Sze Wing Yu

For a long time during this internship I did not feel like I was doing service. Sure, it had the name “AmeriCorps” attached, but what is this Teton Science Schools organization and how did it fit in with conservation? How could it connect to the larger world if it is based out of a little canyon off a Wyoming highway?

I had done service before. I had been an intern at a National Wildlife Refuge, part of a federal system of lands and waters designated as conserved wildlife habitat. There, as I assisted with wildlife surveys and management, I had felt a belonging to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and a calling to adhere to its mission of “working with others to conserve, protect, and enhance fish, wildlife, plants, and their habitats for the continuing benefit of the American people”. Later, I had worked with the U.S. Forest Service, where I had the same feeling “to meet the needs of present and future generations.” In my mind, a non-profit organization like TSS did not compare to the legacy, works, and beliefs of these national agencies that I had come to know, identify with, and respect.

North of our little canyon is Grand Teton National Park, another great legacy that seemed to dwarf TSS. There, I spent an April sunrise with two of my fellow AC. We had joined a group of visitors near a Greater Sage-Grouse lek to view their courtship rituals, where male grouse had to perform elaborate displays to attract female mates.

What an incredible sight! Far off in the distance were the grouse. The males looked odd enough as is – a tail of spiky feathers reminded one of an Aloe vera or fan palm leaf, except that it was stuck to the hind end of a chubby, small-headed bird. This bird, with dainty eyelash-like feathers flowing off the head, swiped its gray-brown wings over its stiff breast feathers like a washboard with a ziiiiiip!, and expanded and deflated two yellow air sacs on the breast with a satisfying pop! The collective of males, around 27 total, created a soundscape of zips and pops and pews, reminiscent of popping bubbles, while the females laid low in the sage and judged their courtship displays.

After my fill of watching their displays – the oddest I have seen so far in the animal kingdom – I turned my back to the grouse and the Tetons and faced the rising sun. My body had become stiff from the cold and I welcomed the sun’s rays on my face. Everything they touched became bathed in a warm golden hue, and my view was of the glowing sagebrush steppe, surrounded by the songs of Western Meadowlarks and zip pop pew choir of the grouse. Around me, I am aware of the presence of Short-eared Owls, ravens, Northern Harriers, and elk, each aware of me and possibly delighting in the sunshine as well.

And I wondered, What would my family think of this? To my knowledge none of them had visited a landscape like this, where sage spanned farther than the eye could see, especially not the relatives I had not seen since over a decade ago, living half a world away. What would this make them feel? A sense of wonder at the abundance and diversity of wildlife? Shock at the amount of land uninhabited by people and the clarity of the Teton view? Fear of the cold or potential wolves nearby? Or pure bliss of being present in such a glorious place?

But this place was more than the present. It was Grand Teton National Park, part of the National Park Service and its mission of preserving “unimpaired the natural and cultural resources and values… for the enjoyment, education, and inspiration of this and future generations.” The beauty of this place was not only in what we see, hear, smell, taste, and feel today, but also in its protected existence for all people to enjoy.

I had not discovered the natural and historical beauties of our national lands until I began studying and working in them in college and beyond, so it was my education and experiences that brought me closer to nature and the American legacy of conservation. How could I explain to my relatives, far removed from my culture and experiences, the value of this wild place and its inhabitants? And, what experiences were they having that they wished I was a part of, and what did they wonder about me?

As I pondered these questions later, I again wondered about my role as an AC at TSS. I thought about how, in the past few weeks, I had finally had a successful break in my teaching. I finally felt less like I was floundering around in an unknown organization, learning its rules and protocols, and more like an educator who connects with her students and helps them connect to nature. I watched students delight in studying macroinvertebrates and take tracking enthusiastically in the field after learning it with me. What a joy it was for me to see them learn and engage with nature, and how fortunate it was for us to share the experience together.

And so, back on campus in that little canyon off the highway, I reflected on my work at TSS. Perhaps my current internship did not evoke the same feeling of patriotism or legacy as my positions with the USFWS or USFS did. Yet, was it not service that I was doing through teaching the next generations about our natural world and stewardship? It was the education I received – a necessity and privilege – that helped me value the natural world, and now it was my turn to give back by teaching. Sure, the last “S” in Teton Science Schools isn’t “Service”, but I am learning to use and improve my talents and experiences to connect children with the natural world… So that they may leave with a sense of wonder and respect for this wild place, as the sage grouse had given me.

Click here to learn more about the Greater Sage-Grouse.