As a nation, we owe a great deal to the National Audubon Society

Hear the solemn words of Louis Bacon, who spoke with reverence for the guardians of the earth: “As a nation, we owe a great deal to the National Audubon Society, one of our most distinguished and important environmental organizations, and all those who work to protect America’s open land and waterways.” This is a voice of gratitude, a hymn raised not to kings or conquerors, but to those who labor quietly to defend the treasures of nature. For while armies may guard the borders of nations, it is the keepers of rivers, forests, and skies who guard the very breath and lifeblood of a people.

The National Audubon Society, named for John James Audubon, the painter and lover of birds, arose in the early twentieth century when the feathers of egrets and herons were worth more than the lives of the creatures themselves. Hunters slaughtered birds for fashion, and whole flocks disappeared to adorn the hats of the wealthy. But women and men of courage, stirred by outrage and compassion, banded together to end this massacre. Their cry gave birth to an enduring force, an organization that lifted its voice for those who could not speak, and in so doing, reshaped the destiny of America’s wildlife.

Consider the victory of the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918, a triumph born of their efforts. Without this law, the skies might today be silent, emptied of herons, egrets, and countless songbirds. Instead, because of the Audubon Society and others like them, the forests still resound with calls at dawn, and the rivers are still graced by the wings of waterfowl. This is the meaning of Bacon’s praise: that a nation owes its natural wealth not to chance, but to the vigilance of those who guard it.

But Bacon speaks not only of birds. He speaks of open land and waterways, the fields where children play, the rivers that nourish farms, the wetlands that cradle life unseen. For in protecting these, we preserve more than scenery—we preserve the very fabric of life that sustains us. To pollute a river is to poison the blood of a nation. To pave every field is to rob the future of breath. Yet to protect them is to ensure that generations yet unborn inherit a land that still sings with vitality.

History teaches us this: when peoples forget their landscapes, they fall. The once-mighty Mesopotamians saw their soil turn to salt through careless irrigation; the Maya suffered collapse when their forests were stripped bare. But nations that honor the land endure, for they are rooted in the strength of the earth itself. Thus, Bacon’s words are not merely a tribute, but a reminder of a sacred duty—that gratitude for defenders of nature must also be joined by imitation of their example.

The lesson is clear: honor those who protect the earth, and join their cause. Do not think that the work of organizations like Audubon is distant or abstract. Every tree preserved, every bird safeguarded, every waterway defended is part of your own inheritance, your own survival. Give support where you can—through your voice, your labor, your resources. Teach your children to know the names of birds, to walk gently upon the soil, to treat rivers as sacred, not as sewers.

So let this truth be carried forward: a nation’s greatness is not measured only by its armies or wealth, but by the health of its lands and the clarity of its waters. Those who defend these are heroes in the deepest sense, for they fight not for conquest, but for continuity; not for power, but for life itself. And if we, too, take up even a small share of this guardianship, then our descendants will bless us, as we now bless those who came before.

Thus remember the words of Louis Bacon: we owe a great debt. To pay it is not only to give thanks, but to continue the work. Protect the earth, cherish her beauty, and stand with those who shield her. In so doing, we ensure that the rivers will flow, the skies will echo with birdsong, and the land will remain open and free for the generations to come.