1 Million Letters Campaign
Letter and photographs from:

Cole W. Logan, 20, USA

What does nature mean to me? A question like this is daunting, I won’t deny that. Not because I don’t have an answer, but rather because I have too many.

A question like this feels almost rhetorical. What does nature mean to me? What doesn’t nature mean to me? Nature is my everything. Nature is my sanctuary, my playground, my study, my place of physical and mental rebirth, my place of infinite knowledge and discovery. Nature is my second mother. Nature is where I was raised, where I was nurtured, where I learned the way the world works, and where I found myself in some of the greatest moments of living so far. Nature is my past and my future. Nature is the hand-me-down of prior generations, now in my hands to choose Her fate. Nature is my precious heirloom, my responsibility, and my old friend. Nature has been there for me through the best and worst times of my life. It’s only right that I’m here for Her now. A protector, a guardian, a youth with a big dream. I’m one of millions of voices with similar stories, views, ideas, and a dream. A dream to save nature during one of the most trying times induced by the actions of any creature.

When I was fifteen, I stepped off of an old boat and planted my feet into the rich soil of the Peruvian Amazon. During that moment, as I felt the mud compact under my soles and wrap around my toes, as I listened to the chorus of life above and around me, as my senses gorged themselves with the wealth of sights and smells, I realized what nature was at its core, and where my life was destined to take me. I thought I knew nature when I was younger. I thought I knew nature as parks, hikes, and reservoirs. I wasn’t wrong in thinking this, because it was and still is nature. However, it feels different. Through neat trails, paved pathways, signs, benches, parking lots, and recreational fields, I see it as modified. It’s all nature, yes, but to fit human use. When I explored the Peruvian Amazon, I realized the grandeur of life that was possible without immense human interference. The nature I knew vanquished in an instant as I discovered creatures and plants that looked like the drawings of a child limited to a neon box of crayons. It was an entirely new world. This world, this nature, this reality became standard and something to strive for. This isn’t to invalidate the efforts, contributions, and importance of parks, hikes, and reservoirs in their preservation of nature, as I enjoy them frequently. What I mean to say is that there exist pockets on this planet that are critical and pristine, burgeoning with life and ecoservices that are ignored. Just as there are keystone species, I believe there are keystone ecosystems. When we look at the troubled locations across the planet, it’s not the parks, hikes, and reservoirs bustling with human activity, but rather these keystone ecosystems. The lands that are most valuable to us are the lands that are unheard of, unseen, and in the most danger. The bounty of Central and South America has been facing exploitation and disregard since the mid 1900s, and nearing a century later we’re still having to fight walls for justification to save it and to take better care of one of the biggest natural powerhouse systems this planet harbors.

When I think about the time I’ve been born in, it would be easy for me to become spiteful, angry, and resentful towards the people before my time. It would be easy for me to give up hope and push the blame onto the generations who laid this harrowing groundwork; to throw in the towel and say it’s no use. However, when I think about the time I’ve been born in, I’m thankful. I’m thankful because I was born into a generation that has a voice and that recognizes the pleas from Her falling. I’m thankful because I was born into a time where there is still hope and the possibility for change, healing, and reversal. Alone, my voice is strong enough to catch the attention of a few hundred people. Paired with the millions of other concerned, destined, and spirited people, our united voice will be undeniable. I was born into the incubation period before an ecological renaissance. Although our voices are colossal and will be heard, we shouldn’t be the only ones working towards nature’s salvation. With the aid of corporations, industries, and governments, our powerful river can become a tsunami of progress, change, and transformation for the good of nature. For the good of our planet and all its life.

Reversing the damage that has been and is currently being done to our planet is a big task, but nowhere near impossible. With the help of the industrial and governmental systems, it could be light work. However, time is finite. With such a massive biodiversity collapse on our hands, we need to act sooner than later. Not only do we wish to gain the support of industries and governments, but we also need to lessen the impact of those that are currently contributing to the demise of nature. Borrowing from the push for 30 by 30, in just 10 years we should strive to conserve at least 30% of U.S. land and oceans, mitigating threats from habitat loss and exploitation. Although this would not fix all of the problems we currently face, it would be an extraordinary start and marker for future progress.

If we continue to lose nature, we continue to lose precious history, the resources that all life depends on, and the invaluable ecoservices that sustain Earth. Habitat degradation, climate change, resource exploitation, chemical use, and countless other factors induced by human activity are constantly chipping away at the planet and its wealth of benefits. What bothers me most is the loss of biodiversity. Scientists estimate that at least 150 undiscovered species go extinct each day. What are those species that are lost every day? Keystone species? Ecosystem engineers? A breakthrough in medicine or technology? No one can ever know. Every day we lose species that we never even have a chance to discover, catalogue, and research. People might wonder why this matters and why I even care. What matters if a hundred or so species are lost each day when we have millions? First, 150 species a day (at least) adds up to nearly 55,000 species extinct a year. So what? The loss of biodiversity is so critical because everything on this planet is connected; every creature plays a role no matter to its size. If we lose even one species, it can lead to a cascade that rampages through ecosystems and ultimately causes a collapse. Biodiversity is the backbone of ecosystems, and ecosystems are the backbone of the sustainability of our planet. When we’re losing species at unprecedented rates, we’re heading straight for an inevitable hiccup in the carefully crafted balance and functionality our planet has fine-tuned over hundreds of millions of years. One perfectly horrible trip is all it can take to nudge Earth’s future into fatal territory, and we’re already traveling down a very bumpy road.

Cole W. Logan

[The 1 Million Letters campaign asks young people to write letters directed toward world leaders, explaining why they love nature, and why our leaders need to commit to protecting our last wild places. For every letter we receive, we contribute $3 toward our active youth-funded reserve project. To become a sponsor of this campaign to empower youth to protect biodiversity, please contact us!]