Get Outside, Learn Weird Stuff, Feel Better
For a few years, the UW-Madison Arboretum was the place where my busy mind felt the most at home. The most at peace.
I visited several times a week, often for hours at a time—walking, taking photos, or just noticing what was around me. Many days I would get off work at five and head right there, making my way through as many of the various trails as I could before the sun fell on the day.
For those who haven’t had the pleasure: the UW-Madison Arboretum is a 1,200-acre natural area that includes prairies, woodlands, wetlands, savannas, ponds, and even a few landscaped gardens. It’s managed by the University of Wisconsin–Madison and is considered one of the birthplaces of the ecological restoration movement. Since its founding in 1932, it has served as both a living laboratory and a peaceful refuge for the public.
I started going to the Arboretum partly because it was easy to get to. I lived just a few blocks away, so I could walk or drive over quickly whenever I needed a break from the noise of daily life. Located right in the middle of Madison, it felt like an oasis—a quiet, green pocket of calm where the sharp corners of civilization softened.
Photography was a big part of my experience. I always had my trusty Canon digital camera with me. I took photos of butterflies, rabbits, frogs, dragonflies, birds, or captured the way sunlight bounced off wildflowers. The Arboretum was my muse.
Spending a lot of time in the Arb didn’t radically change how I thought about nature, but it opened my eyes to how much wildlife exists right around us—even in urban spaces. There are deer, foxes, owls, and wood ducks, among other things—all within minutes of the city’s downtown. It sometimes felt like this hidden world, just out of sight.
I had days where I got up close to frogs at the Teal Pond, trying to capture just their amazing eyes. Another day, I saw a pileated woodpecker fly right over my head and land in a tree in the marsh. I had never seen one before and didn’t realize how big they were until that moment. There was also a perfect day where I caught monarch butterflies passing through on their migration—dozens of them fluttering in and through the prairie.
For a while, my life was intertwined with the happenings there. The landscape was sort of like a character in my life. I took a lot from the experience, perhaps more than I can put into words, but I’ll try to boil it down.
Takeaway 1: Teach Yourself Some Random Shit—It’s Fun
Visiting the Arboretum on a regular basis reminded me how satisfying it is to pay attention. To observe something closely. To slowly build a little personal knowledge over time. I’m no nature expert, but I started picking up small things.
I developed favorite paths—routes where I’d often see certain animals or catch great light for photos. I got to know where the flowers were most abundant or which corners seemed to attract wildlife.
I started noticing weird little insects, birds, and other creatures that I had never really cared about until they were right in front of me. I learned to tell the difference between types of bees, like the endangered rusty patched bumble bee, which has been observed at the Arboretum and is the first bumble bee in the continental U.S. to be listed as federally endangered.
I couldn’t tell you the name of every bird or bug that I saw—but I could give you a pretty good guess as to where and when to find a lot of them. I knew where some of the animals like cranes and turkeys slept at night. Little things like that made learning feel personal and fun, like I had discovered little secrets just by showing up and paying attention.
Knowing some of these random things had very little application in my life outside of the Arboretum, but that’s beside the point. Being able to learn and be in the know just felt good.
Takeaway 2: Get a Little Muddy, Earn Your Surprises
Of course, learning wasn’t the only thing that kept me coming back. There was also the thrill of discovery.
One of the things I loved most was how often the Arboretum surprised me. There was always something to see. I might come across a herd of turkeys, catch a glimpse of a fox, or deer moving silently through the trees.
Of course, tramping around in nature wasn’t always picture-perfect. I had days where I got stuck halfway through a trail, boots covered in thick mud, with no option but to keep going. There were mosquito-heavy summer days where I slapped myself silly and spent the evening itching my elbows. But even those tougher moments became part of the memory and charm of the place. They made the moments of surprise feel earned.
I learned that there are surprises and treasures everywhere—but you have to go out and find them. You have to fill up your water bottle, tie your shoes tight, and sweat a little bit. You have to show up. The more I did that, the more nature revealed itself—whether it was an unexpected birdcall, a flash of color in the grass, or a moment of stillness.
I remember one evening when I was getting sucked dry by mosquitoes as I was photographing two sandhill cranes tucking themselves in for the night in their favorite pond. It was a particularly nice evening during golden hour. The kind of night where you see nature’s full color palette.
As I was trying to keep the buzzing insects out of my ears and off my skin, I noticed a family of deer tramp into the pond, unsettling the cranes. It was a lovely nature mashup that I never expected to see. It never would have happened if I did not endure some temporary, buggy discomfort.
Takeaway 3: Duh, Nature Is Good for You
I also learned that nature really is restorative to the mind and body. People say that all the time, but I can tell you it’s true—in very specific ways.
Aside from the bug bites, my body always felt better after my nature walks. On days when my back was sore, walking through the Arboretum helped loosen things up and made me feel better overall. It always seemed to align what was unaligned.
Visiting the Arb also felt good emotionally. I tend to be someone whose brain is always going—someone who overthinks and has trouble falling asleep at night. The Arboretum was a place that let me turn my brain off. Walking the trails, scanning for interesting wildlife or flowers was meditative. I could just walk, observe, and focus on the moment.
As someone who can get caught up in the daily wins and losses of work, in office politics, in feeling overlooked or underappreciated, those things started to shrink. They felt more temporary, muted, and small in the grand scheme of things.
My time in the Arboretum helped me let go of things that didn’t matter as much as I thought they did. When you spend enough time among the rhythms of nature—watching the seasons change, noticing what comes and goes—you start to see your own stress differently. That shift in perspective was one of the greatest gifts the Arboretum gave me.
I don’t go to the Arb as much as I once did. I live a bit farther away. I have other responsibilities to juggle. I have a dog to walk (they aren’t allowed in the Arb). But I’ll never forget what that place did for me.
It helped center me. It was a friend when I needed one. It gave me joy, clarity, and calm in a way few places ever have. More than anything, it gave me space to be peaceful, energized, and creative. It was a great time in my life. It’s a place I’ll always be grateful that I found for myself.
CRAIG SAUER is a writer, communicator and former journalist living in Fitchburg, Wis. He enjoys photography in his spare time, primarily focusing on wildlife.
