I am most interested in protecting riparian systems from harmful industrial structures while providing clean water, healthy food, and efficient energy to the world’s growing population. To that end, I believe that creative agriculture and advancements in solar technology together have the potential to reduce overall demand on waterways and mitigate the deleterious impacts of their industrialization. Since the 1800s, industrializing economies around the world have harnessed the power of rivers to build their nations. Starting in the 1970s, however, scientists began to study the harm which these rivers have endured throughout the industrialization process. They found that dams, a key component of this process, cut off modes of transit for aquatic species and limited the interchange of nutrients up and down river systems. Moreover, they revealed that the rerouting of riverine channels and the canalization of entire waterway systems had the sum effect of weakening stream beds and depleting the soil nutrient bases in surrounding forests and farmlands. When rivers are unable to bring rich sediment downstream un-impeded and fish and other aquatic animals are unable to transport nutrients back upstream, entire riparian systems and the forests, grasslands, and farms they support become endangered. While certain mitigating techniques have been advanced, like the introduction of fish ladders to dams or the construction of wider culverts to facilitate greater nutrient interchange, I believe the more exciting innovations lie away from rivers altogether. Creative agriculture designs offer a unique solution to producing sustainable energy, increasing crop yields, and lessening overall demand on waterways. Namely, a burgeoning agricultural method, which combines solar farming with the growth of traditional crops, has the potential to address all three concerns. In this style, farms are outfitted with solar panels around which crops are planted. The panels not only generate sustainable electricity, but they also protect the soil from overexposure to the sun. In such a system, since the soil does not dry out as quickly, farmers produce higher yields with less water and retain healthy soils for longer. As we see further innovations in solar technology, like the production of high-efficiency crystalline photovoltaic cells and the introduction of thermo-radiative photovoltaic devices, this method will only become more effective and further reduce the demand for hydroelectric power. By operating at the intersection of ecological research, environmental policymaking, and responsible land management, I will seek to promote this pioneering form of agriculture and other sustainable solutions to further stimulate more regenerative farming, less monocropping, and healthier vegetative buffers among farms, forests, and waterways. Through this technologically innovative, socially aware, and policy-driven approach, more dams can be decommissioned and more rivers de-industrialized, while access to clean water, healthy food, and abundant energy increases. As such, creative agriculture, solar technology, and integrative decision-making offer a most exciting path to meeting our energy and food needs, while simultaneously revitalizing the waterways on which a well-fed and energy-secure populace can depend for generations to come.

I consider myself a naturephile in that I have a deep respect for nature and its simple usefulness. In fact, I am a dedicated pupil to that usefulness. Several years ago, my love of nature brought me to a unique task: creating a fishing kit from all-natural materials, and while I was not immediately aware, nature as an infinite source of learning was preparing for me lessons of humility and perseverance. It is one of the great fortunes of my life that I grew up on approximately five acres of tree-dotted land abutting a once-spring-fed pond. This afforded me the privilege of ready access to the natural resources I would need to see my project through. After a quick survey of the land, I decided to use a willow tree branch as my pole, pine straw as my line, and an orange tree thorn as my hook. I allowed myself a single multi-tool, which included a miniature hatchet and a knife blade. The first task was to acquire my pole. I wanted one approximately eight feet in length, so I climbed a few feet up in a willow tree and, leaning out over the water to reach a favorable-looking branch, began hacking with my multi-tool. After only a few short strokes I had detached my pole and descended from the tree to set off to my next task, acquiring the fishing line. Living in south Mississippi, I had no trouble finding ample pine straw, and given the springtime frame in which I was working, many of the needles were a beautiful green, which are far more workable than their brown counterparts. I plucked a few limbs from a pine tree and brought them to my outdoor worktable, where I set about braiding the needles. Given the treble structure of each pine straw fascicle, I determined that a three braid would be the most efficient way to form my line. After working for several hours, I had braided about four feet of line out of the eight I determined I would need. I was tired and light was fading quickly, so I laid my work down and went inside, planning to finish it the subsequent day. When I returned the following day, the beautiful green pine straw had faded to brown, and I discovered quickly that braiding green pine straw into brown pine straw is utterly ineffective. Reluctantly, I detached my four feet of line and gathered the materials I would need to braid all my line in one sitting. It was early in the morning when I began my work and late afternoon when I finished, but I was satisfied with my eight feet of line. I ran the orange tree thorn hook through the end of the line to complete the ensemble. Now, in an all-natural setting I would probably have used a worm or insect as bait, but since I did not wish to harm any animals unnecessarily, I used some old bread instead. The line was not in the water long when it was assailed by fish. I even hooked one bream but was unable to land it, and I eventually snapped my line over a low-hanging branch. This defeat could have been interpreted as a waste of hours of labor, but I had learned so much, it was hard for me not to see it as a success. I had reaffirmed the effectiveness of bread as bait, confirmed that willow’s flexible wood could serve as a pole, learned that braiding pine straw is an all-day affair, and seen firsthand the necessity of perseverance to the completion of a meaningful task. All those lessons were wrapped up in one experience that has left indelible marks across my memory. I often remember this story, and I am fond of retelling it. And each time I do, I necessarily recognize that it was my access to the great outdoors that made this experience possible. Without that ready access, such experiences and the unique education they bring would have been lost on my young self. That recognition is why conservation has become a priority of my professional career at the United States Forest Service. The USFS, as stewards of the nation’s grasslands and forests, to my mind, is responsible, more than any other governmental agency, for providing the access that I enjoyed in my youth to all of America. Working as a partnership coordinator, I seek partners to be conservation stewards of our public lands, and to shift the historical balance of how our public lands are used away from its heavy emphasis on timber harvest, as elucidated in Paul Hirt’s A Conspiracy of Optimism. Moreover, I am intentionally emphasizing partners that have broad conservation goals to rectify an imbalance in the partnership realm of favoring more narrow recreation-only goals. I believe that thinking of the natural world systematically and being aware of its wholeness is crucial to creating a more sustainable relationship between humans and their natural environment. When I think of that experience of crafting a fishing kit, it strikes me how the constituent parts of willow, pine, and orange trees came together and became a medium between myself and the fresh water of the pond. I become aware that focusing exclusively on pine for timber, as foresters in Mississippi often do, misses their potential to interact with the other organisms of the forest. It disallows the opportunities I experienced and restricts the lessons of nature. I hope to continue broadening my understanding of the natural heritage of the United States, and in so doing contribute, in my own way, to creating a world where more people have the opportunities I did to learn from nature. Like the orange thorn on my fishing kit, I hope to serve a small but proud role in this larger collective goal: respecting nature both as a resource and as a gracious educator.