Tracking Rabbits in a Dry Land

           Ty’s white paws pitter pattered against the black asphalt walking path. His tail swung with excitement as he tugged against his leash, overcome with joy at the opportunity to stop and smell the world. He stopped to sniff at some sagebrush, so I took the opportunity to gaze up at the red mountain. It was a clear, early morning, and the air was fresh with the coolness that nighttime brought. A rustle in nearby bushes caught my attention, and a small grey rabbit darted away. A moment too late, I realized what would happen. Ty took off like a bullet, with my arm still attached, and he yanked me into a sprint after the poor cottontail. After finding my footing and pulling my dog away from the chase, I reveled at the fate of the rabbit. Though my dog didn’t catch it, it would probably be in the same danger all its life. These rabbits live too close to human settlement for their comfort because the natural washes which supply water to the plants they eat run right through developed areas. When these washes fill with rainwater, a large portion of the water comes from runoff from the streets. This runoff is usually dirty and cloudy.

           My dog sufficiently calmed, we turned onto a path that led away from the roads, deeper into the red dirt, cacti, and black lava rock. We passed another curve of the natural wash, but I paused in surprise. The plants that grew at the edges and bottom of the wash were lush and thick. They were green, unlike the stubby dry bushes that grew near the roads, and I even spotted some flowering desert willow.

           It was shocking to see the comparison between the two portions of the wash that were in contact with different water sources. It reminded me of the article “Oases in a Dry Land,” which discussed the human impact on the Colorado River. Continued diversion of water from the river lowered its banks, negatively impacting the foliage that grew along it. The decreasing of the plant life, which is a habitat for numerous birds and animals in the area, put pressure on these bird species. We see a scale model in our own backyard of Southern Utah. As the author, David Owen, did in “Oases in a Dry Land,” I urge readers to consider the effect that we have on our natural desert wildlife, and how even the slightest things we do can harm these creatures. 

Where are all the children?

As my footsteps crunched along the hiking trail, the warm air rustled through my hair, bringing relief from the lingering heat of the day. The cloudless sky was a deep blue, the sunset tinging the western edge of the horizon bright yellow. Against the azure backdrop stood the red mountains, iron-orange rocks painting a vivid contrast. I smiled as an elderly couple with walking sticks in hand strolled past me. All the way up the canyon I knew walked other adults, all taking in the sights and energy of the mountains. Among them, though, one would find difficulty trying to find a child. Where were all the children?

              I passed the sand dunes, their golden grains glinting in the dying light. A group of college students sprinted at each other, erupting in laughter when they tripped through the sand. Their game was forgotten as they dumped the orange grit out of their shoes and shook it out of their hair. Scanning the sandy stretch, I saw no one else enjoying the dunes; no families, no kids. Where were all the children?

              Walking deeper into the canyon, the gentle slopes of white boulders caught my eye. I remembered taking hikes with my family when I was younger; my siblings and I would race to the top of these rock formations, all trying to make it up first. The natural playgrounds still tempted me, but it appeared that I was the only one affected. No children clambered over the rocks, trying to fit themselves into the shallow caves and depressions. Where were all the children?

                My recent hikes up through Snow Canyon left me with a meditative state of mind, due to the sheer magnificence and beauty of nature. However, I still had the question lingering in my mind: Where were all the children? It struck me as odd that although the park was abundant with people enjoying what it had to offer, there were virtually no children. I feel like there’s a problem here. Why are parents not bringing their kids to our beautiful state parks? Is it because our kids are spending too much time on devices? Is their free time monopolized by extracurriculars? Is their only outside time spent on a ballfield in organized sports? How do we give these children the freedom to enjoy the beauty of nature on their own?