You say you hate the caterpillars, but why? I am among the minority of people who love the little critters, and here is why: Most of the caterpillars swinging from the treetops and latching onto your sweater are western tussock moths, Orgyia vetusta — a common critter native to the Californian oak woodlands. They are part of a collection of species that have evolved to live on the California live-oak trees, which dominate the flora of Stanford campus. These magnificent beings prune the evergreens of their early foliage, promoting the budding of acorns and forming the base of a thriving trophic pyramid. For me they encapsulate the subtle beauty of evolution and ecology. The oaks feed the caterpillars, which support a diversity of birds, arthropods and small mammals. These myriad connections spin a fine web of life, essential for our survival and sanity.

As a senior, I feel many of my peers leave this place armed with degrees, ready to “affect change” in government, business, schools and hospitals, yet poorly grasping the fundamentals of our natural system. In order to prepare world leaders to face the challenges of the 21st century, Stanford needs to promote a framework of thinking about the environment that students can take with them, wherever they end up.

Critical to the understanding of the natural world is the idea of belonging to a place. What does it mean to know a place? It begins with questions like: What grows here? What doesn’t? Where does my food come from? What about my water? Put simply, these are essential questions that should be asked by all citizens and are necessary for living a sustainable life.

David Orr, a prominent philosopher in this field, writes that a University must promote a “courtship between mind and nature” by introducing the mysteries of a specific place. We should be asking ourselves: Why are there caterpillars? What do they eat? What eats them? Why are there so many right now? Instead, students are exclaiming, “Why are they on my skin? Eeww gross!” while falling off their bikes dodging webs of silk that are essentially the same as the sheets they sleep on. The conversations I have heard on campus the past few weeks have shown that students are receiving degrees from a world-class institution while maintaining a befuddled ignorance of the natural world around them.

So before you complain about the bugs, take off your headphones, go under an oak tree and listen to what the little pre-moth caterpillars are saying. “Slow down... Don’t break my web.... Walk for a change... Admire my agility, beauty and grace as I hang in thin air, defying gravity.” And instead of complaining, go seek out answers. Engage your mind. Learn about your place and then help someone else understand their own.

Ben Graves is a senior majoring in Earth Systems. He can be reached at bgraves@stanford.edu.