In just a little under a month of serving at the SLA I already feel like this is home. Never before have I bonded so closely with a group of individuals, and never before have I been so excited to go to service every day. At least once I day I close my eyes, breathe in, and think to myself “wow, life is really good”. I am surrounded by extremely intelligent, kind, and resourceful individuals with whom I am able to talk about anything and everything with. Everyone has an extremely unique background as well as a plethora of knowledge and life experience to share. I love getting to know everyone and their individual passions. As I write this, I am sitting in our cabin surrounded by my fellow squam lakes and Newfound lake AmeriCorps members and I can’t help but smile. I feel like a part of a tight knit community made up of different yet like-minded people all working to conserve our beautiful lakes region.
While I very much enjoy being surrounded by the SLA community and welcome the feeling of a return to normalcy during the covid era, I also find myself craving time alone to observe and document my beautiful surroundings. I have found that photography brings me an enormous sense of awe and humbles me to my core. My photography journey began in Costa Rica, where I was able to study abroad for a short period of time. A week before leaving I picked up my mom’s old camera, which had been untouched for at least a decade. To acquaint myself with this unfamiliar device I began photographing (or attempting to photograph) my dogs. Then I tried some bird photography, and I knew this was going to become my favorite hobby. Upon arriving in Costa Rica, I was still very unfamiliar with the camera, so I took pictures of anything and everything so that when I found an opportunity for an amazing shot I would be prepared. That opportunity came when a group of twenty or so coatis (females travel in large packs) coincidently decided to travel by the biological station we were staying at, and I happened to be sitting on the steps to the lawn below tucked behind a bush, camera in hand. A young coati straying from the group wandered towards me, apprehensive, yet curious about this strange creature pointing a cylinder at it. I took a few quick pictures but was sure to lower my camera and observe the curious creature without the barrier of the camera lens between us. The coati approached me very closely and I am sure if I had reached out my hand, I would have been able to touch her. I made sure to move very slowly, so as not to spook her. We sat there for what felt like minutes, observing one another, each equally as curious about the other creature. Eventually she moved on to rejoin her group, and I was left feeling immensely satisfied and extremely confident I had gotten an amazing shot of the juvenile coati. After the group passed by, I ran to my room eager to transfer the files to my computer and view them. To my dismay, all the photos turned out blurry. While I was obviously somewhat disappointed, I couldn’t help but smile at the amazing experience I had just had. Since then, regardless of the quality of my pictures, I am satisfied after every photography outing I have because of the connection I am able to form with the world surrounding me.
Photography brings me peace. I can spend hours alone outside with my camera waiting patiently, my eyes targeting any movement and ears tuned in to the slightest shuffle or splash. Hours feel like minutes and the sun sets before I even know its lunch time. Sometimes I see lots of creatures, other times I see nothing, which is okay because I am here to observe nature and some days not a creature stirs about. Most humans have the conception that we are removed from nature and are therefore not a part of it. I understand how it feels that way, as we live in enclosed houses lit by artificial lights with separate rooms so we can be even further removed from our own species. But humans are just animals. One of my favorite quotes from is “”. Sitting silently for hours in my kayak on White Oak Pond in a cove inhabited by beavers, I feel rejoiced in my connection to the world and the place I hold in it. Here, I am in the beavers’ and loons’ home, not my own. I feel humbled by the innate architecture of the beaver’s residence and the birds that take advantage of the free nesting site. I see a loon pop up nearby and watch it disappear under the water, my eyes scanning for where it will pop up next. I am again amazed by the diversity and capabilities of other organisms that we humans tend to view as “inferior”.
Since journeying to New Hampshire and joining the LRCC team here at the Squam Lakes Association, I have been able to spend lots of time outdoors and really allow myself to think and enjoy the surrounding world. In college it was hard for me to truly enjoy my outdoor time because there was always some assignment or task looming over my head. Any time I was outside relaxing away from my school responsibilities, my mind always wandered back to the tasks hanging over me and began planning the rest of my week. Now, I am able to let my mind wander endlessly, and I am becoming more familiar with myself and who I am. I look forward to spending more time in the beautiful mountains and water bodies of New Hampshire, getting to know myself and surroundings more intimately. I look forward to sharing my journey and photographs with the public!
April is part of the half-year crew serving at the Squam Lakes Association. She graduated from Hobart and William Smith Colleges this spring with a degree in Biology and minors in Geoscience and Environmental Studies. Learn more about April here!