The Landscape Of Any Farm Is The

No Matter How Intently One Studies The Hundred Little Dramas Of The Woods And Meadows, One Can Never Learn All The Salient Facts About Any One Of Them.

The Landscape Of Any Farm Is The Owner's Portrait Of Himself.

Conservationists Have, I Fear, Adopted The Pedagogical Method Of The Prophets: We Mutter Darkly About Impending Doom If People Don't Mend Their Ways. The Doom Is Impending, All Right; No One Can Be An Ecologist, Even An Amateur One, Without Seeing It. But Do People Mend Their Ways For Fear Of Calamity? I Doubt It. They Are More Likely To Do It Out Of Pure Curiosity And Interest.

Tell Me Of What Plant-birthday A Man Takes Notice, And I Shall Tell You A Good Deal About His Vocation, His Hobbies, His Hay Fever, And The General Level Of His Ecological Education.

There Is, As Yet, No Sense Of Pride In The Husbandry Of Wild Plants And Animals, No Sense Of Shame In The Proprietorship Of A Sick Landscape. We Tilt Windmills In Behalf Of Conservation In Convention Halls And Editorial Offices, But On The Back Forty We Disclaim Even Owning A Lance.