OUTDOORS: Letting nature take its course can be painful

The heron sits hunkered down in the yellow-brown vegetation, almost hidden from my view. Ice has formed all around the little cattail oasis, and snow hangs from the nearby tree limbs.

The water at its feet remains open only because a small stream keeps enough current flowing to prevent a total freeze up. The heron does not look happy.

Each year there seems to be some critter or another that didn't quite hear the internal call to flee winter. Maybe they're stupid, maybe they're sick, maybe they're injured, or maybe they just like to live on the edge. Range extensions happen when enough individuals decide to change 'normal behaviour.'

Whatever the reason, the heron before me looked less than vibrant, and although constantly hunting for minnows, its actions have daily become less fluid and more rigid.

Over the past couple of weeks it has been a daily ritual to check on this bird, to watch it snatch frogs and small fish from within the wetland plants. But it's winter now, and the bird's still here.

Now comes the inner dilemma of 'what to do.' Should I buy minnows at the bait shop and release them near the heron? Should I call a wildlife rehabilitation centre and see if they'll send a crew to net the bird and care for it all winter? Should I try to knock it on the head and end its misery? Should I walk away and let nature take its course with 'only the strongest survive'?

The answer, of course, is obvious. However, is my answer going to be the same as your answer? Probably not. Because we are all capable of our own thoughts, and as we have all been raised with different values as to what's right and what's not so right, we often come up with differing solutions to a given problem.

Sometimes this diversity in thinking is a good thing, and sometimes it leads to war. When it comes to nature, and particularly when it comes to deciding the fate of a living creature, we people do indeed have a list of options to choose from.

One way of valuing nature is called “utilitarian justification.” Big words, but with a straight forward meaning: "I value nature because I utilize it." This is most often seen amongst those people who are involved with the lumber industry, the fisheries, or live off the land (such as many Canadians do in the high North).

Because nature is important in their lives as either an economical benefit or a survival method, decisions will be made to ensure the environment continues to be there, to be used.

But not everyone thinks that way. Some others may justify their interests in nature from an ecological point of view. "We are part of the web of life," is their mantra, and it's true. Every living thing is connected, somehow and in some way, to every other living (and non-living) thing. Nature must be protected because we are a part of nature.

But again, not everyone agrees on or buys into the web of life theory.

A third justification we humans use to care about nature is that we the superior species on this planet, and we have the moral obligation to care for all the creatures under our control.

Beaver can't set up rehab centres for orphaned bear cubs, and foxes don't set aside 'X' number of rabbits each year in case of famine in the following year. "We are the brightest species on Earth, and we have to care for all that has been given to us. Period."

Uh-huh. Some of you still shaking your head? How about a fourth option for justifying your interest in nature?

What's it worth to you to sit by a marsh at sunset and watch a flock of ducks fly by, wheel around and land on the placid waters? How much would you pay to visit the last, the very last, forest where pine trees scent the air and birds flit around in search in insects? This is called aesthetic justification of nature. "It's pretty, it makes me feel good, I will protect it."

And, of course, there are the masses who simply don't give a damn, just so long as they have their good food, fast cars and electronic gadgets. This story is not about them.

This story is about a heron who is slowing dying in the cold as it huddles against the wind. I know what I'm going to do about it, and it won't be a decision shared by all of you.

There is a family of otters who live along this stretch of shoreline; they will probably enjoy an easy meal within the week. They will survive, thanks to a heron that tried to live on the edge, and failed.