Today, and for the first time for you, I would like to write about motivation. Why wildlife.sk, and why do we go out into the wild at all? About what motivates me. About what probably motivates you, who visit this site. Because we have something in common. The love for nature that won’t fade away. The one that still lives somewhere deep in us even when we are in big cities. The love that springs forth to the surface when we are in the wilderness.
The mine scraped along for several years in Prague. In Prague, where other loves have their big opportunities. And from this city of big opportunities, it forced me to return back home. To Liptov. To my brave relatives. To Slovakia – the country that always takes one step forward, and several steps back. To the country that as one of few in Europe hasn’t destroyed every inch of its wilderness. So far.
But it tries hard and tenaciously to do so. It tries to catch up with all the developed countries that, contrariwise, bemoan the lost wilderness and try to create conditions for its return.
Perhaps it is not possible to skip any stage of development…
I look forward for the time, when people will admire a meadow without a path and a forest without a road. A mountain without ski slopes. They will look at a track of wolf or bear without fear. And feel immensely proud and excited that the forest, they roam through, is home to a true and thriving wolf pack. That there are trees lying on the ground in that forest, decomposing, providing home to thousands of organisms, who all together compose that forest. A forest with a completeness, functioning, and interactions of all its individual components that man can never fully understand in its entirety.
I don’t know if we will live to see that. That change of thinking. That gradual rebirth of people. But we must strive for it. Because now we are a mere step from destroying wilderness. Once and forever. Wilderness may not be cultivated back. That’s why it is wilderness. But I want that this chance will be there for my daughter, and her children, and the grand children of all of us.
Because they will already want to, but maybe they won’t have possibility to!
They might not be able to sleep in a valley they could call Ticha (the Silent) – where you can hear no distant humming of a motorway or a train. They might not be able to bivouac in roadless glens. Where no harvesters can get to. Where there are no ski slopes.
To observe undisturbed bears playing their wise games. To spot an inaudible wolf.
They will also look for the fragile balance between business and life. Family and work. Money and true relaxation. And teach their children to find it.
Just as I am looking for it, a poor soul, living on the edge of weekdays and weekends. Without a jeep, without a gun. Only with a backpack, and my nostrils wide open. Or cross-country skis. Admiring each print of the wilderness in the snow. Not taking anything away and still returning with so many treasures. The antlers of each deer I saw. The playfulness of each bear I observed withholding my breath. Frown of the mother bear looking into my eyes full of tremble for her children´s safety. Enriched by the philosophy of my cousins, who inspect each mouldering snag with the excitement of small boys.