Page 124 - ECOlogic Book

Did I dare to hope that my unconventional mowing patterns would be
honored when I returned to Michigan? Did Mrs. Killdeer dare to hope? Well,
yes, I did. I hoped to visit the following spring to see if the killdeer nest
would be repeated in the driveway. I hoped to stand in the dining room
window with the field glasses and not see any chicks, as they made their

way safely hidden from human view, across the lawn via the most recently
created dogleg, toward the safety island their mother had so gallantly
created for them.

It was worth the power withdrawal I suffered when I returned to my postage
stamp-sized lawn in Michigan. I plugged in my little Black and Decker
electric mower and listened to its modest hum, no louder than a blender. I
walked humbly behind it, dragging its nicked, orange umbilical cord. As I did
so, I could imagine actual nostalgia for Jan’s gas-guzzling, lurching, belching

roaring lawn-monster. I knew I’d fondly remember a fine summer of creative
lawn sculpting, and a certain fearless killdeer, who faced down a tank in New
Jersey’s Tiananmen Square.

The Pressure to Conform
And that’s how it goes when nature and culture meet, only nature doesn’t
usually come out the winner, as it did that time. And did nature really win
that one? Even with all the killdeer taught me, I’d continued to ride the
mowing tractor, mowing right over killdeer eggs, for all I knew.

Although I’ve moved from the postage stamp yard and now have my own
natural habitat yard, I still mow parts of it - paths and clearings and some
of the parts the neighbors can see. Why do I mow at all, feeling the way I
do? Part of the answer is that I like the contrast of wild and tame, brush
and clearing. Animals as well as humans use my paths. I know because I see
their tracks and scat there, so I can convince myself that paths are good.
But a great deal of my mowing still comes from a wish to conform, and out
of a wish not to have my homeowner’s insurance cancelled, as I’ve been told
sometimes happens to people who leave their lawns unmowed. Recently I’ve

seen some yards, even in urban settings, where the ecologically devoted
owners have torn up the lawn and put in all natives, front and back. While I
admire their chutzpah, I know myself well enough to proceed cautiously,
shrinking the lawn gradually, hoping the neighbors will get used to it and not
be offended by it. I do not handle confrontation well. I get flustered, forget

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