Lately, in preparation for a behavioral sequence we hope to record, I have been studying the behavior of dragonflies (fig. 1 in our production logo). Our local dragonfly expert is Bob Grobe, who was generous enough to come over a few weeks back and share some of what he knows. The other night was a particularly rich one for dragonflies. The light was fading. I looked up and saw dozens on the patrol, rapidly seeking -then catching- mosquitoes. So many above that I could hear a faint roar, like a miniature air force. Before and after the use of DDT, dragonflies have long had the assignment of pest control. One of the species many tasks in its supposed 300 million year existence. I wonder what dragonflies did when they were the size of great black-backed gulls? Fossil records indicate that one had a 2.5 foot wide wingspan. That’s scary. Something fierce is within these amazing creatures.

As a visual person, I’m also astounded at the complexity and omniscience of their eyes. For starters, they see 360 degrees. 30,000 individual lens, all sending light information to the brain about the world around it. All around it. Is everything in focus? I wonder. And imagine the complexity of those brains, to integrate and process all that data… and then move from information to task.

My reading also reveals a curious story -source uncertain- that dragonflies were once believed to deter children from spending time outdoors. Apparently, they sewed shut the eyelids of the bold child who dared to sleep out under the stars.

“If you had as much fun stuff to do inside when you were a kid, you’d have been inside more too!” This is a memorable comment from an eleven year old boy to his father, an accomplished fisherman and outdoorsman here on the coast of Maine. That father is a friend of mine. His son, a friend of my son’s. Often, I’ve found myself mulling over its significance, within my own household. Pretty astute comment, actually. Aside from the lure of television, not much interesting DID happen inside when we were kids.

To care, we need to know. To know, we need to experience. If we cannot get outside enough, how will we ever care? Sometimes, a creative solution can bridge the generational and media gaps within a family. Like the one that the pastor Tri Robinson writes about in a chapter called The Garden Shed: Practical Ideas (from his book Saving God’s Green Earth).

“I asked people to enlarge personal pictures of them enjoying the outdoors and bring them to church for display in our lobby for an art exhibit. If people didn’t have any pictures, I encouraged them to get out there so they could take some.” Another way of knowing and talking about what’s happening outside.

The following clip represents thoughts from E.O. Wilson concerning this parable.

Cal DeWitt responds to the question “What is the meaning of Noah’s Ark?” in the video clip below.

Tomorrow, a clip from E.O. Wilson addresses the same question.

This week I hope to post a few clips regarding Noah’s Ark, an enduring parable conveyed to billions over the years, and familiar to many Americans. Noah’s Ark has been a significant point within two interviews for Behold the Earth to date. I also touched on it in conversation with the scientist and author Carl Safina over this past weekend. Carl and the well-known pastor Ken Wilson from the Vineyard Church of Ann Arbor have started a group called the Friendship Collaborative. What is the meaning of Noah’s Ark? I asked Carl. Earth is the ark, was his initial reply, and the rising water feels like today’s rising impact of people. I hope to pursue this further with him.

Tomorrow, I will post the reply of ecologist and evangelical leader Cal DeWitt. And then the reply of biologist E.O. Wilson. Collectively, these replies help convey a partial picture of American identity in the natural world.

The image at right was created in 1846 by the painter Edward Hicks, and can be viewed at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.