Legacy in the Wild

“When we learn to speak with the animals, to listen with animal ears and to see through animal eyes, we experience the phenomena, the power and the potential of the human essence. Animals become our teachers, our friends. They show us the true majesty of life itself. They restore our forgotten childlike wonder of the world.” Ted Andrews- Animal-Speak: The Spiritual and Magical Powers of Creatures Great and Small

The hum of Highway 1 fades behind us as we step onto the trail—me, Kirkland, our grandchildren, and a circle of kindred spirits—walking together to learn about this sacred protected land: weelili onyenmak. In the language of the Amah Mutsun, indigenous people of this land, the name means “salamander relatives.”

It’s quiet here, peaceful. And ancient.

The endangered Santa Cruz long-toed salamander was first discovered in a pond at Valencia Lagoon in Aptos in 1954. Since then, roads and highways have carved up its fragile habitat. Now, seventy years later, this rare creature—Ambystoma maculatum croceum—survives only in fragmented pockets, protected by the tireless work of conservationists from the Land Trust of Santa Cruz County. https://landtrustsantacruz.org/ Preserving these lands helps reconnect critical habitat, restore balance, and protect oak woodlands and other threatened wildlife that depend on these ecosystems to survive.

As we hike, my seven-year-old grandson, Callen, kneels down and carefully picks up what remains of a dried lizard. He cradles it gently in his small hand, his face full of curiosity.

“Is this a dead salamander?” he asks, eyes wide.

“No, sweetheart, it’s a lizard,” I answer.
“Will we see salamanders today?”
“Good question, Cal. Let’s ask Cameron.”

Cameron, one of the guides from the Land Trust of Santa Cruz County’s Wild Walks, smiles and explains that salamanders only come out at night, during the rainy season when the pond fills with water. Today, in the warmth of summer, they remain hidden—resting, waiting for the rains.

We are here because we are legacy circle donors—but more than that, I am here for them, walking beside me: the next generation. These moments are how I pass on the passion and purpose of protecting this land. I want them to know, not just in their minds but in their hearts, why we protect wildlife. Why it matters. And how, by spending time in nature, we begin to understand what the Mutsun people know deeply: that all living beings are our relatives—and we are bound by a sacred responsibility to care for them.

Fifty years ago, I found refuge in Santa Cruz, California—leaving behind the city life in Atlanta, Georgia.

I remember my youth dancing barefoot on the beach to the rhythm of waves, my body becoming part of the shoreline. Stargazing from meadows nestled in the arms of redwood forests, my artist friends and I let ourselves be awed with wonder and potential.. Those days shaped us, called us toward the people we would become. That’s what I want for my grandchildren—not just memories, but meaning.

My eight-year-old granddaughter, Brielle, walks with the group, a feather bouquet tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. She’d found the hawk feathers earlier on the trail and turned to me with delight.

“Look, Gigi! A gift from nature.”

In the distance, we hear the low hoot of an owl echoing through the valley. A family of deer peers out from a hillside clearing. We whisper.

I tell them, “We use soft voices in nature, so we don’t scare the animals.”

In a world that can feel heavy, disconnected, even hopeless, today we listen with animal ears, we restore childlike wonder. Today we walk together.

Merging back onto the busy freeway, joyful giggles emanate from the back seat. I know why. I too feel giggles bubbling inside of me being loved by and loving nature.

Moments. Meaning. Magic.   

Intention: Be filled with the gifts of nature. Preserve, protect, engage with the environment.