I often ran barefoot through Michigan woodlands as I was growing up. I climbed trees, leapt over fallen trunks, and sludged through swamps. I learned to swim very young, so I easily forded rivers and swam across large lakes. My Aunt Dee and Uncle John instilled in me reverence for nature and respect for the land. They also taught me how to hunt, trap, and fish—but only for sustenance, not for sport. As an adult, after randomly wandering the globe and vocationing myself in numerous noble and not-so-noble positions, I found myself in South America, ranching and farming. I always ensured that a respectable portion of the land was kept fallow as a refuge for the local flora and fauna—equally as a morale obligation to the earth’s environment and its populace.