Before any of us learned to study nature, someone taught us to notice it. Maybe it was a parent who pointed out migrating birds, a grandparent who knew the names of the trees, a partner who noticed the first spring flowers, or a child who asked the sort of question that we stopped asking.

One of the things I’ve tried to do in these posts is pull back the curtain on how The Nature Record gets made. Most people will encounter the finished report or a key message, but there’s so much that goes into work like this that rarely gets recognized.

There are authors and chapter leads, technical support teams and editors, reviewers, partner organizations, thousands of people who attended events and offered comments, foundations that provided support, colleagues who read drafts and pointed out what we missed. All of them are essential.

But the truth is that our team is larger than the org chart. Because behind every author is someone else. Someone who listened to frustration about a deadline. Someone who accepted that family events might occasionally be interrupted by a work call. Someone who made space for the work. More than making the work possible, they shaped the work itself.

Across this project are spouses, partners, parents, children, and friends. There are artists and gardeners, people of faith and people who find meaning elsewhere, caregivers and volunteers, hunters and birders, teachers and tradespeople, lifelong residents and newcomers, people raising children and people living alone, people whose paths through life have been very different from those of the person whose name appears on the chapter. Their experiences and ways of seeing become part of the work, even if their names never do. None of these influences are formally recognized. Yet they are there. Invisible perhaps, but no less real.

For me, that gratitude begins with my wife, Elizabeth, and not simply because she made room for this work, though she certainly has. She has shaped how I see: my own embrace of awe, and what Abraham Heschel called “radical amazement,” comes largely from her.

Heschel wrote that our goal should be to live life in radical amazement, to resist taking the world for granted and instead approach it with wonder, humility, and gratitude—to recognize that existence itself is extraordinary.

Elizabeth possesses a remarkable capacity for this. She notices beauty that I miss. She approaches nature with curiosity. She delights in the ordinary—the changing colors of the garden, the songs of frogs in spring, the first mushrooms after rain. She reminds me that mystery is not something to be conquered but something to be cherished, and that paying attention requires more than expertise. It requires wonder. I believe that perspective has shaped my work more than many scientific papers I have read because assessments are, at their heart, exercises in paying attention.

I suspect many authors of The Nature Record assessment have received similar gifts from the people they love—gifts that cannot be quantified, values that cannot be footnoted, and ways of seeing that cannot be summarized in a key message.

People often ask about the authors, as they should. Their names deserve to be known. But behind every name is another story. And behind every story are relationships that helped shape not only what we wrote, but how we learned to see.

My hope is that The Nature Record reminds us that knowledge is never built alone. Behind every scientist, writer, and conservationist is someone who first taught them to notice and helped them become more fully themselves.

As you reflect on your own relationship with nature, consider the people who shaped it. Who first taught you about planting seeds? Who showed you tadpoles in a pond? Who helped you develop a sense of wonder in an ordinary walk? Those people may never appear in a report like this, but their influence lives on in every person who carries that way of seeing the world.

Subscribe now

I wrote the piece below while preparing for a recent gathering of The Nature Record’s authors, where we began revising the assessment following review by the National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine and more than 2,200 public comments.

As I prepared my remarks, I found myself thinking about the authors—their rigor, generosity, and commitment to creating something useful for the future. But the more I sat with these words, the more I realized they weren’t only about the authors.

The Nature Record has always been larger than any single group of contributors. Along the way, scientists, conservation practitioners, Tribal leaders, policymakers, educators, journalists, artists, and members of the public have all helped shape this effort. Each has carried their own knowledge, questions, and hopes for what comes next.

So while I wrote this for the authors, I share it with gratitude for everyone traveling this path with us.

The path you traveled
is not the path you imagined.

You thought there would be a road already there,
some obedient ribbon of dirt
leading kindly forward.

You thought there would be signs,
small mercies,
a place to rest exactly when needed.

Instead there was weather in the hinges,
mud in the plans,
a bridge that asked you
to become carpenters mid-crossing.

And so you continued…

But persistence is not the story.

The story
is usefulness.
The story
is offering something true
to a hungry world.

In a time of shouting,
you practiced listening.
In a time of haste,
you practiced care.
In a time of splintering,
you gathered fragments and made them speak to one another.

Your story is rigor.
Your story is excellence.
Which can sound stern
until you remember
it also means love.

Love of the fact.
Love of the question.
Love of the sentence worked and reworked
until it rang clear as a bell in cold air.

Love of the comment
that bruised first,
then taught.
Love of the colleague who said,
wait—look again.

And what have you carried here?

Prairie wind.
Kelp forests swaying in the green dark.
The ache of dry rivers.
The relief of shade trees.
Bird wings over marsh water.

The names of species.
The names of losses.
The names of what returns
after fire,
after flood,
after neglect.

Persistence brought you this far.
But persistence was only the seed coat.

What breaks open now is purpose.
You are offering what the world needs:
knowledge that can guide decisions,
illuminate choices,
and help shape a better future.

A clearer map.
A lantern lifted higher.
A path
brightened
by all your footsteps.

Subscribe now

Summer has arrived in the Pacific Northwest, even if the calendar denies it. The days stretch long into the evening. Gardens are full of promise. The lavender flowers of Phlox subulata are bursting into bloom. Bees move methodically from flower to flower.

But those who spend time close to the land know that this is no longer the season of planting. It is the season of tending.

The seeds are in the ground. Much of the hard work of beginning is behind us. What comes next requires a different kind of attention—patience, stewardship, and the willingness to keep showing up day after day. As I prepare for next week’s All Author Meeting for The Nature Record, I find myself thinking about that distinction.

Every day seems to bring some new milestone. A chapter submitted. A review completed. A new partner joining the effort. A grant proposal sent. A public comment read. When you’re building something of this scale, milestones arrive so frequently that there is a temptation to simply step over them on the way to the next thing. But some days feel more milestone-y than others.

Next week dozens of authors, contributors, and partners will gather. Many of us have worked together for months—some for years—without ever being in the same room. There are people whose work I have read for decades but never met. People whose ideas have shaped my thinking from afar. People I have admired professionally for years and will finally get to shake hands with. There is something remarkable about that.

Science often appears in public as a finished product—a report, a journal article, a figure, a finding. What is less visible is the community behind it. The conversations. The debate. The generosity. The thousands of volunteer hours offered because people believe the work matters.

The Nature Record exists because hundreds of people decided that understanding nature in America—and our relationship with it—was worth their time, expertise, and care. That feels worth celebrating. Not because we are finished. Far from it. In fact, this moment feels a lot like midsummer.

The assessment is no longer a seedling. Three of six drafts are complete. The first season of growth is behind us. More than 2,200 public comments have been received. The National Academies review is in hand. The shape of what we are growing is now visible.

What lies ahead is the work of tending. Over the coming months, authors will work through comments and recommendations. Sentences will be rewritten. Figures redesigned. Arguments sharpened. Evidence revisited. Chapters strengthened.

This is the season that asks for patience. For attentiveness. For care. Growth is never guaranteed. The things we value most require stewardship long after the excitement of creation has passed. They require us to stay present, adapt when needed, and keep showing up. The assessment that emerges from this process will be better because of it.

So next week will be both a celebration and a beginning. A chance to pause and appreciate how far we have come. A chance to thank the people who have carried this effort forward. A chance to remember that large, ambitious projects are ultimately built by individuals choosing, day after day, to contribute their time and talents to something larger than themselves.

And then, after the conversations and reunions and introductions are over, we’ll do what scientists, practitioners, educators, and community leaders always do. We’ll roll up our sleeves and return to the work. Because nature’s story is still being written. And so is ours.

Subscribe now

As the period for commenting on The Nature Record draft assessment comes to a close, I’ve found myself returning to an old teaching1:

“The day is short, the task is great, and the matter is pressing. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.”

Over the past several months, thousands of people from across the country have engaged with The Nature Record. Scientists and Tribal leaders, students and artists, farmers, fishers, educators, health professionals, policymakers, land managers, and community members. Some offered technical comments, while others shared questions, observations, memories, and hopes.

What struck me most was not how much people approached the assessment from differing perspectives. Rather, it was how often they returned to the same fundamental concerns. They care about clean water. They care about healthy forests and working lands. They care about wildlife, parks, shorelines, and the places where they walk, fish, garden, hunt, paddle, and gather. They care about whether future generations will inherit the same opportunities for wonder and connection that many of us received. Repeatedly, people reminded us that nature is not a backdrop to American life — it is woven into it.

The day is short

One theme surfaced repeatedly during our public engagement events: change is happening quickly. People spoke of landscapes transformed within a single generation, of rivers that seem different than they once were, and of summers that feel hotter and longer. Seasons arrive at unfamiliar times. Birds, fish, and wildlife are less common in places where abundance once felt ordinary. Frequently, people returned to a simple observation: the world around them is changing, often faster than they expected. And many worried about a growing separation between people and nature, especially among young people.

Yet alongside those concerns was something else: gratitude. People spoke about their favorite places and the comfort of trees. They shared memories of the relief of shade on a hot day, the sound of moving water, and the feeling of stepping outside and remembering that they are part of something larger than themselves. Those comments were reminders that nature is something we belong to, not simply something we manage.

The task is great

The Nature Record was created, in part, because this moment demands a fuller accounting of our relationship with nature in the United States — not only what is happening to ecosystems, lands, waters, and species, but why those changes matter. This task is necessarily large.

Nature shapes our health, our economies, our cultures, our safety, and our sense of place. Understanding those connections requires more than ecological science — it requires listening across disciplines, communities, experiences, and ways of knowing.

Another ancient sage2 asks: “Who is wise? One who learns from every person.” The public comment period was a powerful reminder of that idea.

People challenged assumptions. They asked difficult questions, and they pushed us to think more deeply about access, equity, stewardship, and responsibility. They reminded us that environmental issues are not separate from daily life. They are daily life.

No assessment can fully capture all of those perspectives. But it can create space for them to meet.

The matter is pressing

There was no shortage of urgency in the comments we received. People expressed concern about biodiversity loss, climate change, environmental injustice, and the accelerating pace of ecological change. Many wondered whether our institutions are prepared for what lies ahead. But people were not looking only for a diagnosis — they were looking for possibility.

Over and over, assessment readers asked where recovery is happening, what is working, what communities can learn from one another, and how people can become part of solutions rather than simply witnesses to decline. This desire to understand not only what is changing, but what is possible, has helped shape The Nature Record.

One of the clearest lessons to emerge from The Nature Record is that decline is not the only story. Across the country, communities are restoring rivers and shorelines, tribal stewardship is revitalizing ecosystems and cultures, cities are expanding access to nature, and farmers, fishers, and ranchers are finding ways to sustain both livelihoods and habitat. Partnerships are reducing risk while strengthening connection and trust.

None of these efforts are perfect, and few are complete. But together they remind us that recovery is possible.

You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it

Environmental work can feel overwhelming because the challenges are so large and the timelines so long. No single assessment will solve the challenges confronting nature. No single policy will complete the work. No generation will finish it. The work of stewardship unfolds across lifetimes, carried forward by people who inherit landscapes they did not create and accept responsibility for futures they may never see.

Perhaps that is why this ancient teaching has endured for nearly two thousand years. It acknowledges both our limits and our responsibilities.

Another old adage says we should plant trees for those who come after us, just as others planted for us.3 That may be the simplest expression of stewardship I know.

The Nature Record is not the final word on nature in America. It is one contribution to a much longer story. It is an attempt to understand the world we inherited and to leave something useful for those who follow.

The public comment period may be ending, but the work continues. Over the coming months, authors will revise the assessment in response to public input and independent peer review. We will strengthen the science, deepen the synthesis, and continue asking what kind of relationship with nature we hope to build in the decades ahead.

Thank you for reading, commenting, questioning, encouraging, and participating. Thank you for helping to shape The Nature Record.

The day is short.
The task is great.
The matter is pressing.

And yet there is still much worth protecting, much worth restoring, and much that is still possible.

Subscribe now

Kurt Vonnegut had this way of noticing small things and saying them out loud so you’d laugh and then, a second later, realize he wasn’t joking. Many of his quirky musings have stayed with me, but most of all, I keep coming back to something he wrote in Cat’s Cradle—that science is a kind of “magic that works.”

The Magic That Works

We know more today about nature—about ecosystems, biodiversity, climate, and health—than at any point in human history. In some cases, a single bottle of water can hold an entire ecosystem. Not in the way we’re used to seeing it, but in traces—skin cells, scales, pollen, and other bits of organisms drifting through a stream or ocean. With a small sample of water, scientists can read those traces and begin to tell a story: what lives here, what used to, and what might be missing.

Using environmental DNA—eDNA—scientists can now identify species that are present in a place without ever seeing them. For example, in recent work across U.S. National Wildlife Refuges, a few bottles of water revealed more than 500 species—from fish and frogs to birds and mammals. In the Midwest, an eDNA study rediscovered a mussel thought extinct for decades. And in lakes and rivers nationwide, eDNA is now being used as an early warning system—detecting invasive species before they are ever seen.

We can see what was once invisible, and we can see it in near real time. It really does feel like magic. But even magic that works has to matter. Science is essential, but to have immediate impact it needs a place to land: in communities, in decisions, in the everyday choices that shape the world around us. Knowing is not the same as changing.

The Stories We Tell Ourselves

The gap between what we know and what we do has a lot to do with the stories we tell ourselves. Vonnegut put it plainly: we are what we pretend to be. So it’s worth asking—what have we been pretending about nature?

Have we been treating nature as stable—something that will be there, more or less the same, no matter what we do? As something separate from us—out there, rather than something we are part of and responsible for? As something that exists primarily for our benefit—valuable for what it gives us, rather than a relationship that asks something in return?

Even in fields that celebrate our connection to nature, the story often centers on what nature does for us—its benefits, its services—more than what we owe in return. That framing is powerful, but incomplete. It can leave us informed, even appreciative, without fundamentally changing how we act.

And when we build economic and political systems on that kind of pretense, the outcomes follow. Growing risks. Widening inequities. A slow erosion of the things we depend on most.

What’s different now is that the pretense is harder to sustain. Tools like eDNA expand what we know, while narrowing the space between ignorance and awareness. It’s increasingly difficult to claim we don’t see what’s there, or that change is happening somewhere else, or that uncertainty is the primary barrier to action. One of our oldest excuses is slipping away.

When “So It Goes” Isn’t Enough

We could become incredibly sophisticated at documenting decline. We could build ever more precise ways of measuring what we are losing, while leaving the systems that drive that loss largely untouched. Better instruments, same trajectory.

Vonnegut had a way of capturing that quiet resignation—“so it goes”—a phrase that can feel uncomfortably familiar in conversations about environmental change.

But most of what we’re talking about—how we manage land, water, cities, economies—is not inevitable. It reflects choices. Repeated, reinforced, and often unexamined—but choices nonetheless.

And if that’s true, then a different set of choices remains possible.

A Record That Matters

That’s where I think efforts like The Nature Record come in. At one level, it’s exactly what it sounds like: a careful accounting of what’s happening to nature across the United States—and what those changes mean for our health, our economy, our safety, and our sense of belonging.

But more than that, it’s an attempt to close the gap between knowing and doing. To translate observation into something usable. To connect data to lived experience. To bring together different ways of knowing—scientific, local, Indigenous—into a shared picture that people can actually act on. Not just a record of change, but a way of making that change legible and consequential.

What Comes Next

So the question isn’t whether we have the capacity to understand nature. We do. The question is whether we’re willing to let that understanding shape what happens next.

Because the story of nature in the United States isn’t finished. It’s unfolding in real time, across places and communities, decisions and tradeoffs. We’re not just observing it. We’re part of it. And if it’s true that we are what we pretend to be, then what do we want nature to become?

If this resonates, I’d invite you to spend a little time with The Nature Record. Read a section. Offer a comment. Share what feels right—or what feels missing. We’re still writing this record. It will be better if more voices are part of it.

Subscribe now

From Seattle to Philadelphia, The Nature Record’s Deputy Director Tessa Francis has been on the road — and online — gathering input on the draft assessment with other team members. We spoke with her about what she’s hearing in those conversations and how public input is shaping the work.

The Nature Record (TNR): We’ve been in rooms with scientists, practitioners, and the public. What’s surprised you most about how people are talking about nature right now and what that says about this moment in the U.S.?

Tessa Francis (TF): Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised about this, but what has been most gratifying is that everywhere we go, we hear from people of all backgrounds, communities, and professions that nature matters to them, that they see it changing, and that they want to do something to help. We’ve had so many people volunteer to join us! And gratitude — we’ve heard so many expressions of gratitude just for the fact that we are producing The Nature Record, and that we are asking people for their thoughts and opinions to help us shape it. I think right now people want to get involved, want their voice to matter, and want to help make a change. That has been a very pleasant surprise.

TNR: The assessment aims to be rigorous, but the input can be personal and emotional. How do you bring those different kinds of knowledge together?

TF: We have been working for years on the science. Our protocols around rigor follow the gold standards for how to produce an assessment. So we are pretty confident about getting that part right. What we need to do now is make sure that our scientific findings matter to people, that they resonate. That’s where people’s experiences and stories come in. They offer our authors a way to focus or even pivot towards those threads of personal experience and emotion, to highlight the pieces of the scientific record that bring people in. And help us see what we might be missing. Those two parts — the head and the heart — are both crucial, and it turns out that they work well together.

TNR: Where are you seeing the strongest connections between people’s lived experiences and the broader findings in the assessment?

TF: I’d have to say that it’s around health and well-being. There is an extraordinary wealth of scientific research demonstrating the health benefits of nature, and the assessment focuses an entire chapter on that research. In place after place, we hear stories from people about their local park, their visits to national parks, their activities on open, public lands, their fishing and kayaking and their urban forests — and just how happy they feel when they are outside. They talk about how being in nature connects them to family and community. How much they care about the health of nature and how distressed they are when they see it being lost or degraded. What we see in the scientific literature is exactly what we hear people experience. Including me!

TNR: How do you see feedback from these events challenging, validating, or otherwise influencing the assessment?

TF: We’re really being held to our promise to make this assessment accessible to a broad audience! Our team of 160-plus authors are the best in their fields. They are qualified, experienced experts. Big brains, with a lot of information inside. And the assessment is actually short. So there is a need to pack a lot of information into a small number of pages. One strategy is to use fancy words, technical jargon. But we are being challenged to write better, to make the report accessible to everyone who wants to read it, who wants to know what’s happening in nature. And that’s a great challenge to have to meet! And the “+1s” — we get a lot of comments on the assessment content that amount to “Yes! This is great! I want to know about that!” That is very validating, knowing we are on the right track.

TNR: Has there been a comment, story, or interaction at one of these events that changed how you think about the assessment?

TF: We’ve been so focused on the assessment as a U.S. story — a record of nature and its benefits to people in our nation. But we held an event in Dallas, and a man came to see us who works in Africa, and he really wanted to share his appreciation for the fact that we are going out to communities and people and asking them for their opinions to help shape the assessment. In his experience, if our process had been implemented in the places where he works, a lot of unnecessary environmental damage could have been avoided. I’m not sure whether that is true, but it really made me think that not only are we producing the best science, with a focus on what matters to people, but our process also has the potential to lead to some real positive outcomes for nature.

TNR: If someone is on the fence about submitting a comment or attending an event, what would you tell them about why their perspective matters right now?

TF: The Nature Record is not done! How are vinyl records made? Are they pressed? The Record is not pressed yet! We have the song list, and we even have the basic melody written, the drums laid down, and maybe the bass line. But there is still time to add harmonies. Guitar solos. Maybe even a horn section! OK, enough with the musical analogy. But it’s true: our authors are not done writing the assessment. They are waiting to hear feedback from the public on their first draft, and will be using that feedback to write the final version. And in my analogy, every member of the public is a qualified musician. Everyone who cares about nature is qualified to comment. Our authors have recorded the raw song, but now it’s time to hit the mixing board and produce the final track. OK, now I swear I’m done.

Learn more about upcoming virtual and in-person events at https://naturerecord.org/events, or follow us on LinkedIn.

Subscribe now

There’s a kind of gathering that happens this time of year. A table set with intention. A story told again. Each year we’re asked to hear the story differently — as participants with questions, interruptions, and the understanding that the story isn’t complete without us.

That’s what this moment of The Nature Record feels like. It’s not a finished account, but something shared and still unfolding.

What People Are Asking For

When we opened the draft for public comment, we invited people in. And as we’ve met with communities around the country, it’s been clear that people are accepting that invitation.

They want clarity on what matters, connection to the decisions they’re actually facing, and examples that make the insights real. People want to understand what’s happening, why it matters, and what it means for them.

Two Emerging Themes

Across the comments so far, we’re hearing a call to widen the lens and bring lived experience in alongside scientific evidence. The Nature Record should reflect the full range of relationships people have with nature, from urban neighborhoods to rural landscapes to coastal communities. Again and again, we’re hearing: help us see ourselves in this.

There’s also a strong sense of possibility running through the feedback. People are asking for pathways forward. They want to know what’s working, where change is already happening, and how communities and ecosystems are recovering together. They’re looking for a sense of direction they can carry into their own work and decisions.

Why the Questions Matter

The questions coming in — some simple, some unexpected, some even a little disruptive — are exactly the ones that matter most. They open up the story and make it breathe. They remind us that understanding is built together. We are watching the draft shift from a document to a conversation.

Add Your Voice

We’re nearly halfway through the public review period. There are still gaps to fill, connections to strengthen, and voices to bring in more fully. What we’re hearing, clearly and consistently: People don’t just want to read the story of nature in the U.S. — they want to help tell it.

There’s still plenty of time to be part of this. You don’t need to read everything. You don’t need to be an expert. You just need to bring questions, examples, or perspectives shaped by nature where you live, work, or care about. Learn how to review and contribute, then explore the draft.

The most meaningful stories are not the ones that are finished. They are the ones we return to again and again, each time adding something new.

Subscribe now

If you’ve been unsure how to participate, today’s post explains how to get started.

A Practical Guide to Contributing Meaningful Insights

Opening a national scientific assessment can feel a little like opening IKEA instructions—lots of diagrams, unfamiliar symbols, and the leftover bolt on the table leaves you with the strong suspicion that you skipped an important step somewhere along the way.

Maybe you opened the assessment at naturerecord.org and realized it was hundreds of pages long or started reading it and thought “I’m not sure I’m qualified to comment on something like this.”

These reactions are completely understandable. This guide is meant to show how anyone can engage with The Nature Record and offer feedback that strengthens the final report.

How to Review and Comment on the Draft

The first thing to know is that you do not need to read the entire report.

The Nature Record National Assessment is best approached like a map. You don’t need to walk every road. You just need to start somewhere that draws you in and follow your own route.

Some readers begin with the ecosystems chapters, which describe what is happening in marine systems, inland waters, and terrestrial landscapes. Others start with the chapters on drivers of change—forces such as climate change, land use, pollution, or invasive species that shape the condition of nature.

You might also find yourself drawn to the chapters that explore connections between nature and people, including culture, health, economies, and security.

Wherever you begin, spend time with the summaries, key messages, maps, and figures. These often capture the core message of a chapter quickly. They can help orient you before reading more deeply into the text.

Once you have a sense of what the chapter is saying, you are ready to comment.

What Useful Feedback Looks Like

You do not need to evaluate the technical details of the science. Many of the most helpful comments focus on clarity, relevance, and perspective.

• Does the chapter clearly explain why these findings matter?

• Are there places where the language could be clearer or more accessible?

• Does this reflect what you see happening in your region or community?

• Are there important examples or perspectives that should be included?

• Are there topics that you feel are important and are missing?

Comments like these help ensure the report is not only scientifically rigorous, but also meaningful and usable.

You might also notice where the report feels unbalanced—too much emphasis in one place, not enough in another—or where connections between chapters could be clearer. Those observations are valuable.

Where to Focus Your Attention

There are a few places where you can add particular value.

Clarity. If something is hard to follow, call it out.

Local knowledge. Many people know of restoration efforts, stewardship programs, or partnerships that don’t yet appear in the report but should. We won’t be able to fit every example into the report, but we hope to find other ways to highlight these examples.

Connections between people and nature. How landscapes shape identity, livelihoods, recreation, and well-being—these perspectives are central to the assessment and often best informed by lived experience.

In other words, you don’t need to approach this like a technical reviewer. You can approach it as someone who cares about nature and wants this record to be as complete and useful as possible.

Share Your Perspective

In the end, The Nature Record National Assessment is something you can gently step into.

Read a section that catches your attention. Notice what makes sense and what doesn’t. Pay attention to what feels familiar and what feels missing.

Think of this as the part of the IKEA experience where you stop, look at the instructions, look at the half-built piece in front of you, and realize something might not quite fit the way it should. Maybe a step needs to be clearer. Maybe a piece is missing. Maybe that leftover bolt actually matters.

That’s what this public comment process is for. The draft we’ve shared is one moment in a larger process of listening—to science, to nature, and to people. The final version will be stronger because you took the time to notice what fits, what doesn’t, and what’s missing.

So wherever you begin, welcome. And if you see the extra bolt on the table, please tell us.

Subscribe now

There are moments when science gives us answers. These are important moments.

And then there are moments when something else happens. A painting grabs your attention. A young person tells a story about water or wildlife or loss. A poem lingers in your mind longer than you expect. And suddenly you feel it.

At The Nature Record, we work every day with maps and models, datasets and frameworks. But we also know that information alone doesn’t carry us forward. Feeling does.

That’s why our partnership with Bow Seat: Creative Action for Conservation matters so deeply to me. Bow Seat is the world’s largest environmental youth program for the creative arts, inviting thousands of young people each year to explore climate change, ocean health, and environmental justice through visual art, writing, film, music, and mixed media.

This year, Bow Seat invited youth artists to create work that resonates with themes from The Nature Record. From those submissions, we selected Author Spotlight winners — and today, I’m grateful to share their contributions.

Spend a few minutes in the online gallery, and you’ll quickly learn that these young artists are doing something essential. They’re taking what the world is telling us — about climate, biodiversity, belonging — and giving it back to us through their eyes and hearts.

Science can be precise. It shows patterns. It reveals trends. It tells us what is happening and what might help. But science doesn’t usually tell us why we should care. That’s where these pieces enter. Their work gets through our defenses and works in the quiet places of our mind and body.

A growing body of research confirms what many of us already feel intuitively: when artists and conservation scientists work together, new pathways open. Conservation efforts become more creative. Science communication becomes more human. People engage not just intellectually, but emotionally. Awareness deepens. Art doesn’t simplify complexity; it gives complexity somewhere to live. And conservation, in return, offers grounding in facts, rigor — real ecosystems and species, real stakes.

These pieces offer more than beauty — they offer felt knowledge. They invite wonder and grief to sit side by side. You can sense the pulse of place in them — coral reefs breathing beneath city skylines, rivers moving through family histories, futures imagined with both awe and resolve. Each work holds complexity without explaining it away, reminding us that awareness begins with connection.

What has stayed with me is their clarity. These student artists already understand something many of us have to relearn:

We don’t stand apart.
Forests and oceans move through us—
every breath remembers.

The Nature Record is grounded in science. But it is built for people. It lives at the intersection of evidence and experience, analysis and story. That’s why we work with youth artists, poets, and others.

View the online gallery to see the work of these student artists. Then add your own perspective as we shape the draft assessment of U.S. lands, waters, and wildlife and the benefits they provide.

Subscribe now

On that note, last week we opened our draft assessment for comment, and we’d love your input. There are two ways to review the draft and share feedback:

Comment online
Select any chapter to use our online commenting tool.

Download and review offline
Download the chapters as a PDF and submit comments using our spreadsheet template. Each chapter page includes a template with fields to note what your comment refers to. Send completed spreadsheets to feedback@naturerecord.org.

If you have questions or run into any issues, just reply to this email and we’ll help.

Welcoming the Board of Advisors

Today, I’m honored to introduce the Board of Advisors for The Nature Record — an extraordinary group of leaders spanning health, finance, conservation, engineering, education, philanthropy, business, Indigenous stewardship, and youth engagement.

While they come from many places and disciplines, what they share is a commitment to rigor and real-world impact — and a belief that understanding nature is inseparable from caring for people.

The Nature Record exists because, despite everything we know about climate and biodiversity, the United States has never had a truly holistic assessment of nature and its benefits: how lands, waters, wildlife, and ecosystems connect to public health, economic vitality, culture, resilience, and community well-being.

The Secretariat stewards the integrity of this work — guiding process, ensuring scientific rigor, and holding the long arc of the assessment. The Board of Advisors joins them as strategic thought partners — helping us sharpen relevance, expand reach, and ensure that this assessment resonates well beyond the pages of a report. Together, they are shaping a platform for action.

Our Advisors bring deep experience across:

• Children’s and community health

• Finance, risk, and natural capital

• Education and youth leadership

• Indigenous knowledge and place-based stewardship

• Corporate sustainability and infrastructure

• Philanthropy and systems change

They are already offering strategic guidance, sharpening our thinking about audience and impact, and helping us bridge worlds that too often remain separate. (Visit our About page for the complete list of advisors.)

I’m especially grateful for their generosity of time and perspective during our inaugural meetings. The conversations reaffirmed something I’ve felt since the earliest days of this effort: that the future of nature depends not just on better data, but on better collaboration across sectors, disciplines, and worldviews.

With The Nature Record Assessment draft now open for comment, this is a moment for collective stewardship. We hope you’ll read, reflect, and share your insights from wherever you call home.

Please join me in welcoming our Board of Advisors — and in building this assessment together.

Subscribe now

For the first time, there’s a shared draft of the state of nature in the United States, and you can help shape it.

The Nature Record National Assessment is open for public review through May 30, 2026. This holistic assessment brings together what we know about lands, waters, and wildlife and the benefits they provide: how nature supports our health, safety, food, jobs, and culture. It also examines how nature is changing.

This draft reflects years of careful work by authors, chapter leads, and staff who have worked tirelessly, reviewed sources, and strengthened every page. Now it’s ready for your input. We invite you to review it and add your perspective.

​​Why your voice matters

This assessment is built with the people and places it serves. It is grounded in science and informed by lived experience and local insight — each essential to understanding the full picture.

Your input will make the assessment stronger and help ensure the record reflects what’s happening across communities, across sectors, and across ways of knowing — from research and policy to business, stewardship, and education.

How to participate

You can comment on the full assessment, a chapter, or a single line. Make one comment or many.

A record is only as strong as the people who see themselves in it. This isn’t just a report about nature. It’s a reflection of how we choose to live with it — and with one another.

So read it. Mark it up. Disagree with it. Strengthen it. Tell us what we missed.

Use the power you have — the power of your experience, your ideas, your insights. Let’s build a record worthy of the places we love and the future we’re responsible for.

Submit feedback using the online tool. Or download a chapter, review it with a group, and upload your collective notes.

Visit naturerecord.org to explore the draft and share your feedback.

Share

No single vantage point can fully capture the state of nature. Seeing clearly requires us to stand beside one another and notice what we would miss alone. The living world has known this all along.

In the southern Great Plains, for example, tarantulas and narrow-mouthed toads share burrows. The toad shelters inside the spider’s den, safe from predators it could not evade on its own. In return, the toad eats ants and other small insects that would otherwise prey on the tarantula’s eggs. Despite being a potential meal, the toad is tolerated—sometimes even defended—by the spider. Both species do better this way: the tarantula survives and reproduces better, and the toad gets access to ideal habitat. Each thrives because the other is there.

What’s striking about systems like this is that resilience doesn’t come from sameness or separation. It emerges from differences that serve one another. Systems like this are more durable when distinct strengths can interact—when roles are complementary and success is shared rather than competed for.

We’re building The Nature Record with that same ethic of reciprocity and shared purpose.

The Nature Record National Assessment is intentionally collaborative, bringing together scientists, practitioners, storytellers, and community voices across disciplines, sectors, geographies, and ways of knowing. Rather than working in isolation, contributors build on one another’s expertise—linking data with lived experience, analysis with narrative, local knowledge with national perspective. The result is not just a collection of chapters, but a resilient assessment shaped by interdependence, strengthened by diversity, and capable of seeing what no single perspective could on its own.

An early lesson

Early in my career, I was part of a project that looked successful from the outside. The science was solid. The outputs were clean. The meetings were… efficient. Too efficient, maybe. Credit tended to flow in one direction. Some voices drowned out others. I remember sitting in a conference room, saying less than I knew, and feeling a huge sense of relief when the meeting ended.

At the time, I didn’t have good language for what bothered me. I just knew I didn’t want that feeling to become normal.

Not long after, I found myself in a very different kind of collaboration. People debated—but kindly. Ideas were shared freely, often half-formed. There was laughter, sometimes at the wrong moment. The work was harder in some ways, messier in many ways, but it felt awesome. It felt sustaining.

That contrast stuck with me. It clarified something I’ve carried ever since.

What collaboration really means (to me)

What I love most—what has kept me engaged across decades of work—is collaboration. Not collaboration as a line in a proposal or an org chart, but collaboration as a lived practice: working with people who are curious about one another, generous with ideas, and willing to lift each other up as we go.

For efforts like The Nature Record, collaboration isn’t just a nice value. It’s foundational to credibility.

Our understanding of nature doesn’t come from a single discipline, dataset, or institution. It comes from many places and many ways of knowing—ecologists and economists, Indigenous knowledge holders and community leaders, public health experts and practitioners on the ground. Bringing those perspectives together takes real work. It requires trust. It requires listening. It requires creating space for disagreement without diminishment, and ambition without ego.

For The Nature Record, this means chapter teams actively integrating different forms of evidence, examining interpretations across disciplines, and pressure-testing conclusions with people who bring lived experience alongside technical expertise. It’s messy and challenging, but it’s exactly what ensures this assessment reflects reality—not just theory—and produces insights that can actually be used.

That’s been the common thread in the projects I’m most proud of. And it’s especially true for The Nature Record. Which is why I want to offer a very explicit shout-out to our chapter leads.

Why the chapter leads matter so much

The role of chapter leads is both essential and often invisible. Chapter leads don’t just organize writing or manage timelines. They convene people across disciplines, sectors, geographies, and ways of knowing. They hold space for disagreement without letting it fracture the work. They listen carefully, synthesize thoughtfully, and make judgment calls that require both scientific rigor and deep respect for people.

They protect quality and relationships. They make sure credit is shared. They notice who hasn’t spoken yet—and invite them in. Most importantly, they set the tone.

The culture of The Nature Record—its generosity, seriousness, and mutual respect—doesn’t happen by accident. It reflects the daily choices made by the people leading its chapters. In many ways, they exemplify exactly what I’m trying to describe here: collaboration as an ethic, not just a method.

The work ahead

Up until now, this work has lived primarily within our author teams and chapter leads. But that’s about to change.

As we approach the public review period, we’ll be widening the circle.

From March 1–May 30, 2026, anyone who cares about nature—researchers, practitioners, community members, students, artists, policy leaders, and neighbors—will be invited to engage with The Nature Record. You’ll be able to comment on individual chapters or across the full assessment. You’ll be able to share insights, raise questions, surface missing perspectives, and help strengthen what’s here.

This isn’t a formality. Public participation is part of how this assessment becomes more credible, more grounded, and more useful. Your lived experience matters. Your local knowledge matters. Your questions matter.

In nature, resilience emerges through relationships. We’re trying to honor that same truth here.

So consider this an invitation. The Nature Record is built through collaboration—and soon, we hope you’ll join us.

Subscribe now

Earlier this month, we held a public engagement webinar to introduce The Nature Record. If you missed it, we’re hosting another introductory session on January 28. You can sign up here.

Thank you to all who participated in our first session. Below are several questions that came up in the Q&A.

Who is The Nature Record for?

The Nature Record is for anyone who makes or influences decisions about nature — or lives with those decisions.

We’re building The Nature Record for leaders at every level — federal, state, Tribal, territorial, and local — who need reliable information to guide their planning and spending.

We’re also designing for the needs of people doing the work on the ground: park managers, city planners, health workers, and conservation groups. They need to understand risks, benefits, and trade-offs in practical terms.

We serve scientists and researchers too. We bring together ecological, social, cultural, and economic dimensions of nature and show where we still need more knowledge.

We help businesses and investors understand the connections between nature’s effects on their supply chains, their risks, and their long-term success.

And we aim to be accessible to everyone: teachers, museum staff, reporters, and people who simply want to understand what’s happening in their own backyard.

Our goal is to give everyone the same trusted information so we can all make better decisions about nature and how it supports our lives.

What products might accompany the nature assessment?

We’re exploring a range of products:

• Arts-based products that highlight people’s relationships with nature

• Policy-focused products that synthesize findings for decision-makers

• Informal and formal educational opportunities

These are early examples, and this will continue to evolve.

How will The Nature Record interact with state-level policy and natural resource management?

The Nature Record will interact with state-level policy and natural resource management primarily through strategic partnerships with trusted boundary organizations that specialize in translating science into actionable policy and management guidance. The Nature Record is designed to work with partners, such as the National Caucus of Environmental Legislators, professional associations, and practitioner networks, who already have deep relationships with state policymakers, wildlife agencies, and natural resource managers.

Through these partnerships, findings from the assessment will be synthesized into concise, modular policy briefs, toolkits, case studies, and learning opportunities that align with the realities of state governance. This approach allows evidence from The Nature Record to be carried forward into state wildlife action plans, land and water management strategies, biodiversity initiatives, and budgetary decisions in ways that are timely, relevant, and decision-ready.

Are you engaging with groups collecting data to monitor changes in nature?

We don’t currently plan to directly conduct or manage monitoring efforts. That said, we’re interested in supporting groups that do this work and welcome opportunities to connect. In particular, we can help explore nature-based solutions that address multiple challenges at once and inform monitoring priorities.

What frameworks guide the assessment?

The Nature Record is guided by a set of complementary frameworks that support a holistic, equitable, and decision-relevant assessment of nature and its benefits to people. The assessment is grounded in social–ecological systems thinking, recognizing people as part of nature and emphasizing dynamic interactions among ecological, social, economic, and cultural systems across scales. It draws on multiple people–nature relationship frameworks, including perspectives that emphasize biodiversity and ecosystem integrity, nature’s contributions to people, and relational values that reflect cultural, spiritual, and stewardship connections to nature.

We value knowledge in many forms, and the assessment aims to be inclusive of multiple worldviews. It integrates risk-based, indicator-based, and resilience-based approaches to evaluate what is valued, what is at risk, how conditions are changing, and where interventions can strengthen resilience. It uses a use-inspired, evidence-based synthesis framework grounded in expert consensus and transparent statements of confidence.

Are there opportunities to contribute data or information?

Yes. We encourage everyone to provide input on the draft assessment during the public engagement period, which begins in March. Our authors are also conducting broad scans to identify additional data sources.

If you read a chapter and notice a missing dataset or have relevant data to share, we welcome those contributions through naturerecord.org once the draft is live.

Will the assessment become part of any existing datasets?

We’re committed to making the assessment’s metadata publicly available and accessible. All information included in the report will be released alongside it. From there, we’ll explore how the assessment’s outputs can support and integrate with other data efforts.

How are you engaging the business community?

Several members of our advisory board come from the private sector and help translate findings for business audiences. Some assessment authors also work within private-sector organizations.

We’re actively exploring opportunities to engage with the business sector. If you have ideas or opportunities for business engagement, we’d love to hear from you.

Have a question?

Join our next introductory webinar on January 28 to be part of the conversation. All webinars are held at 12:00-1:30 p.m. PST.

Upcoming topics:

• March 4: How to assess nature

• March 18: What is happening to nature?

• April 1: How do changes to nature manifest (part 1)?

• April 15: How do changes to nature manifest (part 2)?

• April 29: What can we all do?

For more details, visit the registration page.

Subscribe now

It’s the day after Martin Luther King Jr. Day. The quotes are fading from our social media feeds. The ceremonies are over. The calendar has moved on. And, as is often the case, it is the 364 days that follow this moment that ask the most of us.

Dr. King is remembered by many for his words, but his work focused on systems — about who benefits from them, who is burdened by them, and who is allowed to shape them. When I think about environmental justice, I hear those same questions echoing underneath it all.

Environmental harm in this country isn’t random. Neither are environmental benefits. Clean air, safe water, parks, tree canopy, access to coastlines, rivers, and trails — these, too, follow lines drawn long ago through housing policy, zoning, disinvestment, and political power. Communities of color, Indigenous communities, and low-income communities are more likely to live with pollution and climate risk, and less likely to receive the everyday benefits that nature provides for health, safety, and well-being.

This is an important focus of The Nature Record. Across chapters, the assessment asks not only where environmental risks are concentrated, but also who has access to nature’s benefits — and who does not. It brings together evidence showing how nature supports health, safety, cultural connection, and economic opportunity, while also making clear that these benefits are not shared evenly.

Towards the end of his life, Dr. King spoke more directly about how racial injustice, economic exploitation, and the conditions of the places people live are bound together. You can’t pull on one thread without tightening the others. Environmental justice lives in that reality — not only in reducing harm, but in expanding who gets to be in relationship with nature and experience nature as a source of health, dignity, and opportunity.

At its core, environmental justice is simple to say and hard to do. Everyone deserves a healthy place to live. No community should be treated as expendable. And the people most affected need real power in shaping decisions. That applies both to where risks are concentrated and to where benefits flow.

After MLK Day, I find myself thinking less about commemoration and more about follow-through. The work ahead isn’t only about restoring nature, essential as that is. It’s also about redesigning systems so that access to nature is not a privilege for some, but a foundation for all.

I hope you’ll follow The Nature Record, engage with the work as it unfolds, and add your voice when opportunities for public comment and conversation open up. This assessment is built on the idea that knowledge — and equal access to knowledge — should lead to action, and that shaping a more just relationship between people and nature takes all of us.

Share

We’re launching a new public engagement series this month, beginning with two introductory webinars in January and continuing this spring with a series of deeper, topic-focused conversations. Learn more and register here.

Today’s newsletter is about why this dialogue matters…

We do not all experience nature in the same way.

Our connections to lands, waters, and ecosystems are shaped by where we live, how we live, and what we carry with us. For some, those connections are rooted in long relationships with place—held through generations, responsibilities, and in some cases since time immemorial. For others, they are formed through work on land and water, through study and observation, through recreation, or through moments of loss that sharpen what’s at stake.

Recent research shows how people who care deeply about the same place can still experience and understand it in very different ways. In a study of the San Marcos River in Texas, for example, researchers found that anglers, conservation advocates, landowners, and recreationists each described their relationship to the river differently—some emphasizing stewardship and responsibility, others focusing on use, access, or livelihood. Those differences sometimes fueled conflict, but when they were acknowledged directly, they also helped clarify what people valued most and opened space for more constructive conversation and management.

Nature can be
Livelihood or refuge,
Routine or revelation,
Something we measure carefully—or something we simply feel.
And for some,
Nature is a relative, to whom we are bound by responsibility and respect.

All of these ways of experiencing nature matter. They are not mutually exclusive, and they shape what we notice, what we value, and what we are willing to protect.

That understanding sits at the heart of The Nature Record.

This project is not meant to speak at people. It is meant to listen—to communities and scientists, practitioners and neighbors, people deeply rooted in place and those seeking to reconnect. The aim is not a single story about nature, but a shared record that brings together scientific evidence and lived experience, each strengthening the other.

Science and other information sources provide structure and rigor. People provide meaning. Dialogue allows them to work together.

An Invitation to Join the Conversation

This winter, we’re opening that dialogue more fully through a new public engagement series, designed to create space for learning, questions, and exchange. These sessions are intentionally generous with time to understand the project, ask questions, and provide input to shape the work. They are graciously hosted by the Society of Conservation Biology North America, reflecting a shared commitment to open, inclusive dialogue between science and society.

We’ll begin with an introductory session held on two dates:

• January 12 — An introduction to The Nature Record: why it exists, how it’s being built, and how communities are part of the process.

• January 28 — A second opportunity in case you can’t make the first date.

These sessions are for anyone who cares about the places they call home, whether your connection to nature comes through science, stewardship, teaching, policy, art, or everyday experience. You don’t need to arrive with answers. Curiosity is enough.

Learn more and register here.

What Comes Next

The January conversations are just the beginning.

This spring, we’ll host a series of webinars that share highlights from the third draft of The Nature Record assessment—across ecosystems, drivers of change, health, economy, culture, and risk—and invite feedback along the way.

What resonates?
What feels incomplete?
What needs to be clarified or grounded more firmly in lived reality?

Alongside these virtual conversations, we’re also planning a series of live, in-person events across the country—opportunities to gather, listen, and talk about nature in the places where these stories are lived. Details are coming soon.

If you’re interested in hosting a virtual conversation, reach out to us via naturerecord.org. We’d love to hear from you.

Nature connects us whether we notice it or not. This year, we’re creating space to notice together and shape a shared account of the places we know, the changes we’re witnessing, and the future that depends on what we do next.

Subscribe now

Hello everyone,

As we head toward 2026, it feels like the right moment to set the needle down, let the record spin, and listen for what this year has been quietly insisting on.

So I’ll start with a simple update.

Going forward, this work will operate under a new name: The Nature Record.

You’ll still hear from me. You’ll still see the same team, the same authors, the same values, and the same commitment to scientific rigor and public relevance. You’ll just see a new name on our website, newsletter, and social channels. That’s the change.

Everything else remains in motion. Our growing team continues elevating the role of nature in the U.S., tracing how the lands, waters, and wildlife around us move through daily life — from health and the economy to national security, equity, climate, and culture. Together, we’re building the first holistic, living record of what’s changing, what’s at stake, and the paths opening ahead.

2025 reminded us why this work matters

In 2025, nature continued to move from the margins of public conversation into everyday life. For many people, it showed up in ordinary, personal ways: an awe-inspiring forest walk, a quiet moment in a city park, heat shaping health and work, floods and fires affecting homes and insurance, shifting species altering food systems, livelihoods, and cultural practices.

This year also made clear that these changes carry tangible economic and human consequences. In 2025, the Outdoor Recreation Roundtable found that outdoor recreation supported roughly five million jobs nationwide, underscoring how healthy lands and waters function as economic infrastructure for communities across the country, from towns located near major attractions to urban economies. At the same time, ecosystem loss revealed quieter but equally profound costs. Communities around the Great Salt Lake reported the mental health toll of a disappearing lake, with exposed lakebeds and degraded air quality leading to rising anxiety and depressive symptoms, especially among young people and first responders.

There were also reminders of what works. In 2025, tribal-led dam removal on the Klamath River reopened hundreds of miles of salmon habitat under the leadership of the Yurok, Karuk, and Klamath Tribes. There, Indigenous leadership and co-management are restoring ecosystems while strengthening cultural practices, water quality, and community well-being—showing what’s possible when long-term stewardship guides restoration.

From my vantage point, the challenge in front of us now isn’t a lack of science. It’s fragmentation. We have strong data on ecosystems, species, and human outcomes, but they rarely travel together or reach the places where decisions about health, safety, and prosperity are made. What’s missing is a shared, trusted way to see these changes in combination and to connect evidence to real choices. That gap—between what we know, what we experience, and what we act on—is exactly why The Nature Record exists.

Team highlights

This year, we rebuilt and strengthened our core staff, expanded the scope and authorship of the assessment—including the addition of four new chapters—and established a clear governance structure through the Secretariat. Authors completed drafts of the assessment and engaged a strong technical support unit, setting the stage for peer review by the National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine early next year.

At the same time, we conducted outreach and engagement across the country, connecting with communities, practitioners, educators, artists, and decision-makers to ensure the assessment reflects diverse experiences and is designed for use. We integrated storytelling, poetry, and visual art as companion ways of making the science more accessible and human.

We’re deeply grateful to this community—authors, editors, partners, funders, advisors, and nature lovers. None of this would be possible without your time, trust, and commitment.

What’s next

The months ahead are exciting. Early in 2026, we’ll release the full draft for public comment, and I hope you’ll join us in that moment. This is our chance to listen carefully—to learn how the assessment reflects your experiences, your places, and your hopes for the future. We want to know what feels right, what needs strengthening, and what isn’t being said clearly enough.

We’re building an online tool to make it easy for anyone to add their voice, whether through science, practice, lived experience, or deep connection to place. This work is stronger when it’s shaped together, and when it reflects the many ways people understand and care for nature. After that, we’ll roll up our sleeves for the hard, careful, and deeply satisfying work of revision, carrying us toward a final assessment in fall 2026.

Beyond the assessment itself, we’re preparing new partnerships, tools, and stories to help turn knowledge into action—so what we learn together can help guide decisions, strengthen communities, and open paths forward.

Thank you for being part of The Nature Record.

Phil

Subscribe now

It’s autumn on Vashon Island. One maple is firelit with orange and gold, their leaves spiraling down onto damp roads slick with autumn rain. Others wait their turn. A thin fog drifts across the Sound. Out back, my neighbor’s bees make their final forays of the year, gathering what nectar remains before winter stills them.

Watching the season turn, I’m reminded of a parable I heard.

A young girl was walking with her father across a Ukrainian landscape. Passing a field of wheat, the father marveled at the stalks swaying gently in the breeze. He told his daughter that in each stalk he saw the purpose and beauty of the entire universe. Later, as they entered a forest, he plucked a leaf and absentmindedly tore it into pieces as they strolled. The girl was horrified: “How could you destroy the universe?”

That question lingers. And it connects directly to the work of The Nature Record.

For those of you new here, The Nature Record is creating an independent, nationwide assessment of the state of nature in America. It is the first effort of its kind. The Nature Record brings together nearly 200 participants across disciplines and communities—scientists, Tribal leaders, policy thinkers, artists, and storytellers. Together, we are weaving knowledge about the ecosystems of the U.S. with stories about how those ecosystems shape our lives. Chapters of the assessment explore the connections between nature and our health (from clean air and water to mental well-being), our economy (jobs, food, energy), our security (disaster resilience and national stability), our culture and identity (from outdoor traditions to sacred places), and our future choices in the face of climate change and biodiversity loss. Other chapters highlight the ways people experience and value nature, and the bright spots where communities are creating solutions.

The girl’s story is a reminder of why this matters. It’s easy to move through the world distracted, missing the universes contained in a wheat stalk, a tide pool, or the flight of a songbird. But the choices we make—whether to pay attention or look away, to nurture or to neglect—shape the future of both people and planet.

The Nature Record is about staying awake. It’s about seeing clearly the connections between people and the natural world, so we can act with care, humility, and responsibility. Our goal is to create a living assessment: one that informs decisions in boardrooms and classrooms, in Tribal councils and in Congress, but also one that sparks reflection around kitchen tables and in town halls.

When we release our draft in early 2026, I hope you’ll take a look. Tell us what we got right, and where we might have missed the mark. Share your stories, highlight the bright spots from your own corner of nature, and help us see what we might otherwise overlook.

In the end, The Nature Record isn’t just a report. It’s a conversation—and an invitation. Join us in it.

Subscribe now

Right now, nearly 200 authors across the country are doing something that looks deceptively simple: writing.

From offices to quiet kitchens, busy labs to crowded coffee shops, they are crafting the second drafts of their chapters for a first-of-its-kind national assessment of how nature supports life in the United States — and how we, in turn, support or diminish the systems that sustain us.

The project brings together researchers, practitioners, knowledge holders, and business leaders — people who don’t always share the same language or lens. It’s an exercise in collaboration at a national scale, where many ways of seeing the world are shaped into one shared story.

And if you’ve ever tried to co-write anything with more than one person, you know what an audacious idea that is. This is the story of how we make it happen.

The architecture of understanding

Each chapter of The Nature Record national assessment begins with a question: What do we most need to understand about this piece of the story of nature and people?

That question becomes a set of key messages: short, evidence-based statements that summarize what’s known, what’s new, and why it matters. Each key message is supported by analysis, data, and debate. Together, they form the backbone of the assessment — a structure built not just on science, but on dialogue and trust.

The process is rigorous, and consensus rarely comes quickly. But with dialogue, ideas sharpen, perspectives stretch, and what began as information grows into wisdom.

Drafting, revising, refining

Once the framework is in place, the writing begins.

Drafting a chapter like this is part synthesis, part endurance test. Dozens of authors merge evidence from hundreds of studies into a single, coherent story. It’s a process equal parts brilliance and cat herding, and somehow, it works

The Technical Support Unit — based at North Carolina State University and made up of science writers, editors, artists, designers, and project managers — works with The Nature Record staff to review each chapter. They look for clarity and coherence: Are the key messages aligned? Is the writing accessible? Does the story hold together across chapters?

Their feedback sends the authors back to the page, refining language, strengthening evidence, and tightening the threads that tie the story together. The Secretariat adds another layer of review, helping ensure that each piece fits seamlessly into the larger whole. Authors return once more to revise.

It’s a laborious process — slow, deliberate, and sometimes exhausting. But that’s the point. When you take your time building the foundation, what rises above it is stronger, steadier, and built to last.

From document to dialogue

Once the internal reviews are complete, the chapters will move into two parallel tracks of feedback in early 2026. One is the external peer review by the National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine (NASEM) — a rigorous, independent evaluation that tests each chapter for quality, balance, and clarity, ensuring the assessment reflects the highest standards of scientific integrity.

We will also open the process to public engagement through a series of webinars, listening sessions, and community meetings held across the country, where people share how the findings resonate with their own experiences of nature and change. These conversations are candid and often surprising, reminding us that science, at its best, listens as much as it explains.

With feedback from both the NASEM reviewers and the public in hand, the authors return to their chapters, refining language, tightening arguments, and strengthening the evidence that supports each key message. The goal is not only to make the assessment accurate and credible, but also clear, compelling, and capable of inspiring solutions.

As the chapters near completion, the Technical Support Unit returns for a final polish — refining tone and consistency, balancing the voices of hundreds into a single, coherent whole. The Secretariat then conducts its closing review, ensuring that every chapter aligns with the vision and standards of The Nature Record.

Why this work matters

The Nature Record exists because the challenges we face — from climate change to biodiversity loss — are too complex for any one discipline, agency, or worldview to solve alone.

Each chapter, and each key message within it, contributes to a collective effort to understand what nature means to this country: how it sustains us, how it’s changing, and what we can do about it.

The process is imperfect, sometimes frustrating, and deeply human. But it’s also proof that when people take the time to listen, debate, write, and revise together, understanding deepens.

That’s how a chapter is born.

Author’s Note

To the dozens of authors, artists, editors, and partners helping bring The Nature Record to life — thank you. This work takes patience and faith: the patience to wrestle with complexity, and the faith that understanding is possible in a noisy world. As the chapters move into review and public dialogue, we’ll keep sharing the story of how it all comes together. And if you need a smile along the way, we created a song, “I’m Just a Draft.” It’s a reminder that every draft, even in progress, has its own kind of music.

Subscribe now

The sky has softened to gray; leaves once cornflower-yellow gather in fragrant piles, returning to the soil that raised them; salmon return to streams and fade from brilliance to memory. Fall is in the air. I can feel it.

After a too-short Northwest summer, the twilight of autumn draws me inside.

For many, autumn’s north winds signal an end—a time to preserve the summer’s bounty, prepare for winter’s rest, and dream of spring’s awakening. For me, though, it feels like a beginning.

In my garden, I take stock: which plants thrived, which disappointed? Did I choose the wrong varieties? Was the soil lacking? Did the slugs take more than their fair share? The questions themselves mark the start of next year’s growth.

Autumn is also when I take stock of myself. I look back at the last year—what I’ve done well, where I’ve missed the mark. Am I the person I wish to be? How can I grow to be a better father, partner, friend, human? The equinox is an annual moment of beginning again.

United by Nature was founded on this same practice of reflection. Just as the seasons remind us that life is cyclical, not linear, our work depends on pausing to ask hard questions of ourselves, of our science and our practice. Conservation has long been called a “crisis discipline.” With climate change, acidifying oceans, extinctions, and ecosystems unraveling, we don’t have the luxury of time. As the poet and rabbi Eleazar Azikri once wrote: “The time [to act] is now; rush; be quick; be bold.”

Urgency requires action, but also humility—an acknowledgment that none of us can know or solve it all. It asks us to move forward with trust and patience, to listen carefully, and to stay open to all ways of knowing: scientific, Indigenous, local, artistic, spiritual. We must act under uncertainty, learning as we go.

Even the writing of the United by Nature assessment follows this rhythm of reflection and renewal. Across the country, authors are now submitting their second drafts—refined through long conversations, careful reading, and moments of reflection. Editors are tending to each chapter, editing language, clarifying ideas, and suggesting ways to strengthen the whole. It’s an iterative process, one rooted in dialogue, leading toward submission to the National Academies of Science in February for peer review. Like the season itself, the work is about returning, revising, and readying the ground for what’s next.

Too often, conservation efforts skip this step. Many projects are launched with great promise but little follow-through. Without monitoring, without reflection, we can’t know if we’ve truly made a difference—or if we’ve missed the mark.

We created United by Nature as a space to do this differently. It’s not just an assessment of where we stand today, but a commitment to continuous learning, to remodeling our house when the old beams no longer hold, to strengthening the foundation so the future can rest upon it.

Autumn’s golden light reminds us: renewal comes when we have the courage to reflect, adapt, and begin again.

Subscribe now

At this year’s Climate Week in New York, the United by Nature initiative hosted a session that brought together leaders across science, policy, philanthropy, business, and the arts.

The goal was to spark new partnerships and co-develop “companion products” — tools, stories, and resources that help translate findings from United by Nature’s holistic assessment into action across sectors such as energy, agriculture, health, and risk management.

To reflect on the session and what’s next, we spoke with Dr. Heather Tallis, Senior Fellow at UC Santa Cruz’s Center for Coastal Climate Resilience and Chair of the United by Nature Secretariat.

This Q&A has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

UBN: United by Nature links nature to the systems shaping our lives. In the Climate Week conversation you hosted, were those links being made explicitly — and if so, where?

HT: We had an amazing group of partners: David Hassler of Poets for Science, Jess Leffler of Bow Seat Creative Action for Conservation, Rose Hendricks of Association of Science and Technology Centers, Jay Maddock of the Nature & Health Alliance and Texas A&M University, Avery Cohn of Ode Partners, Kate Burgess of the National Caucus of Environmental Legislators, and Diane Pataki of the National Wildlife Federation.

A few key connections stood out. First, it’s now clear that so many aspects of our health are affected by nature, and key findings from the United By Nature assessment that relate to health are likely to be of interest to many. Jay Maddock shared ideas for bringing this information directly to people where they get care: in hospitals. He also spoke about his own practice of prescribing time in nature and training other doctors to do the same in civilian and military hospitals. This sparked conversations about how United by Nature might help spread practices like this based on evidence linking nature and health.

In an unexpected twist (for me), health and art met on stage. David Hassler shared “The Nature of Our Times,” a new anthology of poems inspired by our call for creative expressions of how Americans connect with nature. One of David’s key points was that without expression, we get depression — a beautiful way to describe why art and poetry matter for mental health. They keep us connected to nature, and to one another.

UBN: How do you explain why nature belongs in every climate conversation?

HT: I see two key points here. One, we won’t achieve our climate goals without nature. And two, if we leave nature out, we risk making the climate and our lives worse.

On the first point, natural ecosystems play an enormous role in stabilizing the climate by taking carbon out of the atmosphere. Investments that keep nature in good shape and restore natural ecosystems are proven, available now, and don’t rely on new technologies. Across all the ways we have to invest in nature for climate mitigation, we can achieve at least 30% of our global mitigation goals. If we don’t make these investments, we lose time, and may miss global climate goals entirely.

On the second point, we know that the climate and nature crises are intimately interlinked. Solving for one without the other can cause harm. One example comes from some earlier carbon investments made in Ecuador by another nation looking for climate solutions. They invested in fast growing, non-native pine trees in a high-elevation part of the Andes. That region’s main natural ecosystem is the paramo, a spongy wetland with fabulous plants and a lot of water. The pines grow fast, which is good for storing carbon. But they also demand a lot of water, which is not good for the paramo. The plantations drew water out of the native habitat and the local water supply, weakening native plants, local agriculture, and access to drinking water. What looked like a win for climate caused a loss for nature and communities. It doesn’t have to be this way. There are many examples of climate investments that improve nature, so that dual focus needs to be at the forefront of climate finance.

UBN: In these early days of the initiative, what excites you most about what’s possible?

HT: The energy and investment people are bringing to United by Nature is incredibly inspiring. There was a tangible buzz in the room at Climate Week, and much of that buzz is already turning into action between people who were there and with our own team.

I’m struck by how powerful an open invitation can be. This was brought home to me by the intro to our first companion product, The Nature of Our Times, written by one of the editors, Luisa Igloria. She cites just a few words — our original call for information, stories or art — as the inspiration for their poetry anthology. That brief invitation led to over a thousand people writing poems, spending time reflecting on nature, and sharing their creativity to inspire us all about what’s needed and what’s possible.

If those few words led to so much, I’m energized to see what other invitations we can create, and what more will emerge as our author teams share their actual findings and all our partners bring the Initiative to life.

UBN: Where do you most want people to start listening differently to nature and to one another?

HT: There’s immense opportunity if we focus on how nature underpins the most basic parts of our economy.

The keys I’m typing on started as nature — dinosaur parts, diatoms, and plant bits that became oil, then plastic. The book on my desk came from trees. The glass in the window I’m looking through started as mountains. The coffee I’m drinking came from bushes, hopefully growing under a rainforest. The trees over the city hall in my town keep the building cool and save my taxes for the community instead of electric bills, which also pay for power from nature in one form or another. The wetlands at our water treatment plant — where I first saw a hummingbird nest made with spider webs — clean our stormwater and protect our coastlines.

Anyone can do this. Walk through your day and find touchpoints to nature. There’s almost never more than two degrees of separation between nature and everything we touch in a day. That means every sector of our economy holds power to do better for nature if we start by listening differently, thinking differently, and investing differently.

Governments and investors are already directing billions toward infrastructure that works with nature. They know that nature can do the job of levees, erosion control structures, water treatment plants, or seawalls, or help roads, bridges, ports and railways last longer and work better. Affordable housing can be built more affordably — and beautifully — by integrating green roofs, rain gardens, native plants, and nearby green space with equitable access.

There’s so much possibility if we change how we think about the basics. Let’s start there.

Subscribe now