Chris Audette and Diane R. Wiener met several times to reflect on ecosystem conservation, education, and accessibility (including but not only “disability”-related access). A series of conversations unfolded over email, in-person, and extemporaneously in the presence of Chris’s two young children while we all visited together at the Center. A late December 2024 discussion occurred face-to-face with just the two of us, as well.
CA: Experiencing nature at its core is a conversation between your cells and the essence of all being. Infinitely variable in language, tempo, and timbre, how we interact with nature is both undefinably specific and immutably universal. And we need it on the same molecular basis that we need water.
Also of interest is layering human interaction and the diversity of human experience on top of nature immersion. Let’s talk nature.
WG: In your original comments to me, you noted that, “This piece is a reflection. In every sense of the word.” You were concerned that it might seem like you were, as you put it, “…pandering to those who experience the world visually.”
CA: Yes, we often convey our appreciation of the many nuances of our outdoor experience by invoking the grand “scenic beauty of the great outdoors.” Look at this pretty thing–a reflection of a mountain in a lake or the mirror image of the sky reflected on the surface of a humble puddle.
WG: We talked later about the ways in which naming and recognition are important to accessibility and inclusion. For example, sometimes a pine cone is a pine cone, but sometimes, as you showed me, it’s really a spruce cone. And you explained the difference between an antler and a horn to me as the kids ran around playing near us, shortly after one of them asked “what is this?” enthusiastically.
CA: Indeed, and the people I interact with at the Center are often amazed at the array and diversity of cone-bearing trees, even just the few for which we have examples.
WG: When we originally planned your offering a piece of writing as a “Reading Loop,” and later decided to craft an interview—or have a series of conversations—instead, you had shared with me that you hoped to articulate “the particular way” you “relate to nature and the experience of being outside.”
In one of our email exchanges, you shared, “It is shaped and modulated by how I’ve been instructed and influenced across a lifetime of schooling and discourse.”
CA: For me, reflection also refers to my interactions with people at the Center and the natural spaces for which Waterman serves as a steward—experiences I frequently find myself reflecting on.
As an environmental educator, [the particular way I relate to nature] is a reflection of/on how I’ve observed many hundreds of others enjoying, lamenting, and/or wholesale disregarding their own very unique outdoor experiences.
The word reflection, of course, not only refers to introspection or to various wavelengths of light bouncing to-and-fro. Reflection refers more broadly to the experience of energy as it moves through space and is subjected to numerous collisions.
The nature of the energy and its interactions are too diverse to enumerate and may be creative, tremendously destructive, devastatingly beautiful, or completely unremarkable. The nature of energy and interactions influence, on every level, how an individual experiences the world.
This expanded definition of reflection is an important analogue to the great diversity of ways people experience the outdoors, as well as a reminder of the disparity and paucity of avenues and methods of access we employ as outdoor experience providers to convey our appreciation of the natural world to all audiences.
WG: Chris, many people believe that “accessibility is expensive.” That argument is ableist, in my view. What are your recommendations for nature centers like Waterman, as well as greenways, parks, and other spaces, to enhance inclusion and accessibility? I know there are certainly organizations that “specialize” in accessible nature experiences, but what about the “community-based nature centers that fill the many gaps in between,” as you have described the current context?
CA: [Receives a ping text message from his family germane to this conversation as one of the children reflects on their “me-ness.”] You know, this is something that we’ve discussed in various venues, both in discussions about the development of the Waterman Center, specifically, and in the greater context of outdoor areas. I don’t want to pretend like I have this figured out. I agree wholeheartedly that accessibility shouldn’t be viewed as expensive. I think accessibility is an investment. I think it is an affirmation of the human need to experience nature, but the mechanism of achieving a more wholly, accessible experience can take various forms, and I think it starts with capacity building, attitudes, and knowledge.
I’ve been thinking about the accessible birding course one of our team members will be joining.
WG: Can I say something about that?
CA: [nods] Yes
WG: Yeah, so, one of the things I was thinking about was when I went on one of my first Waterman birding walks or hikes. While the hike itself was variable in its accessibility (depending on the different embodiments people have), the experience of focusing on the auditory aspects and not just the visual aspects of birding was something I found very meaningful and powerful in the ways the person leading that hike approached what we were doing.
I was also thinking about how we continuously discuss accessibility in various forms as an organization. We talk about ramps, digital accessibility, image descriptions, and so many other ways to include people in the conveyance of information and the sharing of our stewarded spaces and resources.
When I think about the children and adults who seek participation and engagement with us, the birding example remains a powerful one. So what about children and adults who might visit the Center, who may seek to have a kinesthetic or tactile experience of birding, like we had happen during one of the recent raptor shows? Someone can feel a skeleton, touch a taxidermied owl’s feathers (since it would not be ethical to touch a live specimen’s feathers). They have a sensory relationship with the world that is not solely visual or auditory.
CA: It’s all inextricably holistic. What an interesting combination of words there. Thinking back to the raptor show, and not specifically just the one that happened this past fall, it can be as much a tactile experience as an auditory one. There’s this almost infrasonic aspect of it that you feel in your chest.
WG: Can you explain what infrasonic means for people who might be unfamiliar with this word?
CA: It’s this low frequency energy form that most often is associated with sound.
WG: So maybe a Deaf person could feel it as a vibration?
CA: I would imagine so. It’s also a way we know elephants communicate. This deep rumbling that as much as it’s transmitted through air, it’s transmitted through the ground. And there are human individuals who are more sensitive to that than others. I would be interested to “hear” more about what that experience might be like for different Deaf people.
WG: I am thinking about the parts of the conversation we’ve been having of using examples from the natural world to address and describe accessibility.
CA: Yeah, exactly. Circling back to the birding example…
WG: [laughs] Circling back to birding, huh?
CA: We cruise on a thermal back to birding. Being that when you’re making observations whilst birding, that is a multisensory experience. And I find that very illustrative and can be universal to facilitating nature experiences in other avenues.
WG: The tortoise, Ted, is in the background. As we listen to Ted, the African Spurred Tortoise.
CA: Chomping his bedding and perhaps he should be chomping through his hay.
WG: Is he still eating timothy?
CA: Yes he is.
WG: One of the things that I find cool about talking about all of this right now with you is that when I arrived you were telling me about your appreciation for and enjoyment of Ted’s hanging out under the heat lamps and how he put himself in a spot where he had, at that moment, the maximum heat he seemed to prefer. That again is an example of a sensory expression that doesn’t require only one way of accessing meaning. That the temperature of the animal and their preference of their context is about a kind of sensory experience that we could learn from. I don’t want to romanticize the tortoise—although we all know that I love him, and I think he knows that, too. Ted, turning 25 this coming March. I think he, like so many other animals, isn’t just here to teach us, but he does anyway.
CA: Well yeah, exactly. I think it speaks to the heart of the Waterman Center’s mission, in that our job is to facilitate individuals putting themselves in the place they need to be. So, finding the place where the heat lamps are lined up the way we might want. Most of all, finding the alignment of whatever factor, in that moment.
WG: Might be ice, might not be heat.
CA: Exactly. Might be a breeze. I was thinking about how it could be the sensation of water moving over a stone, right? That’s oftentimes what I seek when I go outside and I want to find peace.
WG: You want to experience the feeling of what it would be like to be the water or the stone or both?
CA: Yes. It’s just that that’s one of the natural experiences that is important to me and it’s every facet of it.
WG: So you are describing the multisensory experience of mindfulness in nature. And one that is also unique to you.
CA: A common approach to outdoor accessibility is to build ramps. And while that’s necessary, it is not enough. I believe collectively a conversation surrounding outdoor accessibility must continue. I invite further comments, reflections, and suggestions.
WG: Thank you for this wonderful conversation, Chris.
CA: You are welcome, Diane. Thank you for having it with me.
Note from Diane at Wordgathering: Please feel free to reach out directly to Chris at director@watermancenter.org.
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About Chris Audette
The Waterman Conservation Education Center’s Executive Director, Chris Audette, holds a BS in Biology from Paul Smith’s College and an AAS in Fisheries and Wildlife Technology. The following bio is quoted directly from the Waterman website: “For as long as I can remember, I have become gleefully knee-deep in marsh, muck, lake, or stream on a regular basis. My career is characterized by advocating for, managing, studying, and appreciating forests and waterways from the Adirondack Mountains to the foothills of the Great Rift Valley. In the United States, Malawi, and Zambia, I have firsthand experience with the universally critical role that conservation and wise natural resource management play in local economies, recreation, tourism, and environmental health. As the Waterman Center’s Executive Director, I strive to develop and maintain connections to community groups, local foundations, and others to build the center’s programming, improve exhibits and facilities, and expand our impact. You might find me embroiled in essential tasks like crafting grant proposals or even scrubbing floors on any given day.”
About Diane R. Wiener
Diane R. Wiener (she/they) became Editor-in-Chief of Wordgathering in January 2020. The author of The Golem Verses (Nine Mile Press, 2018), Flashes & Specks (Finishing Line Press, 2021), and The Golem Returns (swallow::tale press, 2022), Diane’s poems also appear in Nine Mile Magazine, Wordgathering, Tammy, Queerly, The South Carolina Review, Welcome to the Resistance: Poetry as Protest, Diagrams Sketched on the Wind, Jason’s Connection, the Kalonopia Collective’s 2021 Disability Pride Anthology, eMerge, and elsewhere. Diane’s creative nonfiction appears in Stone Canoe, Mollyhouse, The Abstract Elephant Magazine, Pop the Culture Pill, and eMerge. Her flash fiction appears in Ordinary Madness; short fiction is published in A Coup of Owls. Diane served as Nine Mile Literary Magazine’s Assistant Editor after being Guest Editor for the Fall 2019 Special Double Issue on Neurodivergent, Disability, Deaf, Mad, and Crip poetics. She has published widely on Disability, education, accessibility, equity, and empowerment, among other subjects. A proud Neuroqueer, Mad, Crip, Genderqueer, Ashkenazi Jewish Hylozoist Nerd, Diane is honored to serve in the nonprofit sector. You can visit Diane online at: https://dianerwiener.com. Diane is honored and delighted to serve as a member of the Waterman Conservation Education Center’s Board of Directors.