Three Kids and Seven Turtles - a conservation drama

                                                                Introduction

 

Brad Semel and Melissa Grycan have thrillingly important and impossible jobs (see Endnote). They have responsibilities, among others, for the State’s endangered species and the habitats they depend on. For example, Blanding’s turtle numbers have been plummeting – and not just from loss of their prairie habitat. Their biggest challenge starts with the lack of apex predators (wolves, pumas, and bears) … which has led to an overabundance of meso-predators (especially raccoons) which eat all the eggs soon after they're laid, year after year. Most all Blanding’s turtles found today are old. Many sites have a few, but no young, and no future without some help. So Brad and Melissa have taken initiative to protect turtle eggs whenever they can. If the young turtles get past the egg stage and disperse, they can cope. But it takes hours to find a single turtle before she lays her eggs. With hundreds of other species and tens of thousands of acres of needy habitat, how sustainable is that? Friends volunteers offered to help, and Melissa welcomed them, if they’d organize it. The post below was written by one such volunteer, Sonya Siefering, a busy mother of three with no college science background. And yet ... 

Blanding's turtles spend less time swimming in ponds or sitting on logs. This is a turtle of vast prairie habitats, or at least it used to be. They reach sexual maturity at about twenty and can live to be seventy. 

A Voyage of Discovery, Staying Home

by Sonya Siefering – Friends Volunteer

 

My family and I live 15 minutes from Illinois Beach Nature Preserve. Over the last 25 years, we have enjoyed its waves and dunes, walking the paths, and trying to identify birds, plants, and insects. Raising three kids nearby has been powerfully influenced by Lake Michigan and the Preserve. This changing shoreline inspired my oldest daughter, Bronte, to take up birding and learn and teach sailing to kids. She sneaks in environmental info as she talks to her students. Recently she’s added the Preserve’s cactus and Blanding’s turtles to her repertoire.

 

My son, Rafael, and I talk often of how our house is near heavily polluted industrial sites in Waukegan, and these sites in turn are adjacent to the amazing prairie, savanna, dunes, and beach Nature Preserve. We’ve discussed the history surrounding this State Park that I found in old newspapers, and we feel incredibly lucky to have access to such a treasure. It has been like discovering another planet: there's a "dead river," bizarre Endangered plants like downy yellow paintbrush and Pitcher’s thistle, not to mention the Endangered animals like piping plovers and Blanding’s turtles. One of our goals is to try to find Karner blue butterflies which have not been seen for years; we both like watching and identifying insects. I will always be in awe of Lake Michigan's seiches and the way the shoreline constantly changes.

 

Rafael and I started with the Dunesland Restoration Group in March. He's a college student, studying environmental science and biology, and his course schedule worked out that he had free time mid-March until September. I had seen Facebook notifications about volunteer work at The Beach, so I thought, why not? The first several workdays we cut and burned invasive trees that were killing the rare vegetation underneath. Rafael was much braver throwing them on the fire than I was. I was dubious about the fires at first, but I appreciated their purpose.

 

Soon I realized the Dunesland volunteers were truly an A-team of knowledgeable and dedicated people and generous teachers. Within this tribe, some people recognize bird and frog calls, identify native and invasive plants instantly, know the soil composition and all the tree species, just everything! And they’re organized, thoughtful, and kind. I feel like a Kindergartner in a wonderful classroom.

Growing up on a farm, I spent most of my time outside. My parents taught us some tree, insect, plant and bird IDs. I had a favorite bur oak in one of the pastures. I like to read about native environments, and I’ve naturalized my home property as much as I can take on every year. But volunteering with the Dunesland group, showed I'd only skimmed the surface. Indeed it’s like taking classes in ecosystems, geology, biology and forestry every weekend. I study as much as I can during the week to try to catch up with what I half learned the Saturday before.

Then the turtle season began, and I volunteered. Yes, I could help a turtle across the road. I’ve carried chickens and piglets, so how different could this be? Then, one of the lead volunteers, Regina, sent the spread sheet, maps and instructions. This Endangered species is declining mostly because elevated populations of raccoons eat most of their eggs. So I’d be locating and collecting female turtles for egg protection. Anxiety hit; this was big. They’re wild and weigh three or four pounds. What was I thinking? Bronte gave me the speech I had used on Rafael a month earlier about comfort zones and moving ahead even when you’re scared. Ultimately, I thought the likelihood of actually finding a turtle ready to lay eggs was remote. I watched videos online and read a few articles.

I asked Ali Fakhari, a field rep with the Friends, who’s helping coordinate the project, if I could shadow him one evening, so he explained the plan, grabbed a plastic tub, and off we went. He chose the north unit, which was great because I hadn’t walked there before. We hiked through sand prairie for two hours and didn’t find anything, but I learned a lot about where to look, and Ali is fun to hang out with.

A few days later I set off with my youngest daughter, Ivye. She grabbed the tub and asked, “How many turtles do you think will fit?” I explained that this process was more like hunting for unicorns – we probably wouldn’t find a single turtle. Her enthusiasm deflated, but she enjoyed playing in the sand at the beach. She’s twelve and the moods are as difficult to gauge as the seiche in the lake. I needed to plan these turtle evenings better. I convinced my husband, Jerreau, to hustle home from work one evening so all three of us could “hunt.” We took a blanket and water bottles, Ivye played in the sand, they skipped rocks on the water, and I hunted for turtles. Still no luck. The next trip we added in picnic dinner, and our system for beach evenings was set, but it was chilly that evening, and still nothing.

Then Ali sent an email informing us that park staff had found a female the night before, but she had already laid her eggs somewhere. Again, my husband and daughter skipped rocks, and I searched. The sun was setting behind the trees, and it was getting late. I told myself to look until 7:50pm when we needed to head home. Then I saw a large, oval, dark “rock” ahead. As I approached, I realized it was a Blanding’s using its back legs to dig a depression in the sand. This critter was big. It hissed a little when I touched it.

I yelled for Jerreau and Ivye, who waved back from the beach, thinking I was just checking in to say hello. I yelled “TURTLE” very loudly, and Ivye came running, holding out the tub.

They both started asking me questions, and I had to stop and think through instructions. Ivye went to get water from the lake for the turtle tub. Jerreau started taking photos. I sent photos to Ali and was soooo relieved he called to coach me. Yellow throat = Blanding’s, yes. Flat belly = female, yes. Digging depressions in the sand = displaying laying behavior, yes. Then I called Melissa after sending photos, hoping she would pick up, at 8:00 in the evening!

Melissa is the official northern Illinois Department of Natural Resources scientist and goddess who supervises staff and volunteer work at this and many other parks. Intimidating. What if she was annoyed I was calling her at night? But after two seconds I realized my fears were silly. Melissa is one of the most patient, kind people I have ever had the pleasure to talk with. She said she’d contact the ranger to open the nature center for us. She was excited about the find! I remembered to put a pin on the map to record our location. Ivye told me not to worry because she could remember where we’d been when we needed to take the turtle back.

Jerreau, Ivye and I packed up all our picnic stuff, secured the turtle in the tub, took more photos, and made a beeline for the van, with the turtle thumping around loudly in the tub. The walk back felt like forever, and it was getting dark quickly. We were close to the parking lot when Ivye yelled “TURTLE!”

And there she was, another little Blanding’s, hiding behind some grass. We put our gloves back on, and I called Melissa – “Is it okay to put two turtles in one tub?” She was thrilled. As we got closer to the car I saw a tiny snake. I had been eager to see a DeKay’s snake and asked Jerreau to get a video. I think he thought I was losing my mind. He pointed out that it was dark, we had two turtles banging around in a bin, and a ranger waiting for us at the nature center. I’m lucky he’s patient!

We were quiet in the car, all three of us trying to digest what had just happened and thinking about what to do next. Jerreau drove while I held the tub on my lap. Two turtles thumped around. Might the big one harm the little one? Melissa was texting about access to the nature center. I must have used the phrase “be careful, they’re endangered” about twenty times that evening, mostly to remind myself.

Ranger John left the nature center open for us. He had just flipped on some lights, left the door ajar, and went back to work patrolling the park. It felt a little like we were breaking in. My husband was reading the Home Safe chip reader instructions while Ivye put water in the big tub. We slowly weighed and measured the biggest turtle first, since she had been confined longer.

I filled out the data sheet for each turtle. It felt chaotic even though we tried to make it scientific.

When they were both in the big tub to spend the night, we apologized for intruding into their lives by offering them sardine treats, hoping they’d forgive us. We took more photos and let Melissa know we were finally heading home. It was 10:00pm by then.

Our daughter, Bronte, was waiting for us, a little worried because it was so late. We showed her the photos, shared the saga, took showers, and checked for ticks. After posting photos of our two turtle finds on the Dunesland Group WhatsApp, I sent photos to Rafael, on a conservation internship in Belize. He called right back, and we told the tale again. We were so tired, but none of us slept very well. I was worried we had found the turtles too late. Had they already laid their eggs to end up as raccoon food? I had dreams about my mom. Ivye woke up and said she had a weird dream about riding a turtle. She dreamed about riding unicorns when she was younger.

Next day Melissa let me know that both turtles were gravid and doing well. She found IDs for them based on identifying notches in their shells. Olga “the bigger one” was probably about 50 years old and laid 16 eggs! The little one was Vasquez, who laid 11 eggs. I met with Melissa the following morning so Ivye and I could take Olga and Vasquez back home to where we picked them up. I thanked the turtles for sharing their eggs and providing twenty-seven little globes of hope, not that they had any choice. Every time I talk or text with Melissa, she shares more and more information. Again, I feel like a Kindergartner, but it’s an amazing classroom.

We’ve found a total of five turtles so far. My husband has been looking more seriously, and he’s found two! One of his finds was a “new” turtle who had never been tagged before. She was little but really feisty, and laid 12 eggs! He decided to name her Pistachio because he wanted a name that would make people smile. I wish Rafael was here to hunt with us, but he’s having a different, amazing life adventure.

Some older turtles have rough yellowed shells.
This younger one had spots "like constellations in a starry sky."
This little turtle is the one we named Artemis.
She laid an impressive 16 eggs. 

Ivye and I drove out to Moraine Hills State Park, where Melissa was so kind to show us the incubation containers. What an amazing operation! And Melissa is incredible to manage all that along with her dozens of other projects. My grandmother incubated eggs and raised fowl, so I know it takes care, caution and organization. Ivye and I picked up two turtles from Moraine to bring back to the beach, hoping to help Melissa a bit with time. It must be wild for Melissa to schedule into her week all the extra driving, locating extra incubators, securing a larger number of eggs than predicted, etc. Again, she’s amazing!

On the prairie near the beach, I can almost see what it might have been like 300 hundred years ago, with grassy, low, soft “dunes” along the strips of prairie and wetland that parallel Lake Michigan. We’ve found three turtles here. But now there are locust, oak and cottonwood trees trying to take over different sections of this soft, grassy strip. Melissa will consider whether removing those trees might improve habitat for endangered Blanding’s turtles and the prairie overall. She asked me to send an email with a proposal. Maybe it would help?

In all, we found seven turtles at Illinois Beach. I just got an update from Melissa – our total is 111 beautiful eggs! Two more were found and eggs protected at Chain of Lakes State Park. We’ve contributed to a legacy, and we’re proud to be on the team.

Post-script

 

“As we found our last turtle, we also witnessed a small group of people operating a motorbike and a 4-wheeler on the beach, spinning wildly. As we left we also found their tire tracks on almost the exact site where we found Pistachio. I alerted Melissa, and she called the Zion Police, but the officer arrived after the men had gone. I spoke to a family in the Hosah parking lot as we were heading to the nature center last night, and they had also seen everything. They had spoken directly with Mike, the responding Zion officer (who they know personally), so I hope the beach will be patrolled more frequently.”

 

Destruction of Nature Preserve habitats should become a thing of the past. If people witness it, call 911 right away!

Endnote

 

Who’s Who? And more details. 

 

Melissa Grycan has overall responsibility for the ecological management of Illinois Beach and many other state parks. She’s the Natural Heritage Biologist with the Illinois Department of Natural Resources for the northeastern part of the state.

 

Brad Semel is Endangered Species Specialist for northern Illinois, also with the Illinois Department of Natural Resources.

 

Some staff and volunteers with the Friends of Illinois Nature Preserves are highlighted in previous posts on this blog, especially Story 9 of Nine Stories. 

 

While pulling malignant white sweet clover last year, Friends volunteers ran across a baby Blanding’s turtle that likely was one that Brad Semel had rescued the previous fall. 

 

Many rare or endangered species are being lost, even from protected conservation land, because of invasive species, lack of fire, and predator imbalance – threats like those facing the Blanding’s turtle. Harder to understand but even more important is the loss of high-biodiversity remnant natural areas – wetlands, woodlands, and prairies. These harbor thousands more rare species and ancient relationships among species that may be important to the future of the Earth ecosystem – and (an easier sell to some people) to human medicine, agriculture, science, and economy. 

In one of the midwest's most significant natural areas along Lake Michigan here, the larger prairie/wetland/savanna habitats of the Blanding’s turtle and more than sixty other endangered species, credit also goes to the staff and volunteers of the Lake County Forest Preserves, Zion Park District, and the adjacent Chiwaukee Prairie, just across the border in Wisconsin. Yet all are spread too thin. Neither Melissa Grycan nor Brad Semel, with enormous responsibilities, supervises even a single full-time support staff. So much more is needed. The public cares, but is insufficiently informed. Government doesn’t provide adequate resources for issues that people don’t understand and care about. We all can spread the word and help build support for needed conservation action. 

 

Thus, the contributions of Ivye, Bronte, Rafael, Jerreau, and Sonya are important on many levels.

Acknowledgements

On-the-spot photos by Ivye and Jerreau Beaudoin.

Well-told story by Sonya Siefering. 

Proofing and edits by Rebeccah Hartz and Eriko Kojima.

Nine Stories. Part 3: Saving a Fen - Heroine in an Office Job - Doubled Burns.

Story 7. A Fen In Need

The largest high-quality wetland in the state was then called Spring Hill Farm Fen. It included hundreds of acres of high prairie bluffs sloping down to fens, spring runs, seeps, floating fen mats, sedge meadows, and a stream.  

Success was close. The Nature Conservancy had an option to buy it, backed by an approved grant that would reimburse half the cost. But our excellent director at the time, Ralph Brown—whom I don’t criticize, as he was a totally dedicated, smart, hard-working, creative acquirer of land—made a mistake. The land had been on sale for many years, with no takers. Ralph thought we had offered too much money. His assessment was that we could acquire it at a reduced price. So, on the day the option would expire, he had a meeting with the owners and offered them cash - but at a lower price. In his career, Ralph worked a lot of magic with such negotiations, but this time the owners said “no.” He left saying, “Okay, this is how much we were able to raise so far; let me try to raise some more and come back to you soon.”

From rare gentians and milkweeds to rare butterflies, this fen was rich. But it could all be lost, soon. Above, the grass pink orchid. 

He informed the board and said he’d try to make a new deal soon. The next day, one of our board members, Arnold Sobel, president of Materials Services Corporation, bought the fen to mine it for gravel.

This was a shocker beyond belief. Some members thought Sobel should be booted off the board. Others said such confrontation was not The Nature Conservancy way, and we should negotiate with him.

But his negotiating position was essentially, “We’ll give you the land for free after we mine it, so you should be happy.” He was not willing to hear that the mining would destroy the hydrology and then the biodiversity. 

Losing a top priority conservation goal because of a last minute mistake? There was great turmoil and angst among the dedicated Illinois Conservancy board members, the Illinois Department of Natural Resources, and conservationists generally. Then, in contrast, I got a call from one of the national leaders of the Conservancy telling me that we’d really screwed up, that this was a major corporation with a lot of money, and we seemed to be spoiling that relationship. So our top priority, he thought, was to apologize and repair it.

Ignoring that advice, I had a plan: convince the new owner that the site was deteriorating from lack of stewardship, and they should authorize us to begin to give it good care. The fellow appointed to negotiate with me was Material Services' Vice President for Land and Facilities (or some such title). I forget his name. He reminded me that this massive company was not just gravel; they owned the Empire State Building, General Dynamics (the builder of U.S. nuclear submarines), and a great deal more.

As I had long hair and didn’t wear suits, he was inclined not to like me. The Vietnam war had recently been lost, and the Cold War with the Soviet Union was raging. He told me he’d had trouble with people like me, for example, protestors outside their nuclear sub factory… and workers within, who conducted such sabotage as driving forklifts into the nose cones of the subs, managing to do millions of dollars of damage when no one was looking, in seconds. He told me that workers on break would go out into the street by the factory where vendors walked up and down with trays of whiskey and disabled half his employees, so he had to buy every business on the street and then the street itself, so he could control it. I did not take the bait but instead gave him level-headed and reasonable responses. I might have agreed with the protestors, but I could sympathize with his perspective. In the end, he approved my plan.

The underlying strategy was to build constituency for saving the fen. A strong constituency wields power.

We kicked it off with a huge celebration under a vast tent, with displays, featured speakers, and hiking tours. Soon, a massive workforce cut brush and helped generate media weekly. On our first burn, I invited the local mayor to light the fire. She got a front-page photo and was happy.

One day, in my office at the Conservancy, I got a call from the Chicago Botanic Garden. Two high-ranking biologists from the Soviet Union were visiting. They were bored with the Japanese garden and displays of trees from the Himalayas. “We go to those places," they said. "We hoped to see nature here.” I agreed to take them to Spring Hill Farm Fen. They were so happy to get away from soirées, cocktail parties, and lectures. Defense contractor General Dynamics was apoplectic that I was bringing these Russians to their property. I said, “We need the publicity to build the volunteer force for stewardship.” The mayor gave a great welcoming speech. General Dynamics sent two guys in shiny suits and shiny shoes to monitor us. We walked those poor guys through deep wetlands that utterly thrilled the Russians. We scientists largely conversed in Latin names. Bit by bit, increasingly, Spring Hill Farm Fen became the state’s most visible conservation priority.

A bittersweet ending: many other people, dressed in suits, deserve credit for nailing down the final deal. It's now called Lake-in-the-Hills Fen Nature Preserve. No one mined the fens or the prairie bluffs above them. But much of the gravel behind the bluffs was hauled away. Will that loss of limy gravel and the resulting hydrologic disruption seriously hurt the fen? Only time will tell.

Story 8: Heroine in an Office Job

 

Mary Laria wanted more stewards at more sites. Other staff (former supporters of the moratorium, but that's too long a story for here) did not. Laria was assistant director of the Cook County Forest Preserves under Steve Bylina. She persevered, finding a grant to fund two organizers. One of the preserves chosen for the new initiative was Somme Woods. The kickoff was September 20, 2014. See our flyer, below:

Stewards had long worked on Somme's western 75 acres, but little attention had been paid to the 180 acres to the east. Josh Coles was hired by Laria’s grant, and Cecil Hynds-Riddle received a fellowship from the Woods and Prairie foundation to help out. Soon at Somme Woods East there was a thriving new community of mostly younger stewards. All were encouraged to contribute as they felt inspired to. New leaders emerged slowly, in part because of complex requirements to be officially authorized by staff in the central office. At the end of one “workday,” as we had our wrap-up talk, volunteer Ben Fisher said, “It’s too hard. Couldn’t there be something like a micro steward, to make it easier?” We thought about that and ultimately defined “zone stewards” – people who wanted to take responsibility for about 20 acres each and provide leadership there informally, with staff-authorized mentors backing them up. Soon the site benefitted from a dozen zone stewards, working and learning as they got their certifications. 

Then one day Josh met Eriko Kojima, who changed all. Wise, humble, and hard-working, she supported and assisted everyone. She gradually adopted a long-term mission. At first she had been captivated by seed-gathering and what those seeds needed for thriving futures. Then she set herself a goal – “to be a good steward.” As she mastered invasives control, brushpile burns, and so much more, she did become a very good steward of her zone, but more importantly her spirit and social skills transformed the team. 

Somme East stewards with ancient bur oak. Photo by Eriko Kojima.

Eriko built community. She helped many become zone stewards and other types of lead contributors by facilitating their journeys through the Forest Preserve District certification processes and, most important, on-the-ground skills training and ecological understanding. She became the Dot Wade, John Balaban, and Judy Pollock of Somme Woods. For volunteers on “the path to stewardship” she opened bottlenecks and facilitated learning, not as a boss, but as a friend.  

After a few months, she made a proposal to her husband and daughter; then with their blessing, she quit her paid job and started being a steward and facilitator full time. There was huge growth in on-the-ground results and numbers of authorized leaders went through the roof. Some staff people began saying, “You should be sharing leaders with other sites!” Yes, maybe. But they’re volunteers. They won’t go somewhere else because someone tells them to.  

Al Steuter, famously effective manager of bison on TNC’s 56-thousand-acre Niobrara reserve, once explained his bison management strategy: “If you’re really good, you can get the bison to do anything that they want to do.” Yes. Profound. This principle works for people too. Temple Grandin is a famous horse-whisperer who also advised Nachusa on their bison restoration. She sees things from their perspectives and figures out how to make things work better for all. Eriko Koijma is a conservation people-whisperer. Everyone can make a difference. Some people, like Mary Laria and Eriko Kojima, may end up making especially big one.

As demonstrated by the story below, Eriko and the Somme Team built the capacity that then branched out vigorously to prairie after woodland after fen and beyond, as below. 

Story 9:  Illinois Beach 

 

I’d been working on the two Illinois Beach Nature Preserves since 1978, initially as a field rep for the Illinois Environmental Council (IEC). It was a job that I wanted very much and which paid $95 per week that, by agreement, I had to raise myself. We supported the young Illinois Nature Preserves System, that was gearing up for something big. A statewide search had identified 610 areas worthy of being in the system, which at that time had only 68 preserves. 

 

Rising to this key moment, a big grant from the Joyce Foundation allowed the Nature Preserves System (see Endnote INPS) to hire half a dozen of us as Field Reps. Our job was to negotiate with owners, add new sites to the system, and see to it that all preserves got maintained in good health. Jerry Paulson was our boss and mentor. We saved scores of sites, then hundreds, and upgraded their care. 

 

Illinois Beach had been the first Illinois Nature Preserve and to this day is among the tallgrass region's most important protectors of endangered species and communities (beach, dunes, prairies, savannas, and many wetland types). But threats remained. Invasive shrubs were still expanding and blotting out parts of those communities and species. Poisonous crown vetch was spreading and killing after being planted around a new parking lot. A large area of precious Grade A prairies and wetlands in Illinois Beach north was being targeted for a giant commercial marina – proposed by the State itself. Opposing that destruction was one objective I had worked on with IEC, especially happily, as this hallowed ground was already one of my favorite places on the planet. After a lot of back and forth, the marina was finally moved north and away from the natural prime areas. 

 

As Nature Preserves staff, it was our job to head off such threats. And indeed, we made progress on many. Part of our strategy was to facilitate and empower an expanded constituency of volunteer conservationists. The one DNR conservation staff person for northern Illinois was spread across tens of thousands of acres. He appreciated the help and initiative, but cautioned me about stepping on toes, and indeed I was hauled before the DNR Director to explain myself, which was clearly intended to intimidate. But friendly and positive advocacy, under the guidance of Nature Preserves director George Fell, seemed to be what the Nature Preserves needed. Fell was quiet but intense. Once at a staff meeting, as an icebreaker, we were all to name our favorite way of spending spare time. When Fell’s turn came, he said he was disappointed not to hear people say that what they liked to do most in their spare time was more work.

 

By 1983, uncompromising Fell and all of us had stepped on too many toes. Fell and the entire Nature Preserves staff were fired. Some bureaucrats may have thought that would be the end of an independent and dynamic Nature Preserves System. But thanks to good advocacy, the State hired a fine new director (Karen Witter), and the system moved ahead.

 

From 68 preserves in 1978, the system has grown to well over 600 preserves now. During those years, many unsupportive Illinois Governors went to prison (no connection, unfortunately). For 15 years, the Nature Conservancy employed me to organize and serve the Volunteer Stewardship Network – to care for preserves. When the Conservancy changed direction, for another 15 years, some of us worked under the Audubon banner to support stewards, promote on-the-ground biodiversity initiatives, to organize field seminars and the Wild Things conference, and whatever else seemed strategic. 

 

Then Audubon too moved in different directions. And some of us launched Friends of Illinois Nature Preserves. Perhaps our decades of working through national and international agencies with their own special (and changing) goals was the best we could do then. But now, for the first time, we would have an independent force specifically focused on nature preserves. Early on, the day-to-day organizers were Somme Woods zone stewards, including Matt Evans, Eriko Kojima, Christos Economou, Katie Kucera, Emma Leavens, and Rebeccah Hartz. We built new capacity, with good help from Nature Preserve staffers Kim Roman and John Nelson. In 2023 we were invited to work with Illinois DNR staff biologist Melissa Grycan to see what could be done for the incomparable Illinois Beach – where invasives were still spreading widely. Hundreds of volunteers at increasing numbers of sites accomplished what staff alone could not. 

A rich remnant ecosystem, molded by blowing sand, fire, and time.
Now dependent on protection from and by people. 

In 2023 Melissa and Friends field rep Jo Sabath launched a new stewardship community for Illinois Beach. Rising to the occasion, Sharon Rosenzweig, Belynda Alberte, Jerome McDonnell, Ashley Wold, Regina Witherell-Poe, Ted Boggess, Zoe Raines, and a long list of other great folks took the lead and held year-round weekly “workdays” and often worked on special projects ever since. Crown vetch is on the run. 

 

Melissa regularly thanks the Friends for the great work on invasives as well as doubling her capacity to conduct needed burns. Such work is occasionally shared on this blog. 

 

Along with global climate change, biodiversity loss is one of the most important challenges facing the planet. Public education and constituency are key. At many sites, an upcoming generation of conservationists is emerging. Many experienced stewards are inspired by their new energy, dedication, and rising competence. Decades of invasives, advancing until recently, are in rout at some sites! Tallgrass region biodiversity is getting more of the love that it deserves. 

 

Endnote

 

It takes a team and a village. Conservation staff folks at public and not-for-profit agencies are crucial. But learning the bewildering alphabet soup of acronyms can seem not worth the trouble for someone who just loves nature and wants to help. In fact, don’t hesitate to ignore, but if you want, this endnote will provide a brief guide to NLI, INPS, INPC, INAI, DOC, DNR, and a few others.

 

When this story began in 1978, the Illinois Department of Conservation (DOC) was a big agency with responsibilities for state parks and historic sites, conservation regulations, conservation police, and licenses for hunting, fishing, and trapping. It was only starting to focus on “natural areas.” The words “biodiversity conservation” were unknown; the concept of “biodiversity” wouldn‘t even be defined until 1985. There was contention between the wildlife staff (the “hook and bullet boys”) and some younger, newer staff who worked on “natural areas” or what we’d now call biodiversity conservation. 

 

Change was under way, thanks to Rachel Carson’s book Silent Spring (1962) and the “can do” spirit of “the sixties.” After years of advocacy, the Illinois Natural Areas Preservation Act in 1963 established the Illinois Nature Preserves Commission (INPC) to support the Illinois Nature Preserves System (INPS … although the Illinois Native Plant Society has that same acronym). The Nature Preserves System initially had little funding. So the founders, with leadership from George Fell, established the not-for-profit Natural Land Institute (NLI) to fundraise and build staff, independent of government control and limitations. 

 

The Illinois Natural Areas Inventory (finished in 1978) was the first such intensive inventory on the planet. The INAI was conducted by NLI for DOC to help the INPC decide priorities for the INPS. Later the name of the DOC was changed to Department of Natural Resources (DNR). Both INPC and DNR have staff and resources, but not nearly enough.

There are many other organizations that are key to the Illinois Nature Preserves System. About half the nature preserves are owned by forest preserve districts, park districts, townships, land trusts, and private individuals. Especially where people care and constituency exists, staff and contractors of the other owners havbe expertise and resources and do important work. Yet there's typically so much more care needed, and competent volunteers may make a life-or-death difference. 

For the previous three stories: click here.

Acknowledgements

Sharon Rosensweig deserves credit for helpful proofing and edits. 

Nine Stories. Part 2: Small Group. Mini-backlash. Rise and Fall.

Story 4. A Small Group

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.

Margaret Mead

 

Yet often the most significant people get little credit. At times they prefer it that way, as they can get more done by letting other people shoulder the recognition and burdens of leadership. But leaving out the accomplishments of the most significant people means that history is falsified.

 

When New York Times science reporter William Stevens wrote "Miracle Under the Oaks" - largely about the North Branch Prairie Project - I argued with him repeatedly, opposing his draft's too-narrow focus on me. He said he needed character drama to tell the story for a book that would sell. But his account failed to truly reflect what was happening. (And, indeed, it changed what was happening.)

Multiple committed, mostly young folks from all walks of life built the North Branch Prairie Project. They included Larry and Chris Hodak, Donna Hriljac, Robbie and Ross Sweeny, Pete Baldo, John and Jane Balaban, Laurel Ross, Susanne Masi, Miriam Desmond, and me, and more. We got the best expert advice we could, and soon we were eco-restoration trailblazers, solving new problems - becoming a model for something that would go coast to coast, and in various forms around the world.

In 1978, our work parties numbered from five to ten most weeks.
But sometimes, there were just two or three of us, or as many as thirty. 
We ate lunch together and felt good about our accomplishments and each other - every time. 

That first summer and fall, we collected rare seeds, and learned. Starting in December, we cut brush, conducted burns first with one staff leader, and gradually demonstrated enough competence that within a couple of years we were burning all our sites without needing staff help. All sites, that is, except two within the City of Chicago. Forest Preserve officials didn’t approve burns at Bunker Hill or Sauganash because, they reported, City officials refused permits. No burning would ever be allowed in Chicago, we were told. We continued cutting brush and sowing seed in those preserves, but it seemed hopeless without fire.

 

One day, John Balaban – who taught math at St. Ignatius College Prep – said to the group: “This may be stupid, but one of the Jesuits who teaches with me has a brother who’s a fire captain. Could he help?” We said, go John! and we had the burn permits in a week. This had been all too new for official channels. The permit referenced a street address rather than the Forest Preserve and came from the Department of Consumer Services. But it worked.  

 

That was one of our first lessons in the power of community. Those lessons kept coming.

In 1996, the group changed its name to the North Branch Restoration Project - as we worked to heal not only prairies but also savanna, woodlands, sedge meadows, and ponds. Annually, to prepare seeds for planting, volunteers have come together every fall, for 47 years and counting. 

Next lesson: At one preserve, there was a bad problem with purple loosestrife. This invasive had for decades destroyed hundreds of thousands of acres of animal and plant habitat in eastern states and at that time was increasingly assaulting the Midwest. We were assured by the Illinois Department of Natural Resources that Illinois and other states had appealed to the U.S. Department of Agriculture to import beetles from Europe that would control the loosestrife. But it didn't happen. As time dragged on, we asked if we could help push. “No!” we were told, repeatedly, "Let us do it!" Bureaucrats worry about losing control and about incompetent interference. But we kept checking with the person in charge, and after years of failure after failure, we were told, “Well, okay, see if you can help.”

 

We discussed it. Donna Hriljac happened to be politically active and the principal volunteer coordinator for the biennial re-election campaigns of Congressman Sid Yates, chair of the federal budget committee. Donna approached Yates, referenced the unified support of the region’s conservationists and scientists, and in a month, the program was funded. The imported beetles controlled loosestrife well in some areas, merely reduced it in others, but the power of initiative and advocacy was demonstrated once again.   

 

One day it became clear that our day-to-day brush-and-seeds leaders needed ongoing training. Susanne Masi organized a series of field classes that brought together the best on-the-ground experts, and we learned together. From that experience, she went on to organize a Plants of Concern program through the Chicago Botanic Garden. 

Some of us wrote newsletters or organized social events. Gail Schmoller wrote press releases and courted reporters. Our challenges and victories became regular front-page and TV news. 

  

Soon similar groups were forming around the region, with the help of staff from Nature Conservancy and many forest preserve and park districts. From Europe, South America, Australia, and Asia – people came to study us. Five decades later, some of us were still doing this great work. But to become culture, caring for nature needs renewal from generation to generation. You can see such generous energies in the Peregrines and the folks building the new Friends communities in 2025. 

In 2024, the Peregrines take a snack break before going back to saving the ecosystem.

Story 5. Hint of a Mini Backlash

 

Story number five is short and has no named characters. It’s about zeitgeist – the general spirit of the times – which we all have influence over. 

 

In the early days of the Prairie Project we often worked along a bike trail – in part so people could see what we were doing, could ask questions, could join in if they wanted. Curious people often asked, “What are you getting?” They usually didn’t stop, so we needed quick answers. We tried saying, “restoring nature” or “taking care of the prairie” which tended to be met by blank stares. Then we hit on, “Helping restore endangered species” which was true, if very partial. The Endangered Species Act was new and popular. Most people smiled and said, “oh wow” or “great!” or “amazing!”  

 

Years later, we still got that response from some people. But others frowned. A surprising number said in challenging tones, “What about jobs?!”

 

This made no sense, logically. But the spotted owl and snail darter had been big in the news – and the charge was that efforts to save these species were costing jobs in the lumber industry or dam building. Saving endangered species had become something negative to many people.

 

Most of us can’t take the time to “do our own research” on thousands of questions, so we depend on opinion leaders, experts, and friends. There's no alternative. Who's worth listening to is one of the most important questions we all face. For biodiversity conservation, we would be wise to take that fact seriously. If we're to be listened to, we need to avoid language that seems extremist or alienating. We seek language that communicates well and avoids political mine fields. While activists may need from time to time to take a bold stand for something unpopular, and work hard to win people over, that won't work if we do it too often.

Experience makes us think twice about Margaret Mead's famous quotation. A small group of thoughtful people can also fail, if huge forces are arrayed against them, and if they play their cards wrong. The new insights introduced by such a small group must be wise and practical - and become the overall consensus, if those big or little revolutions are to take hold, become culture, and ultimately influence most people's behavior.  

Story 6. The Rise and Fall of Painful Times

 

We were on a roll. By the mid-nineties, the words restoration, prairie, and savanna were common for the first time. Thanks to Rachel Carson, Aldo Leopold, and others (including us, in the Chicago area), the concepts were being taught in school classrooms.  “Prairie” and “Savanna” started appearing in the names of subdivisions, companies, streets, and products. Kids were being named Savanna, River, Meadow and such – they’re beautiful names. Hundreds of local restoration groups prospered, many of them attracting scores or hundreds of participants annually. At some just a few people did all the work, but they multiplied their efforts by becoming respected and building local “patriotism” for local nature, for decades. 

 

But as it turned out, we’d pushed too far, too fast. Stewards gained power to influence political decisions and came into conflict with other influential groups. A minority of mountain bikers and horseback riders had become accustomed to riding off trail in ways that destroyed rare vegetation and sometimes started major erosion gullies on slopes. Some companies and homeowners wanted no one to notice that they were using preserve land for other purposes. Stewards spoke out and made enemies. 

 

The most influential were groups who opposed deer culling. For years they’d had popular sentiment on their sides and won battle after battle. Ecosystems began degrading, and people were increasingly being injured by deer-auto crashes. Forest preserve officials asked the stewards to come to the defense of culling. Our side then started to win these battles. But the “animal rights” groups relished the fight and were much more media experienced. Indeed, we had prided ourselves on staying out of controversy as much as possible.

 

Friendly reporters started warning us that an impressive campaign was building. Frequent press releases were arriving. These releases claimed that the stewards and staff were killiing trees, setting forest fires, destroying bird habitat, using dangerous herbicides. They left the deer question in the background. 

 

On May 12, 1996, a massive Sun-Times headline read “HALF MILLION TREES FACE AX – DuPage Clearing Forests To Revive Prairies.” Next came dozens of similar anti-restoration articles, week after week, full of misinformation, but editors had taken the story away from science reporters and brought in political ones. Soon DuPage and Cook County Forest Preserves declared a moratorium on restoration, and Lake County headed that way. Stewards were not allowed to burn, cut, pull weeds, or even pick up trash. Their sites suffered, and so did they. 

 

Contentious hearings produced yelling and threats. Peace was gradually made with the mountain bikers, horse folks, and birders. But the press campaign continued, now fueled mostly by two groups – the original deer control protesters and influential residents of two wealthy Chicago forest-preserve-adjacent neighborhoods who made it clear that their real beef was outsiders – especially African-American and Latino kids in the woods across the street from their houses. Protestors carried signs about cutting trees and fire, but people with mean voices yelled “We don’t want you in this neighborhood - you and the darkies you bring with you.” No reporter was willing to mention that aspect. It wrecked their narrative. 

 

After four years of this, doing our best, making some gains, in 2001 we started a new advocacy and media strategy. We created Friends of the Forest Preserves, signed up influential support organizations, and enlisted eighty botanists to conduct a scientific sampling of the 50,000 acres of Cook County Forest Preserves that were supposed to be in their natural state. In 2002 we held a press conference outside the office of the County Board president. We criticized poor maintenance of picnic areas and many other failures. But the key failing, well documented through the scientific sampling by those eighty volunteers, was that 68% of the preserves were in poor ecological health. That launched a new series of headlines, supporting our concerns this time. (The news folks like new news.) Those opponents seemed to have nothing new to say. The President fired the General Superintendent and hired a new one, Steve Bylina, who seems to have told his staff, “Make Peace with These Stewards!!” For years we met and planned the Forest Preserve policy and budget jointly with him. For restoration and conservation, he did a good job. 

 

After the Moratorium had finally ended, new President Preckwinkle (left) and new Superintendent Arnold Randall (right) posed with some of the North Branch leaders after presenting an award to the group. Volunteers, from left to right: Jane Balaban, Jonathan Sladek, Laurel Ross, Marianne Kozlowski, Stephen Packard, Linda Masters, Larry Hodak, Jerry Fuller, and Kent Fuller. For this business-hours event, most of the younger leaders were at work. 

The Moratorium had been lifted piece by piece over ten years. It had been a frustrating experience for many. Yes, a small group can change the world, but not if it stays small.  

One final photo, from yesterday, as a reminder of the biodiversity that our new culture works to save. This former corn field at Somme Prairie Grove was restored with seed from very small remnants nearby. After 45 years of faithful stewardship, imperfect in many ways, the species most easily seen flowering in this photo include cream false indigo, shooting star, wood betony, and golden Alexanders. Singing while the photo was taken were an orchard oriole, a yellow-throat, and two kingbirds. Animal and plant species on the federal Endangered Species list thrive here. This revived health and richness inspire us. 

End of Part Two

For the last three stories, click here. 

Acknowledgements

For proofing and edits, thanks to Eriko Kojima, Sharon Rosenzweig, Kelvin Liu, and Rebeccah Hartz. 

Nine Stories of Moral Ambition - Part 1

Intro: Saving the world can be fun and a worthy mission, if we work on it together. 

Second Intro: These three stories are Part 1 of a promised written version of the "Nine Stories" talk Stephen Packard gave at “Wild Things – a Conference of People and Nature” in March 2025. This post's title reflects a recent interesting book and web initiative on “Moral Ambition” by Rutger Bregman. It seemed apt, if his concept could be broadened to fit the likes of us. See Endnote.

Teaser: this beautiful and endangered plant will rise out of the brush in Story three. 

Story one: Doug and Dot Wade seem to Fail, but later Succeed

One fine day in 1987, we walked across a vast but degraded prairie, attempting to found the support group that would ultimately save what we now call Nachusa Grasslands. On that walk one of our mentors, Doug Wade, told a few of us younger conservationists about his secret for fundraising. It required taking a heavy frying pan on a prairie hike with a rich donor. You explain to him how to tell a fox den from a coyote den. You show him how to stick your head in the hole. Fox dens smell musky. Coyote dens smell unmistakably like dog. It’s a familiar smell, surprising in that context.

 

Okay:  When the donor’s head is in the hole, you take that frying pan and give him a good clout in the butt, so his head gets stuck, and you offer to pull him back out … in exchange for big money. 

 

It was a bad joke. Kind of stupid and perplexing at the time. Perhaps it reflected the fact that so many of Doug’s good and visionary ideas didn’t get funded. The Wades had been students of and close friends with the conservation prophet, Aldo Leopold, and they felt urgency to provide the next generation of leadership.

Shortly after Leopold died in 1948, Doug was hired by Dartmouth College but was not happy there. After other false startes, he came home to the tallgrass and taught field biology at Northern Illinois University, out in farm country. People respected Doug and deeply admired his wife Dot — for her warmth and ability to help high-strung academics and environmentalists to get along with each other. Dot established a business raising and selling prairie plants – the first of its kind, at a time when few had ever heard about them, or cared. She once said to me, “I couldn’t imagine who’d ever buy one; I thought you’d need to be a very intellectual person, probably from Chicago.”

 

In later years, I tried to visit Dot every time I was out that way, because I liked her. I did not think of her as a potential donor, even though, as Nature Conservancy staff, I was supposed to be on the lookout for such. On one visit, she told me that another organization was visiting her more often than I was. I gave her a funny look, and said, “It sounds like that organization is buttering you up.”

 

Dot’s face broadened into an enormous smile, and she said: “I love to be buttered up!” It turned out that she’d inherited stock in an ice cream company her dad had started in New Jersey. She soon donated $56,000 dollars to Nachusa.  

 

Doug and Dot Wade launched what we now call Wild Things. 

But back in 1975, the Wades had a powerful idea that didn’t need funding.  The word “biodiversity” did not yet exist. But a few academics had been pointing out that tiny, shrinking prairie remnants were all that remained of the fabled rich grasslands of The Prairie State. The first North American Prairie Conference had been organized by Professor Pete Schram at nearby Knox College in 1968. Starting then, every two years those scientists would come together and share what they were learning – speaking scientific Latin — on weekdays. The Wades thought “Maybe enough people are starting to care that we could organize a little conference where a wider range people, including volunteers, could come together to learn and strategize on prairie conservation.” Would people show up? Doug convinced his university to sponsor it, on the condition that attendees paid for their lunches. When an amazing 150 people had signed up, the university told him that was as many lunches as the facility could handle. He should close registration. Wade sent out the notice, “Registration is still open, but from now on, bring your own lunch!” 

 

That conference has been held every second year since, and this year was its 50^th anniversary. Now it’s called Wild Things (they make our hearts sing). It kept going because volunteers did the work - in part because they respected Doug and Dot. In 2025, it drew 2,600 people. (The North American Prairie Conference also continues, attracting hundreds.) 

 

In 2025, Wild Things included more than 140 presentations and workshops that sought to be enjoyable and meaningful to every kind of person. Ultimately, for this planet to thrive in good health, most people need to understand and care. Doug and Dot helped empower many of us with moral ambition.  

Story two: She Built Bridges for Bird Conservation. 

 

Judy Pollock is a birder and activist. She and her husband Scott connected to environmental work on a delegation to Guatemala with local activists. But on her return to Chicago, she found herself with little free time – aside from her job as a teacher and raising two young kids. Yet, still wanting to contribute to conservation, she came across an invitation to help monitor birds in restoration areas and advise stewards on that part of the challenge.

 

North Branch Prairie Project stewards, supported by The Nature Conservancy, were cutting brush to rescue often-nearly-gone prairie remnants, an acre here, twenty acres there. At the ten-acre Miami Woods Prairie (a Cook County Forest Preserve, then of fair quality, at best) she found breeding indigo buntings, willow flycatchers, yellowthroats, and others. As the shrubs vanished, those birds dwindled. The steward told her that was okay, on the theory they’d be replaced by higher-conservation-priority prairie birds. Judy explained that no prairie bird would ever breed on a ten-acre prairie; it’s too small. So why wreck the habitat of the shrubland birds (also declining) that did breed there? The steward wasn’t convinced. In a few years, all the brush and most of the birds were gone; Judy felt like she’d wasted her time. She occasionally recommended that the restoration folks reconsider their approach to birds. No one seemed to listen.

Sonia, Scott the younger, Scott the dad, and Judy Pollock check out the ecosystem. 

In early 1996, Judy talked with other birders, and they organized a conference – with birders and restoration folks picking the speakers together. In that context, birders and stewards could get together with equal standing, present their cases, and work stuff out. It succeeded – leading to the formation of the Bird Conservation Network, a new, focused, powerful constituency that pursued a number of new and larger bird conservation efforts.

 

Later, when Judy and others heard that an O’Hare airport expansion plan would damage a small, degraded marsh that was of value to migratory shorebirds, they spoke up, making some Chicago city officials nervous that environmentalist objections could stall the project. Criticism can be just negative, but successful advocacy needs ultimately to be constructive. In this case, a compatible solution was proposed by Openlands, and in response O’Hare contributed an impressive 26 million dollars to a fund for restoring health to thousands of acres of bird habitat – especially wetlands, prairies, and shrublands. Over the years, such work became Judy’s profession. 

 

Over the years Judy played a major role in reviving the Wild Things conference and promoting local prairie bird, shrubland bird, and all bird habitat – especially at the Bartel Grassland, Orland Grassland, and the Spring Creek Preserves. 

 

Judy and others also worked successfully with Mayor Daley to have Chicago’s tall building lights dimmed during migration, saving the lives of thousands of tired migrating birds, which had been attracted to and then crashing into those buildings for decades. A big success. 

 

Initiative, advocacy, and restoration: You go, Judy!

 

Endnote to Story two: Backstory on the $26M

 

Much biodiversity depends on thriving natural ecosystems. During the 1980s and 90s, an awareness of this fact was increasing (locally and nationally), thanks in part to media and volunteer stewardship initiatives in the Chicago region. A key contributor in the growing conservation community was Jean Sellar, a creative and dedicated biologist in the Chicago office of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. When word reached her that Material Services Corporation apparently illegally destroyed a natural prairie and wetland in its ownership, the Corps approached them about mitigation. To avoid a lawsuit, Material Services agreed on donating $7M to a restoration fund administered by Openlands. This precedent had a national impact in efforts to focus Army Corps resources on returning disrupted hydrology to its original form when practical, rather than channelizing and damming etc. To collaborate strategically with natural ecosystem processes can sometimes produce better solutions than those depending on concrete and steel. 

 

When the City of Chicago sought a mitigation to facilitate the expansion of the O’Hare Airport, they followed that example. One day in its pile of mail, Openlands fished out a regular business envelope containing a check for $26,000,000. Thus began massive benefits for many worthy sites. It reflected the work of a great many people who made conservation needs understandable and urgent in the public mind. 

 

Story three: Childhood Memories Cause Good Trouble 

 

The heroine of this story is Barbara Turner. She donated a rare, high-quality oak woodland as a Nature Preserve and protected it as a steward, pulling garlic mustard and cutting buckthorn. I came into this story when I was hired by the Nature Preserves Commission to help watch over such sites. I asked Barbara to show me some of the rare, interesting wildflowers that were the site’s treasures. She took me from place to place, saying, “They used to be here. I’m sure they were here.” Troubled, she finally said, “Well I hoped not to have to do this. I know we're not supposed to, but I mow a small area of the preserve as a classroom when school children come to visit.” She took me there, and we saw the sought-after plants, including the Endangered wood pea. But we had to face the fact that something was wrong.

 

Others at this time were also starting to realize that the oak woodlands needed fire to maintain their biodiversity, so we sent a letter to the Commission requesting approval for experimental burning of Nature Preserve oak woodlands – which had never been done up till then. 

 

At the next meeting of the Commission, there was a buzz in the air as people had come to witness expected controversy. But when the agenda reached that item, the chair sternly decreed that no approval could be considered except in the context of a specific proposal from a preserve landowner that included a carefully designed study. (Days later he stormed into my office and angrily told me that he wanted to hear no more on this subject!!!) But as soon as the Commission meeting ended, Barbara approached me and offered her woods for the experiment. Botanist Jerry Wilhelm came over and offered to do the study – for free. 

 

The Commission turned down our request. But, as is so often true, the “defeat” was just face-saving and foot-dragging. The Commission soon came up with $20,000 to study burning at four savanna/woodland sites: Reed-turner Woodland, Somme Prairie Grove, Wadsworth Savanna, and Middlefork Savanna. All these oak ecosystem complexes began to receive regular burns, and the data showed that the burns worked. Biodiversity perked up. But damage had been done. At Reed-Turner Woodland, some species were gone and others recovered very slowly.  

 

In the meantime Barbara kept thinking about what seemed to have been happening. She'd been an enthusiastic student and friend of conservationist May Thielgaard Watts, who'd visited the site. Barbara searched her memory and old photos and reported the unsettling realization that her precious woodland had been, decades earlier, much richer and more beautiful. She then proposed another experiment. “What do you think?” she asked. “The so-called lawn around our house is really just the woods, mowed occasionally for many years. What if we stopped mowing and started burning?” At her insistence, we burned right up to the foundation. After two years, her former lawn bloomed with the endangered wood pea as well as violet bush clover, an open woodland species never before reported in Lake County. It turned out that occasional mowing had done less damage to the ecosystem than “letting nature take its course.” 

 

After a review of these experiments, the Commission began standard approvals for controlled burns in oak savannas and woodlands - thanks in large part to the vision and courage of Barbara Turner.

 For the next three stories: click here. 

Endnote

Rutger Bregman started "The School For Moral Ambition" with a mostly inspiring vision. Many of the people in these stories seem to embody what he writes about. Unfortunately, in some interviews Bregman focuses a bit much on elites. He argues that, with cultural change, some of "the smartest people in the room" will find riches ultimately tedious and unfulfilling and direct their talents toward what's good and right. Consumerism and "pride of wealth and privilege" would be superseded by lives of less affluence and more happiness and satisfaction. Yes, fine, that would be good for the rich and powerful. But perhaps this thinking could apply in varied ways to the majority of the Earth's people, who want better lives and a better world.  

Acknowledgements 

Christos Economou, Eriko Kojima, Stone Hansard, and Jane Jordan provided helpful proofing and edits.