World of Wonders

World of Wonders

If you want a scapegoat, blame seventh grade science. 

It was the rainforest unit, really. Of course, you could blame the NSS butterfly guide as well. It’s equally responsible. 

Or Project Noah. 

Or the camera I got for my tenth birthday.

Or the fact that the condominium I live in is stuffed to bursting with nature.

And you could go on and on like that. The world is filled with goats, scape and sheep alike. 

I would blame wonder, though. I would blame discovery. I would blame a teenager finding a world full of grey had some green hiding in it, and that in that green was hiding red and yellow and blue and all the colors of nature.

I would blame realising the importance of biodiversity. Of what we have to protect. To document.

And, ultimately, save from our own foolishness. 

So, whoever you choose to blame, the end-product is an amateur wildlife photographer, birder, butterflyer (what else should I call it? butterfly-watcher doesn’t roll off the tongue), conservationist, and most importantly, explorer. Basically, me. 

You can find me somewhere up a tree the majority of the time. Otherwise, searching my Project Noah account or for someone gesticulating wildly about white-bellied sea eagles to another person looking around wildly for the quickest escape routes could produce similar results. 

In the end, the only thing left to blame is me. 

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