“I used to know but I’m not sure now
What I was made for
What was I made for?”Billie Eilish, What Was I made For?
Have you ever wondered why tree leaves are the shape and color they are? Or why the largest animals mostly live in cold climates? Everything in nature has a reason for being the color, shape, and size that it is. This particular field of study is called ecology. Once you begin to view the details of the world through this lens, it becomes truly remarkable.
Take leaves, for example. A basswood leaf is broad and thin, almost heart-shaped, designed to capture as much sunlight as possible during the growing season. Its flat surface functions like a solar panel, maximizing photosynthesis in the dappled light of a Minnesota summer. In contrast, red pine needles are slender and waxy. Their narrow shape reduces water loss and prevents heavy snow from piling up and snapping branches in winter. Even color has purpose: the deep green of summer signals chlorophyll hard at work, while the blaze of reds and golds in fall reveals pigments that were there all along, helping trees recover nutrients before the long freeze.
And what about those large northern animals — moose, elk, even polar bears? In cold climates, being big is an advantage. Larger bodies retain heat more efficiently because they have less surface area relative to their volume. Thick fur, layers of fat, and compact extremities all help conserve warmth. Size, shape, and color are not random. They are elegant, time-tested responses to the demands of place.
Or consider the walleye, one of the most iconic fish in northern lakes. Its cloudy, reflective eyes aren’t just distinctive, they are specialized for low light. A layer of cells behind the retina reflects light back through the eye, giving it that glassy glow. This adaptation allows walleye to hunt efficiently at dawn, dusk, and in deeper or stained waters where light is limited. Their golden-olive coloring blends into sandy or rocky lake bottoms, giving them camouflage as they wait to ambush prey. The walleye isn’t just a fish in the lake; it is finely tuned to the lake’s light.
Humans, too, are shaped by their habitat. There’s a reason we feel what we feel. A reason for what we are good at and what we are drawn to. Even how we dress, style our hair, or choose what we eat reflects layers of influence. We are shaped by both nature and nurture, our genetics and our environments, by climate and culture, by family systems and landscapes, by what was required of us and what was celebrated in us.
Getting to know yourself is a bit like studying ecology. You begin to ask not, What’s wrong with me? but rather, What conditions shaped me? What strengths helped me survive? What traits helped me belong? What colors did I develop to blend in, and which ones are uniquely mine? Just as every species carries adaptations for its habitat, each of us carries patterns that made sense in our particular ecosystem.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about where my own love for science, music, and sports came from. I can see the roots clearly. On the nature side, my Grandpa was a doctor. His life was steeped in curiosity, precision, and the discipline of observation. On the nurture side, I grew up in and around Leech Lake. My mom wasn’t afraid to touch worms, leeches, or fish. Because she handled them without hesitation, I learned they weren’t gross or scary, they were fascinating. Lakes became places of wonder instead of discomfort. That small environmental cue contributed to me pursuing lake biology as a career.
Music followed a similar pattern. My Grandma was a singer, performing at church and weddings. That thread of melody runs in my DNA. But it was also nurtured through church choirs, school concerts, and Beatles records spinning in our living room. Music wasn’t just something we listened to; it was something we lived with. I fell in love with it early, and it has never left me.
Being in sports in school gave me confidence and the ability to push through discomfort. It also helped me meet people when I moved towns and went to college. The cross country and track teams were my adapted colors that allowed me to blend in.
When I step back and look at it ecologically, my life makes more sense. Science, music, and sports are not random interests. They are responses to the waters and woods, the people and places, that shaped me. And that realization is in its own way, remarkable.
If you were to look at your own life through this same lens of nature and nurture, what traits, passions, or patterns would suddenly begin to make sense?
Moriya Rufer is a lake biologist with 20 years experience working with and loving lakes in northern Minnesota.
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