I was alone in .
At least, that’s how it felt.
Driving into the 7,900-acre nature and wildlife preserve in Ozark County last week, the conservation agent passed me going the other way in his truck.
He waved. Everybody in Ozark County waves.
For two hours I hiked along Caney Creek, past Leopold Cabin, up near High Rock and never saw a soul. I was overcome not with loneliness but a feeling of community, the thought that everybody in Missouri, every taxpayer, every conservation advocate, everybody who saw something here worth preserving, created this moment of solitude and peacefulness, just for me.
To some degree, they did.
In 1937, Missouri voters created in the country. After the Missouri Legislature had failed for decades to listen to sportsmen and do something to protect fish and wildlife for the next generation, environmentalists and hunters got together and took matters into their own hands.
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At the time, Missouri’s once — and now again — vibrant wild turkey population had dwindled to next to nothing. In 1940, Starker Leopold, the son of famed conservationist Aldo Leopold, . Working with the new independent conservation department — which was to be driven by science instead of politics — Leopold nurtured a dozen or so wild turkeys in the now preserved area into enough of a population to once again, decades later, allow wild turkey hunting in the state.
I’ve never hunted a wild turkey in my life — though I’ve enjoyed some harvested by my wife’s family. The Morrisons have deep roots in this area, some of them having lived on the land in and around Caney Mountain. They are farmers and hunters. When they get together for family reunions, I’m often the odd man out. I don’t hunt and have never owned a John Deere tractor. Conversations are short.
On my hike, I felt a new family bond.
Upon returning to my car and regaining cellphone use, I looked up the nature preserve’s history, and came across this quote from Aldo Leopold, known as the father of modern conservation.
“Conservation, at bottom, rests on the conviction that there are things in this world more important than dollar signs and ciphers. Many of these other things attach to the land, and to the life that is on it and in it,†he said at a gathering in 1947, according to the Department of Conservation website.
“People who know these other things have been growing scarcer, but less so in Missouri than elsewhere. That is why conservation is possible here. If conservation can become a living reality, it can do so in Missouri. This is because Missourians, in my opinion, are not completely industrialized in mind and spirit, and I hope never will be.â€
Leopold, I suspect, would be disappointed in Missourians these days.
The Legislature is often at war with the Department of Conservation, seeking to limit the independence that was so important to its founding. A state that created a dedicated tax to help preserve Missouri’s rich fish and wildlife resources has become so tax averse that its roads and other infrastructure are crumbling. After Gov. Jay Nixon sought during his two terms to expand parks in the state, particularly by turning to build on the success of the Katy Trail, his efforts were blunted during the brief tenure of Gov. Eric Greitens.
My hike in the woods was intended as a respite from politics, and yet, in taking in the splendor around me that was created out of a political reality decades ago, my thoughts turned to the first 100 days of Gov. Mike Parson’s stewardship of the state.
Parson, like Nixon before him, seems to believe, as Leopold did, that Missouri is best when it does things for the greater good of its future generations. Perhaps it’s because he’s a farmer, and conservation comes naturally. on November’s ballot, because he knows investing in the state’s highways is an absolute necessity. He called a special session to pass an initiative that should improve math and science education in the state and make Missouri’s future workforce more enticing to employers. These are hopeful signs for a state that once was a national leader in thinking big thoughts that put future generations ahead of short-term political gains.
I left Caney Mountain hopeful. A quiet walk alone amid Missouri’s bounty can do that.