All that space

"We're in space, and space is infinite. Yet here we are on earth, in the middle all of that space."

My 88-year-old friend shares this bit of wisdom with me before he retires to his bunk. We are in the cabin he built in the middle of the Santa Lucia Mountains, his homestead a sphere of life in the middle of spatial wilderness. Sitting by the fire, I reflect on our discussion, life in the middle of all that space . . .

This concept takes me back to my thoughts earlier when I was watching the sunrise. In morning's wakeful stupor I was most conscious of the light and how it played on land around me. I looked at the trees, at the rocks, at the hillsides.

The morning seemed quiet, not animated. I cast my gaze down on the ground and looked at the soil. It held an intricate pattern of pine needles, dirt and small bits of pinecone and sand, seemingly inert as the morning. It was not until I began to look at the spaces in between the soil fragments that I saw life.

Life in the spaces

Looking between the needles I saw an insect larva just beginning to wiggle. On another scrap of debris an insect was crawling. Between the spaces of the pinecone, a minuscule seedling was coming up. It was then I remembered an elder telling me, if you want to see life, look at the spaces in between.

So often we approach our day with an expectation of seeing what we want. We go into the wilderness wanting to see a deer, so we look for a deer. Rarely do our expectations manifest. We miss the deer in hiding, although we know they must be there.

Is it because we have looked at things rather than in the spaces where they are camouflaged? We look at the tree they browse upon rather than the tree's shadow they blend in with. We look at rocks on the cliff face rather than the dark crevices and spaces where the owl is concealed in plain view.

More and more when in the wilderness, I soften my vision to view the landscape instead of looking directly at it. This technique allows me to see the gaps and openings through which the animals are moving. Viewing the terrain in this manner allows me to see wildlife corridors.

Fragmented populations

Wildlife corridors are strips of land connecting wildlife populations that have become fragmented by human activity. Prior to mass development, animal populations were connected by large spaces of sustainable habitat.

As human population grows- and with it agriculture, industry and urbanization- these habitats become increasingly isolated from one another.

Habitat fragmentation can be caused by natural geologic events such as earthquakes, landslides and volcanic activity. But increasingly fragmentation is the result of human activities, such as housing developments, strip malls, roadways and fencing.

Although much land is being conserved by federal and private organizations, ecologists, biologists and animal behavioralists are beginning to better understand the dire necessity of wildlife corridors.

As wildlife habitats are separated, the members of one species are unable to socialize with the same species in different populations. Depending on the size of the habitat fragment and, therefore, the number of individuals in a given species, genetic diversity is often negated. This lack of diversity leads to reduced fitness in the population and can result in the extinction of that species in that habitat.

Living on the edge

Another detriment resulting from fragmentation is the edge effect. The "edge" refers to the boundary between natural habitat and development.

Although demarcated as a wildlife area by signs, fences and written law, these edges are often unsuited to sustaining a healthy ecosystem. Species living on the edge are susceptible to noise, air, water and soil pollution spilling over from developed areas.

The edge areas often have different air temperatures, less soil moisture and more light exposure, therefore depleting its resources. It is not until one walks away from the edge, penetrating the center of the fragment, that the true ecosystem can be seen flourishing.

Small habitat fragments will often contain an edge effect throughout the entire habitat, not being large enough to escape the disturbance of the developed systems surrounding it.

The more we understand the effects of fragmentation on healthy ecosystems, the greater our understanding of the necessity for wildlife corridors. These corridors allow animals trapped in small isolated habitats to travel to ecosystems that are less impacted by edge effects. In addition, these animal highways also allow essential transfer of genetic material, ensuring biodiversity and fitness.

Increasingly, conservationists have stopped looking at the fragments and are now looking to the spaces in between, for it is the space in between where life flows.