As a small child, I loved spending days at the beach digging for shellfish, heaving rocks aside to reveal tiny scrambling crabs, and peering over docks to watch the shimmers of light darting below as little fish pecked at the last piece of hot dog I had dropped into the water.
As a biology student, I have not only been able to continue to observe nature’s curiosities, but have been encouraged to retain my so-called childish wonder of the natural world.
Studying biology in university has served to validate my love of nature and all its complexity. It is astonishing how dramatically the study of biology shifts depending on the scale at which one is making an observation.
In biology, you can study ecology and learn about the interactions between groups of plants, animals, and the Earth ranging across the oceans. On the other hand, you can choose to focus on the internal workings of a single heart cell and watch it beat under a microscope. It is amazing when you learn how to relate these different ranges of focus on the natural world, and start to understand how they are all interconnected.
Often I find myself awestruck when I stop to consider the scope and scale of what we understand about biology. I can feel what I hold in my hands and I know what I can see; beyond that yields to the forces of the imagination. I find imagining that which I cannot directly experience in the field of biology to be rather delightful.
If you pay attention, the details of the natural world are incredible. Next time you walk past the opening of an anthill, take a moment to consider that it is the opening to a complex network of tunnels and chambers with an organized community containing its own Queen, soldiers, and workers. At the beach, remind yourself of the fact that the waves at your feet are a part of a vast ocean, connected with others around the globe!
As I have progressed through my degree, I’ve found my perception of the world has changed. Walking through the forest, or even down the streets of Vancouver, I have come to notice my surroundings under ‘the biologist’s lens.’
I can’t help but take notice of the lichen growing on the trees along the boulevard, or the trail left by the slug across the pavement. While this may be because I come from an artistic household, I also notice how beautiful these scenes are — like little pieces of art that have appeared just for me. The lichen grows as delicate fractals of silver lace, and the slug’s slime-trail has an iridescent quality that sparkles in the sunlight.
Being surrounded by other biology enthusiasts has also been something of a revelation to me. I have found a close network of friends who won’t think I am peculiar for stopping to look at a big old cedar, a slimy black slug, or a tiny delicate mushroom. Instead, I am greeted with a similar enthusiasm and sometimes a fun fact or Latin name. It honestly feels like some biologists are walking encyclopedias, ready to spill over with facts and observations.
Biology is also great because it is simply fun. Personally, I am appreciative of the opportunities I have had to get my hands dirty once in a while. I have had labs that involved planting seeds, drawing starfish, and even canoeing down a river for a field course I participated in last summer.
In today’s world, we are all coming to terms with the reality of a degrading climate and the fact that delicate ecosystems are being pushed to their brink. It is therefore immensely important that we encourage children and adults alike to take notice of the natural world.
The consequences of our actions are melting glaciers, poisoned soils, and shrinking what little we have left of our once lush and diverse ecosystems. Species are going extinct every day at an accelerated rate, and that is just the tip of the (melting) iceberg.
While this is evidently scary from an anthropocentric perspective — as we are progressively making our own habitat less hospitable — we should also mourn the loss of biodiversity and raw beauty of our planet.
However, there is no need to be entirely negative. While learning about biology helps us all to understand what we have to lose, it also shows us the remarkable resilience of nature and its capacity to heal and adjust itself. And that gives me hope.
I am astounded daily by the diversity and immensity of life on our tiny blue and green dot in this solar system, and have consequently come to be humbled in understanding my place upon it. No matter what I choose to pursue after I finish my degree, one thing is for certain: I will always be a naturalist, and studying biology is going to get me there.
