The
Finders
LAST
YEAR, the slender-billed curlew was declared
extinct — the first documented extinction of a
bird species (Numenius tenuirostris)
whose range extended from mainland Europe to
North Africa and West Asia. So too the Orkney
charr (Salvelinus inframundus), the
Taiwanese swallowtail butterfly (Papilio
machaon sylvina), and a host of other plants
and animals. Their fate is an indicator of a
grim future for biodiversity. In fact, according
to the International Union for Conservation of
Nature, more than 47,000 species currently face
the threat of extinction, including a quarter of
all mammals and freshwater fish, a third of tree
species, four in ten amphibian species, and
nearly half of all reef-building corals.
But
beyond that parade of horribles, that litany of
gloom and doom, is a bit of good news: the
continuing discovery of previously unknown
species by dedicated researchers who love the
living world. These discoveries are often made
by nature-loving obsessives, whose dedication,
patience, and persistence can be hard to
understand. I call them Finders.
“When
we look at scientists, they have this intrinsic
passion or curiosity for a particular subject,
and it was not crushed out of them,” clinical
psychologist Edward Hoffman, an adjunct faculty
member at Yeshiva University and my longtime
friend, told me when I asked him what drives
Finders. That passion “was nurtured and
encouraged by parents and teachers and mentors,”
explained Hoffman, who is a leading researcher
in positive psychology. “We know people who are
highly creative in the sciences tend to be
optimistic; they tend to enjoy challenges and
solving problems. They tend to have a need for
novelty. They get bored quickly if this passion
is not fed in their lives.”
How
long can that depth of passion, that excitement,
that thrill of the quest last?
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