I came across two Tom turkeys on a dirt road in Alton this week. This being April, which is mating season for the Eastern wild turkey (Meleagris gallopavo), they were in full show-off mode. Unlike Tiger Woods (Meaculpis puttfordough), turkeys don’t have to apologize for their instinct to attract and maintain a harem. Then again, turkeys don’t have lucrative endorsement contracts with Nike—though I do know of a duck who has a pretty good deal going with an insurance company.
If you’ve never seen a wild turkey in full feather jacket, I can tell you it’s impressive. Get two of them competing for attention and you get a display of self-important puffery almost as overblown as Karl Rove and Rahm Emanuel going head-to-head on “Hardball.” Whether in nature or on Sunday morning political talk shows, such performances have come to be expected by their respective audiences, and usually they both yield similar results—somebody lays a few eggs.
The Eastern wild turkey is one of the wildlife success stories in New Hampshire, given that it wasn’t so long ago that they couldn’t be found here. In fact, they had been absent for more than 100 years, largely because of large-scale deforestation and overhunting. The first attempt to reintroduce the species to the state came forty years ago, in 1970. It didn’t work. A second attempt in 1975 succeeded, and the species has since proliferated across the Granite State almost as prodigiously as lobbyists in D.C.—there are an estimated 25,000 wild turkeys in the state today. (To my knowledge no one has been able to count all the lobbyists in D.C.)
1970 was also the first year that Earth Day was acknowledged, and its 40th anniversary will be celebrated in many ways on April 22. During that forty year span, we have become more adept at bringing certain species of wildlife back from the brink of extinction, as well as addressing the quality of our water and air.
Sadly, we have also continued many of the indiscriminate habits that squander the natural resources on which all species—including humans (homo sapiens, or “wise man”)—rely. In fact, based on our ongoing unwise use of those resources, one could argue that we flatter ourselves too much with our own Latin name—perhaps homo self-extinctens would be more descriptive. But I like to believe that we are still evolving and adapting.
A few years ago Ted Nordhaus and Michael Shellenberger wrote a provocative essay called “The Death of Environmentalism,” and then expanded their ideas into a book titled Break Through: Why We Can’t Leave Saving the Planet to Environmentalists. They argue that the modern environmental movement, launched perhaps with Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring in 1962 and springboarded to the mainstream consciousness via Earth Day in 1970, has misinterpreted its own origins.
Rather than being a reaction to some new awareness of the damage we were causing, our society’s interest in environmental issues was sparked by our affluence. They argue that only when we are able move beyond basic material needs (food, housing, safety) do we turn to post-materialistic needs, like personal freedom, meaningful work, and a desire to protect ecosystems. The upshot, they say, is that environmentalists make a mistake when they argue against growth and prosperity, because we need prosperity in order to focus on the environment.
Meanwhile, environmentalists might argue that humans’ ability to feed and shelter ourselves in the future depends entirely on our ability to wisely manage limited natural resources, and that our growth and prosperity are unsustainable over time.
I wonder if they’re all correct. Our ability and willingness to think beyond our next meal and a warm, safe home tonight depend on a robust economy that allows us to meet those basic needs. And our ability to engender any economy at all—including one that provides our basic needs—depends entirely on our willingness to make wise use of natural resources.
But it starts with a belief that we can find the balance. Forty years of Earth Days suggests that people care. The Eastern wild turkey teaches us that we have the potential to do better if we are willing to manage the resource. Who knows, maybe we can even figure out what to do with all those lobbyists (Megamoni corporatiens) in D.C.
Jack Savage is vice-president for communications for the Society for the Protection of New Hampshire Forests. He can be reached at jsavage@forestsociety.org.