It was not the chimpanzees who attracted my daughter to Jane Goodall. It was the chickens.
It is an apparently small biographical detail compared to the international distinctions granted to the venerated primatologist: when she was 4 years old, the young Dr Goodall was accused of collecting eggs on his grandmother’s farm.
Later, she told interviewers that it was this task that had caused the kind of wonder and curiosity that had shaped her career. Where does this egg come from? Could she wait long enough to find out? Why did certain hens flicked and beaten for fear when it approached, and if it was very motionless, would they become more comfortable?
Why we wrote this
The world remembering Jane Goodall, I asked my daughter again why she was so interested in the primatologist. The answer: Dr. Goodall “achieved something true that no one else has recognized”.
When my Lydia was the same age, she was also in charge of collecting eggs. She would leave with her slightly older sister, Madeline, in their flying dresses and muders, through the pink floor of our accidental chicken family. We had adopted a collection of abandoned roosters who were walking somehow on our property, and the hens that I argued with a neighboring farmer to keep them company. My daughters learned what made chickens to peck, what made them click, which wanted hugs (very little), and who seemed happy to spend time with us (a lot).
Dr. Goodall had also Rusty, his dog, and wrote what he taught him about other species and their capacity for intelligence, communication and love.
Our puppies were Karoo and Skye.
Neither Dr. Goodall nor my daughters wondered if these beings had personalities or did not feel emotion.
I was not surprised when, as a fifth year student, Lydia chose Dr. Goodall for the subject of her “biography project”. She spent weeks surrounded by a bunch of library books, sticky notes everywhere, furiously taking notes and sometimes moaning how he devil could get all this information in a tight story. (She also observed her mother.)
But the first sentence of his first paragraph continued to cause frustration.
“Jane Goodall has observed things else has seen,” she wrote.
The teacher student – who had sort of found himself in charge of edition of a dozen 10 years – returned to sweet criticism. What were the scientific conclusions of Dr Goodall? She asked. Could Lydia give examples? My fifth year daughter did her best, but the second project was just as vague. As a resident expert, I tried to help.
I write on the environment, a pace that often includes studies on animals and other scientific results. There are revealing research documenting ways that other species solve problems, show empathy and decipher puzzles – a growing area largely influenced by Dr. Goodall. Not long ago, I wrote a story of coverage for the monitor’s magazine on moral questions posed by our growing understanding of animal consciousness, as well as persistent questions about how to measure the experience of beings with totally different sensory systems.
Surely, I suggested to my daughter, she could mention certain studies, certain research, certain facts that Dr. Goodall introduced into the world.
Lydia sighed.
It was two years ago. This week, with the news of Dr. Goodall’s death, I asked my daughter again about this project. Did she remember why she was so taken by Dr. Goodall? I asked.
“She did something true that no one else recognized,” replied the most articulated in the seventh year. “She knew that the animals were complex, that they had feelings, emotions. And she was ready to fight for this truth. ”
What she was trying to explain in this previous essay, she said, is that Dr. Goodall saw the truth that the “experts” around her could not-or would not recognize him.
It was clear when the chimpanzees were sad when they were satisfied when they were angry, the scientist wrote. It was clear that they deserved names. And that resonated with my daughter. After all, she had seen this truth in her own courtyard.
Later in life, Dr. Goodall spoke with interviewers of the way humans can get lost when we idolize the intellect above all. The heart, she said, is just as important. Our intellect can lead us to incredible directions. But the greatest strength is love.
In 1991, Dr. Goodall founded Roots & Shoots, an environmental network that gave young people the tools to identify and work to resolve the challenges they see in their own communities. Today, my two daughters say they want to start a chapter in their school. They are inspired by Dr. Goodall. Not for its prices, neither documentaries, nor even his beautiful conferences and books and influence on the way we practice science.
They are motivated by her because she showed the power to climb the trees and take care of chickens and loving dogs; She has shown how confident love can promote creativity to help the world.
