About six years ago, the rewards Kraft felt from forays into the outdoors led her to study nature in earnest, starting with a UC Berkeley course and frequenting Tilden Regional Park behind the school, where she rediscovered “the wonder and delight of being in nature.” Her next step, attending a primitive-skills gathering, prompted her to look back to hundreds of thousands of years ago when people lived nomadically, hunting and gathering, instead of through convenient consumption. Substantial scientific research supports the idea that spending time in nature, and deepening connections to the natural world, improves health and well-being and reduces stress, said Lisa Nisbet, a psychology professor at Trent University in Ontario, Canada, who studies nature’s effects on physical and mental health. “When people walk in those places, they tend to have more positive emotions as opposed to negative emotions, more sense of vitality,” Nisbet said. Benefits can be significant for those whose immersion in nature is far shallower than Kraft’s, Nisbet said. “For some people it may be just they want to enjoy their local park or green space,” she said.
Natural antidote
Kraft knows her lifestyle is uncommon, but believes connections to nature, even small ones, provide an antidote to the hectic pace and overconsumption of modern life. As she speaks, Kraft is peeling a blackberry bramble, which she rubs, twists and loops, transforming it into a length of crude cord a few inches long in the space of a few minutes. “This is a really ancient skill, like 130,000 years,” she said. “In almost every ecological zone there is a plant that is sturdy enough and has the right consistency to make string. I could make a really nice length of cord in a few hours. When you’re done with it, it’s not trash, it’s biodegradable.”
Nature’s bounty, she has learned, does not always require wilderness. When Kraft looks at a residential area now, she sees the houses, but she studies what’s in between. “There are so many interstitial spaces and wild places just in this neighborhood,” she says, walking up a path in the Berkeley hills, pointing out edible plants. “We could really be feeding a lot of people from stuff that’s just weeds.”
Or lying dead by the roadside.
About four years ago, on a trip to Gold Country, Kraft spotted a young freshly dead buck beside Highway 108. She rose the next day at dawn, packed a knife into her old Toyota Corolla, then tried unsuccessfully to cram the deer into the trunk. Instead, she used a daughter’s swimsuit and a handkerchief to hoist the beast into her back seat. Hordes of flies appeared as she deployed her budding skills to butcher some 60 pounds of meat. “I looked up at the pine tree above me, perfectly bisecting the blasting sunshine on a seventy-five-degree day,” she wrote in her book, “and shouted out, ‘This is my life!’ I knew I could rely on myself.”