What Makes Me Texan by Nature – Savanna Rodriguez
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By Savanna Rodriguez, Texan by Nature Intern
For as long as I can remember happiness looked like being surrounded by family, animal companions close by, and more often than not a fishing pole (or a couple) in hand. I grew up south of San Antonio in Losoya, Texas. Growing up my parents worked hard to provide for me and my older brother. In hindsight, money probably was an issue, (I’ve been thrifting since before it was cool) but I’m sure if you asked me and my brother at the time we would have never known. All we knew was the outdoors, sneaking snakes and bugs inside to scare my mom with, my brother skinning squirrels on the porch, chasing our escaped cow down the medina riverbank, and shooting our first bb guns at cans dangling in front of the dense tree line that fenced our land, as far as we knew life was GOOD. Although I have a squirrel-loving brother, I was without a doubt my dad’s mini-me. We were always outside together tending to chickens, goats, the occasional donkey, anything I could bat my eyes for at the local flea market. My mom swears that the only punishment that worked for me at a young age was being condemned to the house with NO outside time (sounds awful even now). I owe my love for the outdoors to my dad amongst many other things, he is a man of MANY jokes. He is also a man of many envelopes. Envelopes you may be wondering about. Yes, envelopes. That’s how my dad saves his money for fun activities or important endeavors little by little in envelopes stashed in a drawer we let him believe is “secret”. We may have been thrifting our entire wardrobe, but come summer there was a beach picnic table and cooler full of sandwiches with our name on it.
Unbeknownst to me it seems that the picnic table was always near Aransas Pass, Texas. Aransas pass is a small town located right between Rockport and Port Aransas. The locals call it saltwater heaven and we’ve got the catches to prove it. Fast forward a couple of years, my upbringing made me value experiences (and the Texas coast). So, it’s no surprise After graduating from Texas A&M – Kingsville I found myself RVing full-time in Aransas Pass. The thought of a landlocked apartment terrified me and my need for fresh air and sunshine. That longing for sunshine and fresh air, and love for fauna and flora had always drawn me toward the outdoors.
Generations of my family could say the same. I am the family’s memory hoarder, every old box of photos that comes out of storage is coming home with me for sure. My favorite parts of old photos are seeing not only my younger self but generations of my family enjoying the same natural places I did. Another thing generations of my family enjoyed were Texas Country music. What they didn’t enjoy so much was my singing at the top of my lungs. Singing wasn’t the only thing I did loud, I sort of just tend to be loud. My dad would often tell me I was scaring the fish away growing up. As I grew up I often smothered my rather loud personality hoping to appeal more “collected”. Now I realize that my being loud is just the Texan pride within me.
The spirit to share, care and do so in a BIG way. I mean everything’s bigger in Texas right personalities, fish, the number of Texas-themed tattoos my brother can fit on one arm, you name it. Texas is such a special place I find it hard to articulate how being Texan makes you feel like you’re part of something special. Steven Rinella once said I love Texas sure it’s a show-offy state but every time I do look in its direction I’m impressed if you tend to look at things from a woods, water, and wild food perspective as I do Texas Pride starts to make a lot of sense and there’s nothing wrong with pride as long as it leads to a tendency to share the source of that pride rather than hog it and bottle it up. Wanting to share that pride with past and future generations of Texans is one BIG reason that I am Texan by Nature.
After my dad retired from the United States Air Force in 1999, we moved from the tiny island of Okinawa, Japan, to the vast expanse of Texas. As the travel brochures claimed, it was “like a whole other country.” My earliest association with the state was tornadoes. Twister came out in 1996, and I probably shouldn’t have seen it at 5! Later, I came to think of it in terms of flowers—the bluebonnets and Indian paintbrush depicted in the Tomie dePaola books I think every Texan should read at least once, the mountain laurels whose two-week bloom is the highlight of my spring, and of course, the yellow rose.
We settled in Cedar Park when there was little more to the city than trees. My siblings and I went on all kinds of adventures in the wilderness across the street from our house, which we later learned was host to a network of limestone caves. Once, we took backpacks of snacks and a sheet my mom probably didn’t notice we’d squirreled out of the house and set off to create our own post-apocalyptic campsite in the woods based on a reality show we’d been watching. We took our overprotective dachshund, Ella, as our guard dog, but she wasn’t particularly good at stealth and ended up barking at all the wildlife.
I learned to do life outdoors as a Girl Scout in central Texas. My troop leaders taught me how to pitch a tent and make hot cocoa on a camp stove, which are likely the two most important things you should know if you’re camping in Texas in the early winter. Through my scouting affiliation, I was certified with the U.S. Canoe Association on canoes and kayaks at Camp Texlake. I’ve camped at a few sites in central Texas, but my favorite place has always been Inks Lake. The shenanigans and hijinks of a half-dozen middle and high school-aged girls aside, Inks Lake was the first place I’d ever been able to look up into a dark sky so clear that I could see the Milky Way. The stars at night are big and bright, indeed.
I am and always have been both a historian and a bookworm. I majored in history at Baylor University and loved it so much I stayed to earn my master’s degree in museum studies. As a graduate student, I was deeply impressed by Freeman Tilden’s poetic prose and passion for historic and environmental conservation in Interpreting Our Heritage. Texas is the perfect place to put Tilden’s lessons into practice—you just can’t tell the history of this place without talking about its natural resources.
Since then, to quote Stephen F. Austin, “my health and strength and time have gone into the service of Texas.” It hasn’t always been easy, but I’ve always been able to find peace in nature. I came across the Balcones Canyonlands Wildlife Preserve purely by accident during one of the most difficult periods of my life, and the time I spent wandering the hiking trails pretending to be a Hobbit and admiring the view of the Hill Country from the sunset deck was truly therapeutic. I even briefly contemplated moving out of state, but ultimately, I couldn’t face the prospect of living somewhere without bluebonnets (or H-E-B).
At the end of the day, it’s fair to say that I am Texan By Nature because somewhere over the last 20+ years, I grew roots in Texas, and Texas grew roots in me.
Texas has a magnetic quality about it. From the ancient and nomadic People of Pecos to the first Anglo-American settlers, for thousands of years people have been drawn to Texas’ pristine waters, fertile soil, and natural abundance. I am another of those wanderers who found myself in Texas, saw what it had to offer, and decided to call it home.
Throughout my childhood, I lived many places, but nature was a constant. I was born in the Rocky Mountains, sailed through my summers on Lake Michigan, spent endless hours exploring the white beaches and barrier islands of the Florida Gulf Coast, and came of age fly-fishing the rivers of lower Appalachia. My grandmother, who dedicated much of her life to protecting the Indiana Dunes long before they gained national recognition, taught me the basics of gardening, the ecological significance of indigenous plants, the importance of the “leave no trace” ethic, and the necessity for ecosystem management. My dad, a hunter and fisherman who grew up in the wilderness of North Georgia, believed without qualification in the essential role of sportsmen in preserving wild spaces, managing wildlife, and being a conscious steward of the land. Due to both of their influences, I’ve always felt like my connection to nature was one of the defining characteristics of my life.
In college, I focused my studies on urban development, the complex vulnerabilities of populations in sub-Saharan Africa, and community-led solutions for change and development. Upon graduation from West Point, I became a Military Intelligence officer and dedicated the next several years towards issues of national security and dominance in the great power competition, working both in Afghanistan and at home.
Eventually, my military career brought me to San Antonio, and this is where my relationship with Texas began.
Soon after I moved here, my (now) husband and I decided upon the goal of visiting all 88 Texas State Parks and Natural Areas. Along our travels, I became enamored by this unique and diverse land, which abounds with beauty from the tall, dense forests of the Pineywoods to the karst wonderlands of Hill County, from the Trans-Pecos’ vast deserts and immense skies to the dramatic landscapes of the High Plains’ caprock canyons. I also fell in love with the vibrance of the cities— seemingly always illuminated with festivities— and the convergence of cultures that brings with it diversity of experience, thought, (and fantastic food). Additionally, I began to foster a deep appreciation for the less glamorous parts of Texas, those small ranching and refinery towns around which Texas’ economy— and that of the United States—relies.
As I pursue a direction for the next chapter of my life, service is still at the forefront of my mind. But I find myself wanting to plant roots, too, and Texas feels like home in a way that no other place ever has. I also find myself drawn back to my relationship with nature and aware of the immediacy of issues related to our limited and threatened natural resources. Our nation will face many challenges at the nexus of climate change, energy independence, and national security in the coming decades, and I believe that Texas has a critical role in shaping our collective future.
Wildlife and nature are central to the unique culture and history of Louisiana and Texas. It is a large part of who I am, and that’s what makes me Texan by Nature. When I was a little girl, I lived on this short, dead-end street. The end of the street opens up into Bayou 
However, my fascination and love for Austin and Texas have grown exponentially during my five years here. Austin is my new home! Its entrepreneurial spirit is carefully balanced with a beautiful and diverse natural landscape, like the canyon waterfall at Westcave. I love finding new nature spots nestled within the bustling metropolitan area. Last summer, my mom, younger sister, and I rented a one night stay at a tiny, eco-friendly treehouse in Spicewood, Texas, just outside of Austin.
In the history and literature I studied, I learned not only the ways human cultures connect to nature and natural resources, but also how failure to conserve natural resources and failure to consider sustainability in business models threatens the environment, human rights, and the economy. It was evident that exploitation and mismanagement of resources were at the core of many regional and global crises, from military conflicts to water shortages. These realizations expanded my view of conservation and the impacts it can have, and I wanted in on this world-saving work.
