Field Investigation Career

Dana Alan Eastwood

This is a photograph of me at age five when I began field investigation work by spending long hours alone in the woods, marshes, and farmlands of the East Park area of Hyde Park, New York.

Those investigations laid the groundwork that eventually led me to understand the Language of Nature that I learned firsthand as it spoke in its native tongue: the movement of the leaves, the running of creek waters over rock, the variations of temperature and humidity, the distribution of flora, and the squawking, screeching, growling, humming, and croaking of creatures I encountered in that then alien environment that studied me with equal intensity (including the girl with the tire-swing who lived down the road).

Years later, in the mid-1960’s, I served full-time as volunteer field investigator for the National Investigations Committee on Aerial Phenomena (NICAP) accompanying Subcommittee Four Chairman William Donovan on both daytime and all-night excursions during the most exciting period of civilian-assisted UFO research and investigation in history. Some of our reports were made directly to Major Donald E. Keyhoe (Ret). Those reports remain classified to this day.


2 Responses to “Field Investigation Career”

  1. Stark Raven Says:

    Seems like an idyllic childhood. Do you miss it?

  2. PluribusOne™ Says:

    Yes, I have sentimental recollections, vivid memories, but I never lost that connection with Nature, not even during the fifteen years I lived in an urban environment. Almost every day during that time, I took at least an hour to go out into the country with my motorcycle or VW convertible. In the winter, I often walked to and from work so I could feel the mountains and river rather than just see them through the windshield of my car. My home for the first twenty-three years of my life, and for the past twenty-seven, has been in the country, close to Nature. My home and office borders on three-hundred acres of undeveloped land and the house is in the woods, at the end of a long driveway, so I’m surrounded by Nature most of the time. The truth is: I have spent much more time alone in the woods than Henry David Thoreau, whose work I admire.

    I never lost touch with the child within me. In fact, just recently, dark clouds moved in as I was finishing mowing my lawn. I put the mower away and rain started to fall. Thunder got progressively louder, and lightning flashed in the clouds. There was so much electricity in the air that it tripped the pond pump’s Ground Fault Interrupter. As Nature’s dramatic show began, I took a seat on the fence. The grass suddenly began displaying a pulsating shimmer. My lawn is not a perfect carpet of grass, yet I could see that the energy pattern beneath its “skin” is a perfect continuous geometric design, a multidimensional weave of shades of bright green—the spirit of grass. That’s how I see the human spirit: a perfect state of being that’s perceived imperfectly as just flesh and blood.

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