Christine Barnes is a resident of Northfield and a volunteer at St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge. The refuge is an outdoor lab. What plays out before my eyes and ears each day often affirms my understanding of the order and structure in the natural world. And often my observations call to question what I believe, may re-shape it in some way, or may create a new puzzle. For instance:

A flock of blackbirds in a tree leaves no doubt about their presence: the cacophony is noteworthy. Then, silence. One bird leaves, then three, then five or six, and the remaining birds rise in flight as one from the tree, and follow the others to a new location. Or not.

The ducks on the pond are pre-occupied with whatever is on the bottom, and they dip and dive repeatedly. I bicycle into their space on a nearby path, and at first, only a few lift from the water, but quickly the others follow and bank away from the perceived threat. Or not.

Along the refuge path, first one head pops up, then another, and another. First one tail, then another, flashes bright white, and on a dime the four deer wheel away into the safety of the woods. Most often. If I happened to threaten a fawn, some might have stood their ground in defense, prepared to fight.

Sometimes in these situations, not all members of the flock or herd respond, and the few that leave return to the safety of the group. In each case, there appears to be a critical mass, or a minimum number of critters required to begin or maintain a venture. If there is not a critical mass, the venture is not successful.

All around us, the animal world shares in fight/flight, the chemically-driven brain response to stress in the environment. The birds and animals often depend on each other for survival: after all, many eyes are better than a mere pair.

We're part of the animal kingdom: how does all this impact us? In humans, the fight-flight response has dimmed over time. With our ability to reason and make judgments, we may view threats as greatly diminished, and may choose to delay response, or not to respond at all. If we are in denial and judge incorrectly, we might find the threat is real and challenging. We may suffer disappointment, loss, pain, or even die. We suppress the chemistry at our own risk.

If we judge correctly, and no threat materializes, we stay in the tree with our comrades. We have experienced only some degree of stress, and have not upset the entire applecart in a dramatic reaction to nothing. We brush ourselves off and move on.

Research tells us that the more control we believe we have in our lives, the better we can cope with the stress triggered by a threat, real or perceived. And in a time when many of us feel out of control of the world around us (picture the war, your mortgage, the economy, our jobs, your bank account, climate change, your teenage son or daughter, your health, water and oil resources, to name a few), we need to search hard to find some things we can control. And guess what? Maybe, just maybe, we can't go it alone. Maybe we need a critical mass.

Perhaps the truth lies somewhere in the middle, between denial and taking flight. Here's another scenario: we perceive a threat to our well-being. We choose not to deny it, but instead, choose to react with caution and reflection. We choose to fight, but not alone. We choose to engage our analytic abilities, and to join with others who also perceive a threat. Thoughtfully, we begin to form some theories, which in turn lead to creative solutions. We gather more people to confirm and validate our thinking, or to help reframe it. Additional people bring new perspective and fresh, objective thinking to our plight. We reach out more, and more. Now, there are many eyes and ears, many brains. There is synergy. We have reached a critical mass. The mere fact of not being so alone brings a sense of comfort and relief, and at least a perception that we are more in control. We are, after all, in this together, all together on Spaceship Earth.

So how smart are we, really? Do we look to each other, need each other, use each other, stay engaged with each other until we reach a critical mass, and then fly as one? Or to we continue to tussle and bicker and puff up in arrogant self-importance while the ship goes down? We can choose to go separately in each individual hole-ridden life raft, or we can figure this out and paddle against the current to safety. Which will it be???