My life, as far as I recall, began outside. In seaside rockpools, under the shade of trees and camping in the Australian bush. It’s in these interactions with natural spaces that we discover not only ourselves, but the interwoven threads of existence around us.
The ancient forest of the Yarra Ranges
Yet as we grow, for many that sense of connection begins to fade. It recedes until it’s little more than a whisper as we stroll, headphones on, through a city park on our morning commute. It becomes an annoyance when rain ruins our weekend BBQ—an obstacle to overcome. Our appreciation for the natural world lays dormant, waiting for us to pause. To listen and reconnect to the needs of ecosystems and lives beyond our own.
Growing to Appreciate the Natural World
My love of nature took hold on childhood walks through the Australian bush. Often we’d venture out on camping trips or lengthy hikes, and while those hikes led to a scenic lookout or a waterfall, it’s the smaller experiences—not the destination itself—that I’ve now come to value. Searching for wildflowers in the scrub. Listening to distant birdcalls. Breathing in the bush after rain.
Wild wallaby at Cape Woolamai, Phillip Island
Later, in my teens I’d bring my camera on trips, looking for native wildlife in the distance or fungi clinging to the underside of a damp rockshelf. Photography presented a new way of viewing (and appreciating) the natural world. In my search for better images I’d study and pay attention to the intricacies of these natural phenomena—the way a wave forms and breaks over a reef, and how lush waterfall scenes come to life after a recent downpour.
These visceral experiences in (and aesthetic appreciation for) nature shaped my understanding of the complex world around me.
A Moral Obligation
Having developed a finer eye for natural landscapes through my photography, I began paying more attention to society’s impact on these scenes of natural beauty. Grand vistas tainted by radio towers and old-growth forested felled for profit.
Too often we view nature as a resource to exploit, conquer or harvest. Immediate gains are the easy option—just look at the marshmallow test. Yet we ought to expand our scope over millennia, not merely quarterly profits.
We have a moral obligation to safeguard wild spaces for future generations. What a tragedy it’d be for our grandchildren to only know animals in zoos or manicured lawns in city parks? We need to value long-term lives and experiences over short-term resources.
As Uncle Ben said, in perhaps my favourite line from any superhero flick, ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’
Final Thoughts
Lush tree ferns and giant mountain ash, Black Spur
Experiencing nature first-hand reminds us that we’re all connected. That there’s wonder in untamed natural spaces, and that our actions have consequences. It reassures us that there’s something greater than our own existence.
And personally, it’s in nature where I’ve forged many meaningful memories. Hikes spent connecting with my parents, cousins and grandparents. Years later I still reflect fondly on these shared experiences.
My stance on conservation is both altruistic and also selfish. I want to continue taking photos of stunning natural spaces. I want to visit Australia’s lush temperate rainforests with my grandkids in 50 years. Yet that selfishness doesn’t come from a place of one-sided exploitation. We can conserve and benefit at the same time. Conservation isn’t a zero-sum game.