A Letter to Aldo Leopold

Dear Aldo,

I just finished reading A Sand County Almanac for the second time in my life. I read it the first time in college, when it felt like required reading. I retained a sense of wonder from it, but not much else. I recently started a quest to read a conservation related book every month and February 2019 was your classic work. This time round, I learned so much more. Possibly because I chose it out of my own free will instead of a sense of obligation. Possibly because I am more in tune with the world around me and my own role and sense of identity than I was years ago. Possibly also because I care more deeply than I did before, if that is possible.


This past week was spent with a group of women who shared very similar ideals to me, in the broad sense, though we all gathered from very different backgrounds and life histories. As we backpacked through the Galiuro Wilderness, I kept hearing your voice in the background, whispering to me about the value of wilderness and respect for the land, and the importance of every aspect of the community. My personal sense of wonder at the land I was exploring was only enhanced by thoughts of how you would perceive the area. Would you have enjoyed it in the same way that I did? Am I capable of the deep reflection and care for this land that you had for your sandy farm? Do I truly understand what it means to be a human, aware and responsible of my surroundings, and can I do the best possible work to achieve the best possible future for our lands?


I hope so. I hope that everything I am trying to do would make you proud. I hope that my conservation efforts are not in vain. I hope that by appreciating wilderness and public lands and doing it in a nonconsumptive way will support the cause so that others in the future may also have that ability and luxury. The land is not mine. It is not ours. As you say, we belong to the land, the land does not belong to us. Being a part of the community is valuable, in an intangible and hard to describe way. Economic value is not the only value worth having.


This past week in the wilderness definitely left me with a sense of awe. I had private conversations with the wind, the trees, the birds, the rivers, and the rocks. I gently touched Douglas firs and manzanitas as I hiked, saying hello and also thanking them for their presence. I felt the heat emanating from the red rock as I summited a mountain. Rock that had been there for thousands of years, simply standing the test of time, and I was lucky enough to be party to its presence and enjoy some warmth and greetings from them.


I feel very grateful for the lessons of respect your writings have instilled in me. I can only imagine what I will learn from you when I dive further into your works and life lessons. It’s difficult for me to fathom what else you might have accomplished after A Sand County Almanac, and though I cannot know for sure what it could have been, I am confident that the world is a little worse off for your departure.


Thank you for imparting wisdom on me and to anyone who has been fortunate enough to find your writings, and anyone perceptive enough to fully absorb them as I feel I have. It’s truly transformative and I am inspired by your dedication to journaling and essays, and I hope I can commit to doing that in my own life in the way that you have. Thank you for everything!