The Wilderness Within
Introduction
Fences paralleled the highway as we dashed through the desert. The afternoon sun warmed the wind and lit up the wide open spaces of Southern Namibia. As I looked out the window at the passing pastures, I couldn’t help but think of home. The isolated highway reminded me of the Sandhills, a stunning grassland landscape making up much of north and central Nebraska. I was transported back in time, to a childhood filled with road trips to my grandparents’ house in the heart of this region, through the rolling green hills, home to bald eagles, pronghorn and an array of other species. Yet today I continued my journey halfway around the world, through the Namib desert, where herds of oryx stood tall on the horizon and springbok sprinted away from our noisy bus; their movements exactly like those of the pronghorn of the prairie.
Without air conditioning, the sun brought the bus’s interior to a boil as we started into the afternoon. My head bounced against the window with a rhythmic thud as we sped over the ruts in the road, rattling the frame of our oversized safari bus. Like many car rides in my life, I began to daydream, hypnotized by the repetition of fence posts and the occasional tree. Now, instead of angus cattle and lush pasture land, the horizon held antelope and a sandy red soil. On the surface, the deserts of Namibia were a stark contrast to my home state of Nebraska, yet there seemed to be an underlying link. One that connected people and the landscape, a wilderness that could be found no matter where one roamed.
Oryx (Oryx Gazella) stand on the open landscape where the Tiras Mountains meet the Namib Desert. These animals are well adapted to a rugged life in harsh conditions often facing drought, extreme heat, and variable amounts of food and water.
Alongside the sandy pasture landscapes of Namibia, where herds of cattle and small stock graze, lies a collection of nature and biosphere reserves. These spaces attract an array of tourists hoping to learn about these ecosystems and observe the world-class wildlife of southern Africa. Ecotourism businesses cater to a multitude of accommodations and interests. A guest can spend a night in a tent and fill their day with an educational nature walk, or splurge on a luxury lodge and view wildlife from the back of a land cruiser. These experiences are vastly different; yet they are all connected by the wilderness that keeps guests coming back for more.
As an ecotourist, I feel out of place. Our guides know this landscape like the back of their hands – it is where they were born, where they grew up.
“It is life” says Okwa Sarefo, a lifelong guide in Southern Africa.
The conservation of these wild places is not easy, and the active stewardship by people of all backgrounds keeps them alive and wild. Meeting others with such a passion for the outdoors prompted me to consider what business there was for ecotourism in my home state of Nebraska. As I lived with ranchers, educators, and guides abroad, I started to wonder what lessons we could learn from these people so in tune with the totality of our landscape. What experiences and opinions were shared between the ranchers and teachers I have known since a child, and how were they different? Did 8,000 miles of distance make that much of a difference?
Taken on my first day at Farm Namtib, the farm’s sign and fence posts interrupt an otherwise desolate landscape. Though otherworldly at times, the vast landscapes reminded me of the high plains of western Nebraska.
Farm Namtib
My second day in Namibia sent me jostling down a red dirt road at dusk, golden light illuminating the skyline around me. Nothing distinguished the road from the surrounding landscape except for tire tracks left by previous visitors.. Looking west, dunes rolled into the distance, fading into the sunset. On my right, looking east, mountains rose straight into the evening air. They filled the windows of the bus, their dark faces jagged and uninviting. Emerging abruptly from the surrounding sands, they seemed almost a disturbance in the desert. It was one of the most dramatic landscapes I had ever witnessed– the warm colors filled my soul and set a smile across my face. Dust trailed our bus as we passed through miles of pasture, bouncing over rocks and ruts, as we headed to our first destination.
Oryx, large antelope with long spear-like horns, galloped through the sand as we approached our new home: a row of yellow bungalows perched on the valley floor, surrounded on three sides by the towering mountains. In the shade of these peaks grew skinny trees still holding onto their leaves. Clumps of grass clung to the sand as the driveway was now lined by fences and the occasional water trough. The quiet evening was interrupted by the booming barks of a large dog. He galloped alongside our bus, sounding the alarm for anyone who would listen. His white coat was stained brown with sand, and his large paws sent soil flying as he trailed our bus to the end of the driveway. We offloaded our bags, each packed for a month’s worth of travel, surrounded by the yellow houses with green metal roofs.
Farm Namtib, a farm and biosphere reserve, was our first stop on the itinerary. Our hosts, Thorsten Thiele and his wife Lynn, met us in the driveway. Thorsten wore flip flops and greeted us with a smile, his tan skin and relaxed posture reminded me of the ranchers I knew in Nebraska. After learning our names, he accompanied us to our accommodations, a one-room bungalow with a detached shower house and toilet. As I opened the wooden door connecting our bedroom to the breezeway, a blanket of stars made the night sky shine. With my body pressed to the stucco wall of my bungalow, I took in breath after breath, trying to absorb the dark expanse on display overhead. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, more stars began to appear, one by one, like pinholes in the velvety heavens above.
Constellations start to form as night falls over Farm Namtib, yellow bungalows can be seen on the valley floor. With little to no light pollution, the stars in the Namib Desert are some of the most visible in the world.
A home-cooked meal around the Thieles’ massive wooden table was next. The cuisine was accompanied by an array of questions from both parties, American and Namibian perspectives mixed their way into the flavors of this new food. Bites of oryx and squash were the backdrop to our conversation as Thorsten explained the history of the farm and the ways sustainable practices have contributed to their success.
“For me it’s just a sensible way of life if you live out here. I always say your biggest educational master here is nature itself,” Thorsten explained. “So if you keep an open mind you will realize that you can adapt accordingly if you so wish.”
Thorsten Thiele sits amongst his herd of cattle. Nguni cattle are a breed of well tempered bovine adapted to life in Southern Africa. They can handle extreme temperatures, diverse pasture quality, and are often regarded as extremely hardy livestock.
Though Thorsten is an engineer by trade and has no agricultural or conservation background, he credits his knowledge to a life living on the farm. “It’s just the way I was brought up,” he says. Thorsten explained to me that there are many ways to make a living off the land in Namibia. A solely agricultural route is an option, as well as a completely untouched nature reserve. He lies somewhere in the middle. He believes it is important to produce food while also living with the landscape, and he couldn’t help but remind me, “It doesn’t matter what degree you have hanging on the wall if it doesn’t rain for five years.”
The average rainfall in Namibia sits around 250 mm (9.8 inches) per year, yet in south-western Namibia, where Farm Namtib is located, averages can drop as low as 50 mm (2 inches) annually. With many diminishing resources as a result of drought, the body condition of wild ungulates on Thorsten’s properties have started to decrease. With the threat of prolonged drought in a changing landscape, he says that they have had to make changes to livestock management, moving from small stock, like sheep and goats, to a herd of Nguni cattle. The Nguni breed is native to southern Africa and can live on the landscape more effectively than other domestic bovines.
“We will be forced to reduce game numbers as well. Wherever you look, you will see oryx, and there’s quite a lot. At the moment it is not sustainable for the amount of grazing we have available,” Thorsten told me as we drove through the pastures of Farm Namtib.
Thorsten will harvest a portion of these game animals and sell their meat for profit, or keep some for his family’s consumption. Nearly every meal I shared with the Theiles contained oryx in some fashion, made in goulash or dried and served with hors d’oeuvres. The knowledge that these animals were harvested using effective conservation practices, and then used to feed guests, excited me. Exploring the landscape, eating food harvested from the area, and speaking with people who lived with the land, helped me form a deeper connection as an ecotourist.
Thorsten stands with a group of students from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln (UNL) in one of his pastures. These Natural Resources students from UNL will spend a month traveling through Namibia to learn about ecotourism, biology, and the natural resources in Southern Africa.
I learned a lot from my time with the Thieles. They helped me understand how ecotourism and agriculture could coexist. They taught me how profit can be made from the land in multiple ways, and how to adapt to make working with the land a long and sustainable lifestyle. My time at Farm Namtib made me wonder how the farmers I knew at home could work with the land, what changes we could make to lessen our impact, and how to increase our collaboration with the world around us. The knowledge I gained underneath those towering mountain walls has been ingrained somewhere deep in my soul, and will be integral to my perspectives moving forward.
NaDEET Centre
As our bus left the valley, it bounced over the same rutted roads we had entered on. Once again, the oryx stood tall, and the springbok dashed in the distance, yet the landscape seemed familiar now. I had spent hours listening, learning, and experiencing the world around me through my perspective and that of my hosts as well. The sun rose high in the safari sky as we jostled down yet another dirt road. The sparse grasses and trees of Farm Namtib now disappeared as the soil turned to a deeper sand. Fences here were unmaintained and some land was not fenced at all. The Tiras mountains forced their way into the sky, providing structure in this isolated landscape. Only one petrol station interrupted our travels. Green grass grew around its general store, a stark contrast to the dusty red soil in every direction. Inside, shelves of preserves and 40-pound bags of flour and maize meal lined the walls, a reminder of just how remote this area was.
The sun rises over the Namib Desert. Towering Tiras mountains rise in the background.
A Namaqua chameleon walks through the desert sand outside of the NaDEET Centre. Students at the Centre often engage in nature walks to learn about the surrounding environment and the organisms that inhabit it.
Soon after, our bus slowed to a stop at our second destination– we had arrived at what many would consider the middle of nowhere. A fenceline led us to a gate, and planted 50 yards in the distance, a sign proudly declared “NamibRand Nature Reserve” and in smaller letters “International Dark Sky Reserve NaDEET Centre.” On all sides were dunes, giant clumps of red sand, dumped upon the earth. Looking back east, the mountain range guided our way. Over one dune, a buggy leaped, its driver donning a sun hat and a face covering. When this stranger arrived, she removed her mask, revealing a wide smile under the brim of her large hat. We would come to know her as Elizabeth, one of the instructors here at the NaDEET center. In the tracks of the dune buggy rolled an old 4×4 pickup. We were instructed to load our bags into the back, and it soon disappeared back through the dunes. We then started walking towards the sound of the old pickup disappearing in the distance. We climbed up and down dunes until we were completely surrounded. The sand slipped from beneath me and soon my boots were filled with a few extra pounds of this red soil. The walk was hot, and the sun started to burn as we toiled up and over yet another dune. We laughed about our struggle as our group started to slowly separate, those committed to staying in front fought through the sand, trying to keep up with our new guide. I now doubted what our experience would be like, lost in the dunes, fighting for each step. I was covered in sweat and the sand clung to my skin, painting parts of my body in a dark red. I started to doubt anything could survive here, the only other organisms I had found on this short trek were the black tok-tokkie beetles that scurried through the sand, leaving little patterned tracks in the otherwise uniform environment..
After a few more dunes we arrived at what can only be described as a desert oasis. Though there was no water, a circle of cabins sat amongst the sand, a beacon of life within this vast landscape. Nestled in between the wind-warped dunes, their green metal roofs shimmered in the sun, providing a small section of shade in front of each building. Sitting in the shade of one of these cabins was the truck and buggy that had greeted us upon arrival.
Elizabeth Namulo, an educator at NaDEET Centre gives instructions to students after our arrival to the Centre. Behind her in the dunes are bunkhouses and bathrooms for guests.
The Namib Desert Environmental Education Trust (NaDEET) Centre, located in the Namib Desert in Southwestern Namibia, is a hands-on education facility in which participants learn about sustainability. The cabins, meant to house a mass of school children, are equipped with bunk beds with a designated outhouse and detached shower facility. The metrics of the energy and water consumption of each cabin are recorded and monitored to help students understand their impact.
Elizabeth (left) and JJ (right), both employees at the NaDEET Centre, stand in the various greenhouses at the station. With such a remote location, all food consumed at the Centre is grown here. Concerns about water ensure that this growth is extremely efficient.
In such a remote environment, water is an extremely expensive resource. Concerns of overconsumption have arisen in recent years. Even with water present, making this precious resource last longer and cost less is the goal of NaDEET. The university group got to experience the same programming that many primary school students go through when they come to the Centre from across the country of Namibia. Our water usage to shower, wash hands or clean clothes was audited every two days. The solar electricity that the Centre relies on was monitored as well. We cooked our meals in solar ovens, large totes lined with reflective materials to harness the sun’s energy and heat food placed inside. Food was placed in the ovens on a large wooden deck and its direction was changed throughout the cooking process to follow the sun, maximizing its heating potential. When the sun wasn’t available, we used “fireballs,” a conglomerate of recycled cardboard and paper packaging that was broken down, mixed with water, and baked in the sun to create a more efficient fuel source. Everything at NaDeet focused on efficiency. Waste was minimal and the creative methods to save water, harness renewable energy, and prevent pollution were implemented everywhere.
During my time at NaDEET I spoke with Christa D’alton, the relief manager at the Centre. We talked about the educational practices in place and this curriculum’s importance in everyday life.
“Our aim is to teach people how to live sustainably and know what small changes they can make in their lifestyles to achieve that. We are trying to teach people to address the environmental crisis here in Namibia and around the world,” she said. “It is important for people, especially young people, to know that we as humans are the problem, but we are more than capable of being the solution to that problem as well.”
Christa emphasized that though the Centre was located in a harsh environment and many of their practices could seem extreme to many people, like living entirely off solar energy for example, the solution to the environmental problem starts with simple tasks.
“You don’t need to be David Attenborough, for instance, but by doing small things in your home– just switching off a light in a room where you are not, makes a huge difference. You may think, ‘it’s just me switching off a light, what can that do?’ But in the end, if there are a million people switching off a light in their homes, it makes quite a difference.”
Christa D’Alton watches a chameleon traverse the landscape during an educational walk with students. The NaDEET Centre not only allows students to learn sustainable practices, but places them near the organisms that will directly benefit from the application of their knowledge.
During my time at NaDEET I was exposed to many things, beautiful rolling dunes, scenic starry nights and a wide array of organisms all living upon the landscape. Alongside this, I received a world-class education. The experience of living solely on solar energy, cooking my meals with the power of the sun, showering with minimal water, and doing everything in our power to reduce waste immersed me in the mission of NaDEET. I realized this lifestyle was not only possible but in many ways more practical than expected. A few simple sacrifices can ensure a sustainable future for generations to come. I am grateful for the education I received during my time at NaDEET and hope that their mission continues to shape the minds of students and tourists as they fight for the future of our environment.
Cheetah Conservation Fund
Some 300 miles north of NaDeet, acacia trees swarmed the pastures, and herds of goats stood on their hind legs, searching for leftover leaves. Their bodies were engulfed by the branches as they picked through thorns and plucked greenery with nimble lips and mashed them with the nonstop motion of their mouths. Though it was a stark contrast to the desert, northwest Namibia didn’t always look like this. The removal of large herbivores from the landscape and improper management by farmers has allowed serious bush encroachment to occur, a problem faced not just in Namibia, but Nebraska as well. Here in Namibia what once was wide plains with the occasional tree, is now a shaded region, choked out by young shrubs all vying for a place in the sunlight.
Many animals have attempted to adapt to this change and continue to live on the landscape, including cheetahs. Cheetahs and other predators have faced extremely serious population declines because of habitat fragmentation, a lack of genetic diversity and human-wildlife conflict. To combat these problems, the Cheetah Conservation Fund (CCF) was established in 1990. Since then, a multitude of programs and sites have been created to help predators, especially cheetahs, reestablish throughout Africa.
The South African cheetah (Acinonyx jubatus jubatus), the smallest of the big cats found in Africa, is listed as vulnerable on the IUCN Red List. With threats from habitat fragmentation, human-wildlife conflict, and a limited gene pool, the future of this species is uncertain.
I arrived at CCF on a sunny afternoon. The day was calm, yet the safari bus still jostled down the road, its lurches and leaps I had grown accustomed to over the past two weeks. Its tan exterior held a coating of dust from our adventures and my head sat pressed to the window, smacking against the glass when we hit an unusually large pothole. For two weeks, my eyes had been fixed on the horizon on these drives. We had passed through towering mountains, sweeping seas of sand, and even stopped at the ocean. The green tops of trees were now a welcome sight, a new landscape framed by the two-foot wide window. Flocks of goats and sheep, sometimes accompanied by a shepherd, were woven in between the thorny bushes. CCF sat amongst the farm land, just off the gravel road. Its well manicured driveway ended in a parking lot surrounded by large barns and an array of buildings. When we offloaded the bus, we were presented with countless amounts of information about CCF. We toured facilities and met some of the most passionate conservationists. From veterinarians to dog trainers, it seemed as if everyone wholeheartedly believed in the mission at CCF.
Before I arrived in Namibia, I had heard stories about the Cheetah Conservation Fund from an array of sources, and many of them spoke about their extremely successful livestock guarding dog program. On my arrival, I immediately understood why. During our initial tour I met a young gentleman, dressed in tan work gear and speaking with a British accent. His name was Callum O’Flaherty and he was the head of Model Farm and Livestock Guarding Dog Program. His energy and excitement was released into the air with every gesture while he gave an impressive overview of his work at CCF. When asked about the goal of his program, he said this:
“What we’re doing here is working with farmers to mitigate human wildlife conflict. So we look at holistic methods [of farming]– using livestock management and livestock guarding dogs– to protect the herds from predators, and hopefully find ways to reduce conflicts between humans and wildlife…which will result in less killing of predators.”
Callum stands with a livestock guardian dog in training at the model farm. Surrounded by goats and sheep, this young dog will have the opportunity to learn and perform the duties expected of a guardian dog in this controlled environment before moving to a real farm.
The model farm at CCF aims to educate local farmers about practices in livestock management that can reduce conflict and increase yields. At the very basic level, Callum is a teacher.
“Education is key to conservation. That’s where I start,” he says. “We never push our ideas onto farmers. We never go out to their farms to tell them what to do, because that is their job.” Rather, Callum feels his role is more passion based. “My job here is to get people passionate and excited about our farming, and what we are doing here.”
Callum and the CCF team do this by hosting classes and workshops for farmers at the model farm. They hope to show farmers that these practices are not only practical, but beneficial, and are working every day on the model farm.
After spending two days with Callum,, I have never found someone more passionate about their job, or conservation. Not only does the model farm help farmers understand new agricultural methods proven to work on the landscape, as demonstrated by CCF, but it also allows farmers to learn free of charge. The education and implementation of methods like corralling and herd management has been proven to cause a 60% reduction in livestock losses. The only thing more effective in reducing losses is the guardian dogs.
The Anatolian Shepherds that the Cheetah Conservation Fund breeds, trains, and sells at a reduced price to farmers in Namibia are considered the most effective guarding method available. Their presence boasts an 80 to 100% reduction of losses. These dogs play a key role in the future of big cats in Africa by allowing both predators and agriculture to exist on the landscape.
“Dogs Saving Cats,” a slogan plastered on CCF’s livestock guarding dog banners, seems like quite the oxymoron, yet this statement couldn’t be more true. The guarding dog program has placed more than 800 dogs with local farmers in Namibia since 1994, and holds a waiting list of nearly 3 years. These “gentle giants,” as Callum calls them, are not herding dogs, but simply shepherds– placed with the herd for its protection.
An intern at CCF prepares to release the herd for grazing. The guardian dog pictured will be observed by Callum and the interns to ensure they are performing their job correctly and working well with the herd.
On my last day at CCF, I got to accompany Callum and a few interns as they took their model flock of goats and sheep to graze on the property’s pastures. As I kneeled in the livestock pen, snapping photos of the animals, I heard two bounding footsteps from my right. Suddenly, the image displayed on my camera’s viewfinder was replaced by the bright blue sky. I found myself sprawled on my back in the goat pen, dodging the muzzle of a giant white ball of fur as she tried to lick my face. It was one of the puppies in training, excited by a new visitor, and trying her best to make me feel welcome. A gentle giant indeed. She was slated to head out with the herd and be assessed on her ability to guard a flock before she would be placed with a farmer. As the gate swung open she led the herd, marking trees and shrubs and surveying the area. I came to learn that only a small portion of what these dogs do is active predator conflict. The simple act of living, marking, and the occasional barking causes predators to avoid the area and allows these dogs to keep their herds safe.
As the CCF model livestock herd grazes, guardian dogs mark trees and shrubs to leave their scent on the landscape. This presence is often enough to drive predators away from the herd without conflict. If predators do approach, barking and other intimidation factors will be used by the guardian dogs to prevent predation.
As I left CCF, I thanked Callum and asked him for his advice on how to express my ideas and love for conservation, much like I had seen him do the past few days. He told me, “It’s all about showing your passion– that is what’s going to change people’s minds. Take your time. Think about it. Talk to people. Make those relationships. Building those relationships is very important in this industry. And if you have got their back and they’ve got your back, they’re more open to listening.” Of course he had to remind me, “Don’t try and run before you can walk.”
My time at CCF, along with Callum’s advice, prompted me to ask the question, how are we helping bridge the gap between production agriculture and conservation at home? Were we taking the adequate steps to introduce new people to conservation ideas and support them through transitions? With growing populations of large predators like mountain lions on the landscape in Nebraska, I would argue relationships between agriculture and natural resource professionals are more important than ever.
Sandhill cranes (Antigone canadensis) migrate through the Central Flyway each spring on their way north to nesting grounds. During this migration, roughly a million individuals stop on the Central Platte River in Nebraska. During this time cranes rest, eat, and prepare to continue their journey north.
The Crane Trust
On the other side of the globe, in the month of March, over a million sandhill cranes pile onto sandbars and dance in the braided waters of the Platte River. This flurry of feathers has existed for generations, a weeks-long stopover for these prehistoric creatures. Each spring, the sky turns grey as cranes make their way from their wintering grounds in the Southern United States to their breeding grounds as far north as Siberia. This bottleneck along the Central Platte River is one of the last remaining pieces of riverine habitat to support these ancient migrators as they pass through Nebraska. The Crane Trust, located near Wood River, Nebraska, conserves around 10,000 acres of riverine and prairie habitat. This combination of river, prairie, and wet meadows is critical habitat for a multitude of species like beavers, greater prairie chickens, and the endangered whooping crane. Because of dams and diversions primarily for agricultural use, river flows have been significantly altered, and the surrounding valley has changed drastically. The Crane Trust works to restore and conserve this braided river system through the removal of invasive vegetation along the river, as well as controlled burning and the reseeding of native plants in the prairies.
I have vivid memories as a child during the cold spring afternoons of April, watching thousands of cranes feeding in the cut corn fields of central Nebraska. Their chortled calls split the air as they danced, wings wide open on stilt-like legs. It was fascinating to me– their time here was so brief, yet it prompted another kind of migration. Birders in every corner of the country, and around the globe, made their way to the Cornhusker state to observe this natural phenomenon.
After the cranes’ evening meal, a message was relayed between them, through dance or song, before they all returned to their river roost. At first a few would lift into the evening air, then hundreds would follow. Some took a direct flight to their roost, a special spot amongst the sandbars, yet others would soar, spiraling into the air in a behavior called “kettling.” These vortexes of avifauna filled the sky. They spun in circles, gaining altitude by using thermals to preserve precious energy, the warm air lifting their wings before they navigated their way home. As the sun sank in the direction of the river’s headwaters, we watched from its banks as waves of these birds descended onto its waters. Much like the leaves of cottonwood trees, they twisted and turned through the evening air, sun glinting off their outstretched wings until they came to rest in a colony of their companions. Soon my family piled into our car and headed back east, away from the cranes and the wide open waters of the Platte, yet the calls of the cranes continued to echo in my head.
A crane calls out as it lifts from the waters of the river. When cranes lift from their roost on the Platte River the sound can become overpowering as thousands of individuals call to their partners or chicks.
The call of those cranes has been a constant in my life. Each year, I return to the river to watch them take to the sky, a remnant of history in the Great Plains, a tradition that has existed long before our human presence. The Crane Trust hopes to ensure this tradition will continue.
“By the time the river reaches the Crane Trust from its headwaters in Colorado and Wyoming it has faced damming, development and irrigation pressures.” said Josh Wiese, the Range Manager at the Crane Trust “All of these factors affect the ecosystems we have here at the Trust”
Josh shows students from the University of Nebraska-Kearney samples from the Trust’s herbarium. The herbarium contains multitudes of prairie species critical to the biodiversity of the Great Plains.
I sat down with Josh in the fall as he prepared to give a tour to students from the University of Nebraska-Kearney. Before students arrived, we discussed the changes the Platte has faced and what the future might look like for this river and the species that rely on it.
“It’s complicated, and it’s hard. It’s a hard thing to keep faith in honestly, that this whole thing is going to be around much longer, because there’s a lot of water being used quicker than we can get it. Some changes we’ve been able to mitigate with conservation work, but in some ways it’s a bandaid for now, until we can find bigger, better solutions down the road.”
Josh walks through a patch of diverse grassland at the Crane Trust with a group of students. Though the Crane Trust gets its name from the avian life that migrates it hopes to protect, their efforts to restore the land benefit a multitude of species.
Alongside physical restoration of the river, the Crane Trust places an emphasis on education. When speaking with Amy Sandeen, formerly an educator for the Crane Trust, she emphasized how the Crane Trust hopes to connect with youth.
“It’s exploration and discovery and curiosity. And the goal is that they get hooked, they get a taste, they get some information, and then they go off and want to find out more.”
Time outdoors has proven to be beneficial to children’s mental, emotional, and physical well-being. On average, youth in America spend more than five hours a day on screens, yet only spend 4-7 minutes in unstructured outdoor play. This disconnect between youth and the outdoors could be detrimental to the future of conservation, thus making education a top priority. The Crane Trust hopes to build upon environmental education to grow their impact on conservation in Nebraska.
This impact is evident in the thousands of visitors the Crane Trust receives each year, from all across the globe. The spring migration brings guests from around the state, country, and world. This human migration benefits not only conservation initiatives but also surrounding communities. An influx of guests at hotels, restaurants, and other local businesses stimulates the local economy, supports jobs and keeps communities thriving. Many of these guests will stop in to receive viewing advice from volunteers or participate in activities at the Crane Trust visitor center. The Crane Trust also offers guided viewing of cranes at blinds alongside the river. These blinds give guests an up close experience with migrating cranes, as well as other species that benefit from their conservation efforts like pintail ducks, northern harriers, and whitetail deer. These experiences are integral to forging connections to the landscape and laying a foundation for conservation. Without exposure and education, alongside action, the future of the Platte River is uncertain. The Crane Trust hopes to continue educating and exposing guests to the beauty of the Platte, the cranes, and all the species that call central Nebraska home.
“A welcome place for friends and nature” is the slogan posted on the Crane Trust’s Visitor Center sign. During spring migration, nearly 35,000 people visit central Nebraska. These visitors hail from all across the country and world, and often stop at the Crane Trust for educational information, tours, and other engaging activities.
Prairie Plains Resource Institute
Nearby, in the town of Albion, Nebraska, environmental education programs are being implemented at the high school level. During May, students from Boone Central High School visit the Olson Nature Reserve to complete a project they have been working on throughout the school year. As the prairies turn green with new growth and water flows through Beaver Creek, these students prepare to plant plugs of grasses and forbs to help restore grasslands at the reserve.
Students from Boone Central High School stand in the Olson Nature Reserve as they prepare to plant the plugs of native prairie plants they’ve been growing in class this year.
This process began in the fall semester when students started working with the Prairie Plains Resource Institute to learn about prairie restoration, native plants, and the ecosystems that surround them in Nebraska. Alongside indoor classroom education, students have the opportunity to participate outside in a seed harvest with Prairie Plains, where they collect the seed of specific species either by hand or with machinery on active grasslands. They then tour the seed barn and greenhouse that Prairie Plains operates. As the year continues, they take the seeds harvested earlier in the fall and plant them in the greenhouse. These seeds will grow into plugs that the students plant during the spring at the reserve.
Sarah Bailey, the conservation and education director at Prairie Plains, works with these students throughout the year.
“I think that connection is really important, not only that we are getting them outside into natural spaces but also they understand there are [natural resource] career paths in Nebraska. So I think that’s an important step to retain students who want to settle in the state,” Sarah said. “These generations, they definitely have less opportunity to get outside, so that is a big thing with us to try to create those connections, get them outdoors and start showing them some neat things to let them learn on their own, experience things on their own, and to really forge those connections with nature and the places they live.”
Sarah stands over a group of native prairie plant plugs that are soon to be planted.
The Prairie Plains Resource Institute has been working with students to create conservation connections since 2019, and Sarah says the program is something she wishes she had exposure to as a young person.
“It’s something that I was excited to bring to the table because I didn’t have the opportunity growing up to learn about prairies, prairie conservation, and the people doing the work. That’s something that I was unaware of until I was in college. So one of my main goals and something I get excited about, is being able to bring that knowledge forward so kids at the high school level can start to learn about those things.”
Prairie Plains Resource Institute chooses specific species to be planted each spring based on the needs of the prairie. A plug like this one is started in the high school’s greenhouse and grown by students until it is transplanted at the prairie.
Listening to Sarah reflect on her passion for conservation and her efforts to help young people explore our wild places, I could help but to think about my own life. As a young person pursuing a career in conservation, I can proudly say that my exposure to the natural world through zoos, unstructured play and field trips, much like the one these high school students take each spring, prompted me to invest in the future of our natural resources and prompted me to work for their future conservation.
As the afternoon sun warmed the early spring day, I watched young students carrying stacks of plugs through the tall grass of the Olson Nature Reserve. The black plastic trays towered in youthful arms as Sarah instructed them where to plant. Their laughs, smiles, and the occasional complaint about the heat reminded me what all this was for– to connect the youth of today with a mission for tomorrow. Having young people invest in conservation early ensures a future in which our natural spaces can flourish and continue to support our communities with clean water and air, as well as spaces to recreate, learn and grow. Throughout the day, Sarah was alongside the students laughing, teaching, and taking moments to appreciate the impact of her work.
“I love sharing my enthusiasm and love for these places. I have a special love for the plants and insects that are in these prairie ecosystems so it’s a passion of mine that I love to share and get students excited about.”
Sarah laughs with a group of students as they water newly planted plugs in the Olson Prairie.
Though I was only able to witness one day at the Olson Prairie, it was obvious the commitment Sarah and her colleagues have for the future of conservation. Throughout my conversations with conservationists and educators, it has become increasingly clear how important it is to invest in young people like the students from Boone Central. Though many of them might not pursue a career in natural resources, the knowledge they have gained through their connection with the Prairie Plains Resources Institute may lead to a future where they consider our environment, in whichever professional field they pursue.
Calamus Outfitters
The early April sun warmed the windows of our car as we rumbled up the road. Around us, the Nebraska Sandhills were green with new growth, sprouts pushing their way upward to signify spring. The landscape was familiar, one I’d seen since childhood. We were driving along the highway, I had taken countless times to my grandparents’ house, except this time my journey would be stopped short to see a spring “soiree” that takes place each year, hidden somewhere in these hills
Prairie chickens dance on a cut crop field as the sun sets in the Nebraska Sandhills.
Fellow interns Nia Meyer, Kaden Polt, and PBT Producer Ethan Freese prepare to photograph lekking prairie chickens from a blind on the Switzer Ranch.
Prairie chickens and sharp-tailed grouse, both small game birds in the galliformes order, live in the grasslands that make up much of north-central Nebraska. Each spring, the males perform a competitive mating display for onlooking females. These dancing grounds, called “leks” are often used year after year to display a behavior that is better known as lekking. Lekking includes dancing rituals and vocalizations from the males to prove their prowess to a potential mate. For prairie chickens, large colorful orange air sacs along their necks are their main display. When lekking, these birds inflate their air sacs and accompany it with stomps, leaps, and a booming vocalization that can be heard at distances of over a mile. On a neighboring lek, the sharp-tailed grouse display consists of wide spread wings parallel to the ground, a succession of rapid stomps and a few flashes of their purple neck patch, all with their “sharp” tail feathers pointed towards the sky. Both these displays are renowned by birders, photographers and nature lovers who hope to get a glimpse of this timeless tradition.
Sharp-tailed grouse dash through the grasses in the early morning light as they display on a lek. Though prairie chickens and sharp-tailed grouse do not display together, there are occurrences of hybrid individuals as a result of cross breeding.
For people like Sarah Sortum, who owns and operates a ranch with her family near Burwell, Nebraska, these birds have been in her backyard her whole life. Yet, it wasn’t until adulthood that she realized the role they could play in her family’s operation. Sarah’s family has owned the Switzer Ranch since 1905, and despite what the large wooden sign engraved “Calamus Outfitters” at the end of the driveway might suggest, they haven’t always been in the ecotourism industry.
“You know, I kind of had that mindset shift… that if you can create an experience that does have value, you don’t necessarily need the customer to walk away with anything in hand if they have that experience. The prairie chickens and the grouse are a prime example of that. Just creating that really cool experience that people can come enjoy is a great business,” Sarah said when asked about the importance of hosting ecotourism experiences at the ranch.
When considering the economic response to ecotourism in the otherwise remote sandhills, Sarah considered, “it can help your entire community. It helps everybody around you and it especially benefits your rural economy.”
The large wooden sign along the highway signifies Calamus Outfitters and the Switzer ranch to passing vehicles.
While the Switzer Ranch’s main focus continues to be in cattle production, Sarah and her family created Calamus Outfitters to offer bird watching, jeep tours of the Sandhills, and float trips down the nearby Calamus River. When the Outfitters first began, Sarah’s brother Adam offered guided hunting trips on the ranch, then over time, tourism at the ranch turned towards connecting people with the environment through other experiences. This ecotourism has prompted better stewardship and connection to different parts of the ranch, proving that both a healthy environment and profitable agriculture can coexist.
“We always have enjoyed birds, but we never really got to know the ins and outs of their life cycle until people started asking us about it when they visited. So it spurred us to learn a lot more about our land and about the different species that rely on it and maybe how to manage it a little bit better… I do feel that we manage our ranch better now than we did before we had the outfitters. And that’s great because we want to show responsible stewardship.” Sarah said. “And so recognizing that our natural resources, the land that we have, that’s the basis of both of our businesses. Whether you look at it on the ranch side or the outfitter side, if we don’t have healthy land, we don’t have a healthy future.”
Horses on the Switzer ranch watch as my fellow interns explore the nearby creek. The Switzer Ranch does a great job stewarding the land to balance its use in agriculture and natural resources.
Alongside stewarding her family’s land, Sarah has traveled to Namibia twice to understand more about ecotourism, experience different forms of environmental education, and receive guide certifications. She says this education has allowed her to improve Calamus Outfitters and engage more with ecotourism. Throughout this time, Sarah’s love for ecotourism alongside agriculture has only grown, and she says the experience of educating guests on their ranch is extremely rewarding.
Sarah Sortum sits on a landcruiser in Namibia used for game drives and ecotourism activities. Sarah has made two visits to Southern Africa to learn more about guiding and the ecotourism industry. (Photo provided by Sarah Sortum)
“It’s so great when we invite people onto our land because they can come and experience it with all their senses right here. And that’s so much easier for me to show them, rather than if I would go to a classroom or a more sterile environment and try and explain to them…they can go out and they can look at it and touch it and see it and taste it and use all of their senses to create an experience.” Sarah said. “That’s why I love ecotourism, because you don’t have to have anything fancy to get started. If you have a passion about something and you want to share it, figure out a way to make an experience around that and you’re going to be just fine.”
Platte Basin Timelapse producers and interns walk through the pastures of the Switzer Ranch as fog rolls over the Sandhills. After a morning of watching sharp-tailed grouse it’s time to head back to the outfitters to warm up.
After a few days on the ranch, I can confidently say Sarah and her family have made their passions a continuous educational experience, and one that has had a lasting impact on me. Even as the seasons pass, I can still remember the booming display as prairie chickens danced upon spring sprouts. I can feel the cold early mornings and late afternoon rain showers as the Sandhills start to green with new growth. It’s an experience that cannot be replicated anywhere, one that strips you to your soul and reminds you what it means to be human. Because no matter how far we stray from our roots, it is imperative to remember we too live with this landscape, and our actions will shape the future of these wild places. It is these actions that will either help or hurt the future of our planet, and it is up to us to write our legacy.
Conclusion
After thousands of miles, many life-changing experiences, and some extremely amazing conversations, I have found that ecotourism is ultimately fueled by passion. An indescribable connection to the land, its flora and fauna, and a mission to protect the future of these sacred things. It is a desire to connect others with the places they call home, in hopes that newcomers will form a connection as deep and profound as those who, despite its hardships, continue to live with and conserve the land.
Despite our differences: where we were raised, our conservation experience, or our economic understanding, there is a connection between us all– a wilderness within. As a young person, I wonder what the future may hold, and how I can help. So often I see separation, clashes against conservation, destruction of our wild spaces, and I feel hopeless. But when my feet are on the ground, talking to those working to make a difference, I know there is a future for the unique landscapes and organisms that call this planet, home.
From Thorsten’s and Sarah’s agriculture operations, to the education of young people in the desert sands of Namibia or the prairies and plains of Nebraska, and organizations like the Crane Trust and Cheetah Conservation Fund, it is clear that conservation will, and must, continue. The future rests in our hands, and it is our job to ensure that future generations will have a connection to the land.
So take the time to look at the landscapes around you, share your passions, and connect with the wilderness that exists within us all.
