Homo sapiens is but one of more than one million animal species on Earth, and we humans -- according to Darwin or Genesis -- are the newcomers here.
Despite our late arrival, we have overrun the globe in a relatively brief time -- altering the landscape, consuming resources and disrupting the balance of life as we go. Because our behavior too has often been arrogant, shortsighted and brutish, we have eliminated some animal species while pushing many others to the brink of extinction.
As this millennium draws to a close, however, our thoughts are shifting. Witness the protection of spotted owl and snail darter habitats, the return of wolves to Yellowstone and the laws that regulate commercial fishing. We have realized that even our race is severely diminished by the loss of wildlife.
Science has nudged our conscience. We know now the dire effects of upsetting the balance of ecosystems, of tearing the fragile web of life. And studies into animal intelligence and wildlife communication, group behavior and human physiology have prompted a whole new awareness of "lower" life forms. We are consequently more sensitive to the plight of whales and seals, laboratory specimens and fur-bearing animals, those we raise as food and those we hunt for sport.
Science also has enhanced our appreciation of these creatures. While most aboriginal people have respected the ways of the beasts around them, we had largely dismissed the value of animals -- often attributing their skills to "instinct," disparaging their talents and strengths.
But today -- watching the animal shows on TV or seeing wildlife photography in magazines -- we marvel at their nature, their speed and senses, their elaborate mating rituals, their ability to withstand cold, to fly unerringly thousands of miles, to hunt, to converse, to establish hierarchies, to construct nests, to mate for life. The more we learn of animals, the deeper grows our sense of wonder -- for their genius, beauty and cunning, their persistence and patience, their adaptability and ingenuity, their elegance and physical prowess.
Of course, it is not as if we had lost touch altogether. Our backyards have been enlivened by birds, our homes by a menagerie of pets -- cats and dogs, goldfish, rabbits, hamsters and parrots. There have been farms and zoos, fishermen and equestrians, children snagging turtles and toads, grown-ups feeding pigeons and squirrels. And from Black Beauty to Moby Dick, from Winnie-the-Pooh to Watership Down to Mighty Mouse, animals have inhabited our literature, our movies, our folklore, the heavens, the human imagination. They have been metaphor and monster, symbolic and sacred, cuddly and ferocious.
Still, as we understand better their value and their gifts -- and how inextricably our lives are intertwined with theirs -- we are called to renegotiate our relationships with them. It is time the newcomer became a better, wiser neighbor.
Those indigenous to this continent understood well the interrelatedness of all life. The two-leggeds and four-leggeds and the wings of the air, they said, all come from one mother, one father. Animals, they believed, could possess special powers, could come as teachers, as messengers, as reflections in material form of divine principles.
"Mitakuyasin!" the Lakota would exclaim in prayer and wonderment. "All my relations!"
As this millennium comes to an end, we more fully understand what others knew all along: Our well-being -- physically and spiritually -- depends upon the health of all life, and a balance must be found for the mutual benefit of all God's creatures. Recognizing the intrinsic value of each traveler aboard the ark we call Earth is fundamental to our prosperity.