Guest post by 2% Individual Member, Liz Lynch

You’re likely familiar with the “rocks, pebbles, sand” adage.

The gist of it: a philosophy professor fills a glass jar with rocks and asks their students if the jar is full.

The students say “yes,” so the professor adds pebbles to the jar, shakes it around a bit so the pebbles settle in between the rocks nicely, and when prompted again, the students answer that, yes, the jar is full.

The professor then pours in the sand, shakes it, and the students say, again, the jar is full.

The professor remarks that the rocks are the “big stuff”: friends, family, partnerships, health. The pebbles are the go-betweens, the “have to do” stuff: work, school, paying your bills. Sand is the “small stuff,” whose absence wouldn’t upend your life entirely: household chores, doom-scrolling social media, watching Netflix, most material possessions. The jar, of course, represents your life as a whole.

If you add sand first, you won’t have room for all the rocks, which will leave you feeling somewhat empty, but if you add rocks first and nothing else, you’ll still feel like your proverbial jar is full.

When I calculated my total time and money donated in 2021 – an annual ritual, spurred on by my 2% individual certification – I felt a glow of pride, but not much surprise.

Being a working-class person living in Jackson Hole means I have to plan my giving carefully, along with the rest of my finances.

So, I mete it out following two principles: one, the “rocks, pebbles, sand” mentioned above; two, a quote often misattributed to Teddy Roosevelt, “do what you can, with what you’ve got, where you are.” 

Vis-à-vis a pre-tax income of about $54,000, my donations that went to conservation causes totaled $3317.34.

That’s about 6.16%, but if I’m using my actual take-home as a baseline, it’s more like 12.65%.

It doesn’t include the $1830.91 my friends and Instagram followers raised for 15 different organizations as part of a “3K Giveaway” I did, to celebrate the 3000-follower benchmark—but with an average donation of $34.37, it reflects what my own donations proved to me: there’s power in numbers, however small each number. 

That’s a significant chunk of change.

It’s a reflection of a lot of privileges: I have no dependents, my rent is work-subsidized, and I have relatively little debt compared to national averages, among other things. It’s also a reflection of many repeated choices: that total was comprised of 73 individual donations, with an average donation amount of $45.44.

I don’t have the ability to, say, throw down $30,000 in one go to guarantee myself a Commissioner’s license; I can’t buy trail cameras or radio collars for researchers; even on payment plans, life memberships to my most beloved organizations are out of reach, unless I adjusted my savings strategies for a year.

However, I can spend $50-$100 per paycheck entering raffles, renewing annual memberships, contributing to a GoFundMe to crowdsource funding for a specific issue or project, and help friends’ employing organizations achieve a target for once-annual fundraising challenges (I make annual reminders in my calendar, even, so I know when to hold onto a little bit of extra money).

I do what I can, with what I’ve got, where I am.

It likely goes without saying that hunting has become one of my “big rocks” in life. It’s a significant food source for me, of course, and it’s a hobby in the strictest sense: I do it in my free time because I genuinely enjoy it.

On a deeper level, though, it sits at the center of many things: as something that necessitates a degree of mindfulness, it helps me work with and through my anxiety and depression; it informs what I understand my place in the world to be, including my role in a boundless web of reciprocal gift-giving amongst habitat and other living creatures; it inevitably leads me to other activities I feel fulfilled and uplifted by, ranging from hitting a flow state in the kitchen to connecting with likeminded people (despite my own intense introversion).

“Rocks, pebbles, sand” also comes into play when I reflect on which organizations I gave to the most often.

Those 73 donations mentioned above were doled out to 34 different organizations.

Backcountry Hunters & Anglers is a “rock”: it was the first hunting nonprofit I became a member of due to the alignment in values, but it also guided me through a tough and lonely time in my life, and I’ve poured a lot of time into all things BHA as a volunteer chapter leader for Idaho, previously, and now, Wyoming. BHA received 11 different donations, and of the 93.5 hours of my time I gave last year, 70 of them went to BHA.

Beyond BHA, my conservation “rocks” are:

• Preservation and enhancement of public land and water access, through both grassroots advocacy and political engagement.

• Building equitability and inclusivity in outdoor spaces.

• Science-driven wildlife management.

• Addressing issues and needs within my own community and state. 

Given these priorities, it’s no surprise which groups received the next-greatest amount of funding:

• Six donations to groups specifically dedicated to justice, equity, diversity, and inclusion in the outdoors.

• Six, also, to the Wyoming Wildlife Federation, in large part because their approach to political advocacy complements WY BHA’s grassroots approach, but the priorities we share are the same.

• Seven donations to the Muley Fanatics Foundation, who have done tremendous work directly supporting a variety of academic research on ungulate game species in Wyoming.

• Eight donations to organizations focused specifically on Jackson Hole or Wyoming.

Other organizations reflect “pebble” sized values:

• Supporting friends’ work.

• Supporting species I like hunting.

• Chipping in on large-capital groups.

  • Upland hunting has become a more significant part of my life lately, so my donations to Quail Forever and Pheasants Forever increased to three each. Ditto turkey hunting and donations to National Wild Turkey Federation, also receiving three donations.

  • My values and opinions don’t always overlap with those of Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation, but they do invaluable work when it comes to acquiring land and easements, so they got three donations, too.

  • Rocky Mountain Goat Alliance, Idaho Wildlife Federation, Sporting Lead-Free, and Teddy Roosevelt Conservation Partnership all got donations, too, in part because friends whose work I respect and value deeply are employed by them.

Worth noting here, too: when it comes to conservation organizations, I strongly believe in not letting “perfect” get in the way of “pretty good,” or even “good enough.”

Expecting one organization to always align with all of your opinions perfectly can lead to missed opportunities to support something important; as an alternative to bailing completely, consider giving less, less frequently, or engaging with local leadership to make your concerns heard.

That said, when it comes to disagreements on the “rocks” of your own conservation priorities, or you feel like an organization is not effective in achieving the bottom lines you thought you both agreed on, bailing is always valid. In the United States and Canada, I can say with absolute certainty that we have an embarrassment of riches when it comes to finding conservation organizations to support on the basis of shared values. In fact, 2% has a Community Partner Program for this exact reason!

I can also say with absolute certainty that giving more than the legally mandated bare minimum – i.e., buying the proper licenses and stamps, and purchasing firearms and ammunition with an excise tax involved, if you’re stateside – is well worth it, if for no other reason than how damn good it feels to do a little bit extra for the things you love the most.

Everyone has a special gift they can share and use as a conduit for conservation causes.

Take, for example, my local 2% board member, Erin Wheat: She integrates her lifelong love of National Park Service lands into her work as a photographer and her local conservation passions. Two of my favorite 2% certified brands, Cactus Quoll Creations jewelry and Smile Outside books, also use their artistic talents creatively to bring awareness to conservation causes they care about.

Not great with politics or public speaking? Me either; writing, event planning, and digital communications are more my thing. Gloss over the Business Members list, and you’ll see the countless ways in which folks contribute: a musician who’s a big fan of elk, sheep, and goats, and the places they live; a PR company whose founder adores upland hunting; dog treats from someone who loves birds and the backcountry.

Whichever way you do it, I hope you’ll consider working towards your individual or business 2% for Conservation certification this year, too. Conservation by the numbers adds up much faster than you might think, and the sum total benefits to both you and the wildlife and wild places that enrich our world are invaluable.

Liz Lynch lives in Jackson, WY, and works as a field archaeologist. She can often be "found" enjoying Wyoming's public lands (Wyoming is big, so, good luck!) with her partner Jared Oakleaf and their two bird dogs, Rhiza and Indiana.