Finding patches of wilderness in the city

Instead of lecturing visitors about the wealth of natural beauty, or leading them around nature trails with signs identifying flowers and trees, officials want to let people discover what excites them on their own. "We find that when we prompt them with tools to ask their own questions and follow their own interests, people are far more inquisitive and appreciative," says naturalist Jeff Chapman.

The approach reflects another philosophical change surfacing in the environmental movement - "biophilia." Instead of being "educated" about ecology, the theory goes, people should be allowed to respond emotionally to it, which will foster a desire for preservation. "One thing we're finding is the deep value of being outside in nature with no agenda except rich contact with the world through smell, touch, sight, and sound," says John Harris of the Monadnock Institute of Nature, Place and Culture at Franklin Pierce College in Rindge, N.H. "Nature provides a different kind of balance to the stimulation of being inside with movies, TV, and video games."

It also provides a sense of community particular to this section of Los Angeles. "This place is grounded in the cultural and ethical history of this site and the cultures that have been here through the ages," says Doug Campbell, designer of the Debs Park Center. "The architecture borrows from traditional Spanish and Mexican cultures but also ancient principles of orientation to the sun, wind, and topography."

Still, moving into neighborhoods like this one near East Los Angeles, which has a large Hispanic population, isn't easy. Local conservationists have to overcome language barriers just to explain that Audubon isn't a German freeway.

"This organization is having to reach out beyond our own cultural comfort level and build new alliances with ethnic communities," says Melanie Ingalls of California Audubon.

Yet the new experiment seems to be garnering adherents, as evidenced by nearly 2,000 entrants a week. Under an aluminum sky on a recent Saturday, area resident Rich Nambu and friends scurry down a path with Nambu's three daughters. "I grew up in Palos Verdes, where we could always hunt frogs and fish," says Mr. Nambu. "But since we moved into this neighborhood [Alhambra], I was afraid that my own family would never have the same experience. Until now."

Park director Elsa Lopez, a former activist with Mothers of East Los Angeles, grew up in the nearby high crime area of Boyle Heights. She came to the park as a child while her richer friends went to the beach or Catalina Island. "The only river these kids know is a concrete river, so when they see rocks and fishes and streams they are overjoyed," she says. "Some kids say their only backyard is another apartment building and that this will be their new place to experience a natural world they've never known."

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