Finding patches of wilderness in the city

An aerial view tells the whole story. From the concrete desert of urban rooftops that constitutes the nation's largest county, an oasis of lush hills leaps out in dramatic contrast.

Red-tailed hawks swirl from above, while snakes slink and gophers tunnel below. Streams gurgle and ponds reflect the sky. Enjoying all 300 acres with whoops of delight are inner-city children of all ages, many of whom have never seen a beach, camped in the woods, or skipped along a mountaintop.

Many of their parents once hunted and fished in the wilds of Mexico or Central America but - for reasons of personal safety and survival - now live a life of self-imposed urban exile in their chosen city of emigration.

The National Audubon Society, famous for its preserves far into the wilderness, is reversing a 100-year-old tradition with a plan to open patches of wilderness like this in urban communities. In addition to this preserve just northeast of downtown Los Angeles skyscrapers - and soon-to-be opened parks in Seattle, Philadelphia, and Little Rock, Ark. - the conservation group plans to create 1,000 such oases by 2020.

The idea behind it is twofold. One is to recognize the long-changed demographic shift of Americans from rural to urban areas. The other is to preserve a unique sense of place and build an ethos of stewardship among the urban poor at an early age. "How can we expect this country's coming generations to care about a Yellowstone, or Arctic refuge, or rain forests if they can't connect to something natural in the world where they are?" asks John Flicker, president of the National Audubon Society.

On any given day here at Ernest E. Debs Park, a little-known refuge along a highway corridor between downtown Los Angeles and Pasadena, it's easy to see the rationale behind the move. Schoolchildren skip down a path from the park's high hill, which provides both a view of the surrounding city and vistas of meadows, ponds, and trees. The obvious question, "Whaddya like most about a park like this?" brings a concatenation of responses: "Frogs!" says a girl in pigtails and bobby socks. "Snakes!" says a boy with Harry Potter glasses and knickers. "Climbing!" says another girl.

State Audubon officials began looking for a site about five years ago and with the help of local activists found the city-owned Debs Park, a rustic, 282-acre site full of black walnut trees and unusual birds like the Nuttall's Woodpecker. City councilmen, members of Congress, and corporate sponsors helped seal the deal.

Besides local schoolchildren - some 50,000 live within a two-mile radius - Audubon is also trying to entice families, from grandparents to tots. It is creating exhibits with audio clips that will help visitors identify birds and animals by their calls. Organizers offer backpacks that contain journals, scavenger-hunt lists, and watercolor paints.

Page: 1 | 2