploring an entirely new continent, and her subject matter calls for no less than epic poetry, and grand opera.

Chickens deserve our true friendship! So do fish! So do other sentient beings! Let us learn to be kind.

Yes, cities can be diverse. Gardens are diverse too, specifically a garden with tons of breeds unknown by nature and bred by humans for their aesthetic qualities. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that, it's actually quite wonderful in its own way. And there is potential for very wonderful cities, I know quite a few landscape architects and urban planning majors who are in it specifically for that reason.

I'm just a little bit bewildered as to the comparison between a city, where food scraps from human consumption and a complete lack of predation sans cars is allowing explosions of racoon, skunk and deer populations (at least in US). But just because we have these creatures does not imply that cities are more biodiverse. They are just easier to see, because there may be more of them and they are fatter. Plus animals that are habituated to humans are much less shy, when their rural counterparts hide out as much as possible to avoid the unnecessary 'heat'.

That said, I am by no means against cities or towns. I would find it extremely difficult to live by myself on the side of Route XX, without a community. I'm just saying that despite the 'greenness' of Manhattanites, no one seems to mention the tremendous amount of sprawl that Manhattan causes from Trenton, NJ to Babylon, NY to East Haven, CT. The majority of these people do not commute by public transit. But to each his own, I am not trying to reduce the higher end qualities of city life. I just can't afford it.

But all of this is beyond Price's point, which is that these naturally occurring creatures called humans have organized themselves into habitats called cities -- whether green or not -- and nature writers are well advised to investigate this phenomenon.

Victual Reality

Comparison between a city and what?

ATreyger makes a couple of very good observations in his last message, but to appreciate them, we should step back and review.

The post-Jenny-Price discussion has touched on these three quite distinct subjects:

1.  Price's basic idea: Cities, if they are correctly understood, are natural phenomena.  As Tom Philpott nicely put it, they are "as natural as a bird's nest."  And so, they deserve to be observed and described in precisely the kind of writing that conventionally has been used for observing and describing places that are far from human habitation, which we conventionally call "nature writing."

2.  Inasmuch as the building of cities and the conjunction of many human beings in them cause the destruction or expulsion of many plants, fungi, animals, etc., we may very well indulge in the conventional prejudice that cities are by definition "anti-natural."  David Owen nicely confronted that prejudice head on, and Tom Philpott has now nicely summarized the argument in brief.

3.  How are we to assess the very numerous observations of quite visible birds and mammals, whom we assumed normally to shun human presence and the places of human habitation, and indeed to have been utterly expelled from those places?  Apparently, many are opportunists, and can thrive in human-made environments.  Not only that, but some (e.g. white-tailed deer, peregrines) are surely more numerous now in urban/suburban regions, thanks to human intrusions and effects of many kinds, than they were anciently.  Does this mean that cities should therefore be considered good, "green" environments?  Ummm ...

On sprawl, and assigning blame: Tom Philpott is right, but ATreyger is righter, for now at least.  The urban and suburban development of the NYC metropolitan region is intimately and necessarily related to the interior nature of Manhattan as source of wealth.

New Jersey and, to a lesser extent, Connecticut were as deeply, personally affected by the sudden fall of the towers on 9/11 as New York.

There are many cities that just stop, once you get beyond the buildings, and open land begins.  But NYC is not like that at all.  It seems desirable to analyse urban centers along those lines: for starters, which attract sprawling residential or industrial developments, and which do not; and in each case, why.

Chickens deserve our true friendship! So do fish! So do other sentient beings! Let us learn to be kind.

Another book worth reading on this subject is Donald Shoup's "The High Cost of Free Parking." Shoup points out that a large part of the reason why U.S. city design is so poor is that local regulations require that huge numbers of parking spaces be provided around all businesses and residences.  Unregulated locales tend to follow suit, providing enough spaces to ensure that everyone can park for free.  Even where parking is charged for, prices tend to be set too low to cover the cost of providing and maintaining the spaces.  Free and subsidized parking amounts to a subsidy for the automobile industry to the tune of hundreds of billions of dollars every year.  Free parking also means that everything is placed far apart, making walking mostly impractical.  

Paula Craig Member USSEE (United States Society for Ecological Economics)

    In this eloquent and comprehensive work, Louv makes a convincing case for ensuring that children (and adults) maintain access to pristine natural areas, and even, when those are not available, any bit of nature that we can preserve, such as vacant lots. I agree with him 100%. Just as we never really outgrow our need for our parents (and grandparents, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, cousins, etc.), humanity has never outgrown, and can never outgrow, our need for the companionship and mutual benefits of other species.

    But what strikes me most about this book is how Louv is able, in spite of 310 pages of text, to completely ignore the two most obvious problems with his thesis: (1) We want and need to have contact with other species, but neither we nor Louv bother to ask whether they want to have contact with us! In fact, most species of wildlife obviously do not like having humans around, and can thrive only if we leave them alone! Or they are able tolerate our presence, but only within certain limits. (2) We and Louv never ask what type of contact is appropriate! He includes fishing, hunting, building "forts", farming, ranching, and all other manner of recreation. Clearly, not all contact with nature leads to someone becoming an advocate and protector of wildlife. While one kid may see a beautiful area and decide to protect it, what's to stop another from seeing it and thinking of it as a great place to build a house or create a ski resort? Developers and industrialists must come from somewhere, and they no doubt played in the woods with the future environmentalists!

    It is obvious, and not a particularly new idea, that we must experience wilderness in order to appreciate it. But it is equally true, though ("conveniently") never mentioned, that we need to stay out of nature, if the wildlife that live there are to survive. I discuss this issue thoroughly in the essay, "Wildlife Need Habitat Off-Limits to Humans!", at http://home.pacbell.net/mjvande/india3.

 &nbs... especially http://home.pacbell.net/mjvande/ecocity3, http://home.pacbell.net/mjvande/sc8, and Wilson, Edward O., The Future of Life. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2002.


http://home.pacbell.net/mjvande

Well, there are great surprises when nature seems to inveigle its way into New York. One of my favorite passages of John Kieran's classic Natural History of New York City is his description of a red fox padding along a train rail line in Van Cordtland Park in the Bronx, probably down from the wilds of Westchester.

I've been similarly surprised and privileged. Once I saw a hawk swoop down in Brooklyn's Prospect Park and snag a squirrel just a few yards away from me (luckily he didn't choose the mini dachshund I was walking!).

And twice I've seen wild turkeys in NYC. Most recently, about a year ago, I saw one grazing on the lawn in front of the American Museum of Natural History!

Of course, one has similar moments while walking in the woods. It's just that much more remarkable in the city.