On a recent trip to Mexico City, I marveled at some small, speckled Inca doves, which are almost as common as pigeons in the United States. Nearby, grackles bathed their long, gorgeous blue-black tails in a fountain. Ever since I got the Merlin Bird ID app, my partner has become accustomed to my stopping midwalk, pausing the conversation, and holding up my phone to catch a bit of birdsong or do a step-by-step visual search. Ideally I add a new species to my “life list” in the process. Do my interruptions sometimes annoy my partner, and my friends and family? Probably. But are they learning about birds? Yes!

I have attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), and it’s much easier for me to pay attention when I’ve got something to do with my hands, eyes, or body. Moving around a little, watching the birds, taking note of which plants are in bloom—those extra stimuli are just what I need to tune in. When I sit still, it’s easy for me to lose focus. People with ADHD or who are on the autism spectrum—neurodivergent folks, in current parlance—often talk about living in a world that isn’t designed for us. We regularly experience being out of step with neurotypical workplaces, schools, and social settings, and we struggle to adapt or mask our differences.

The natural world, on the other hand, can be a balm and a refuge for the neurodivergent, providing spaces in which the constant, invisible work of fitting in and seeking accommodations is put on pause. Animals don’t care if you’re on time. Trees aren’t offended if you get excited about something and interrupt them. A meadow doesn’t get in your personal space unless you want it to. Those of us who are neurodivergent are prone to boredom and crave stimulation, so we can’t help but notice that flicker of feathers in a tree. Then we need to find out what kind of feathers they might be.

Animals don’t care if you’re on time. Trees aren’t offended if you get excited about something and interrupt them. A meadow doesn’t get in your personal space unless you want it to.

There’s more than boredom behind my birding: Studies show that neurodivergent people have a strong response to the natural world. A 2024 review of recent research in the International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health affirmed that “exposure to nature is associated with reduced ADHD diagnoses and symptom severity” in school-age children. If spending time outdoors isn’t an option, increasing the presence of plants, water, and natural light indoors can be beneficial. Studies on nature-based interventions for kids on the autism spectrum are similarly positive in their findings. Natural environments help with recovery from “attention fatigue,” which affects many people nowadays but can be particularly acute for those with ADHD. One study showed that impulsivity and hyperactivity are less pronounced in kids with ADHD who live in apartments with “relatively green views.” That’s right: Simply seeing nature helps.

Just as biodiversity is crucial for the health of ecosystems, neurodiversity is increasingly viewed as a helpful type of natural variation, rather than a disorder. Because of that revelation, neurodiversity is having its cultural moment.

The World Economic Forum has argued that neurodiversity can bring diverse types of problem-solving to the pressing issue of climate change and that neuro-inclusive urban planning benefits the environment and society, encouraging green space and discouraging sound pollution and overcrowding. Climate activists Greta Thunberg and Chris Packham have spoken openly about how their neurodiversity is innately connected to their activism, with Packham pointing to “an aggravated sense of injustice and a deep-rooted desire to tell the absolute truth” as a common autistic quality shared by activists. 

Thunberg and Packham are not alone; more environmental leaders, scientists, and writers have embraced their neurodivergence, including Oliver Sacks and Temple Grandin. Jane Goodall has prosopagnosia, or face blindness, which is often associated with neurodivergence, and Einstein, Newton, and Darwin are now widely believed to have been neurodivergent. On the online community-science platform iNaturalist, one of the most popular projects is Neurodivergent Naturalists. Inspired by a 2020 forum post, the project now has nearly 3,000 members who self-identify as neurodivergent. They have collectively logged more than 4 million observations of flowers and beetles, songbirds and fungi.

Along with a growing public awareness of neurodivergence has come increased accommodation and accessibility. Environmental organizations have been a big part of this change. The National Park Service Access Pass provides free entry for “US citizens or permanent residents with permanent disabilities”—both ADHD and autism spectrum disorder (ASD) qualify. The nonprofit Birdability “works to ensure the birding community and the outdoors are welcoming, inclusive, safe, and accessible for everybody.” It offers guidelines for creating birding trails in locations that minimize nearby noise and provide opportunities for sensory exploration. In collaboration with the National Audubon Society, Birdability has created a searchable map of accessible trails in the United States. There are now 12 all-inclusive trails maintained by Mass Audubon. The number of monthly visitors at the Manchester Cedar Swamp Preserve in New Hampshire has increased dramatically since its All Persons Trail opened in 2022.

It’s no surprise that neurodivergence is more common in nature-related fields than in others. Scientists theorize that ADHD was once an evolutionary advantage, helping early humans forage more effectively, and indeed, neurodivergence can bring skills that are extremely helpful when advocating for, interacting with, and learning about the natural world. For example, people with ADHD and ASD tend to be very good at identifying visual patterns, have an exceptional ability to hyperfocus on what interests us for extended periods, and go completely overboard with our interests and obsessions, often learning everything there is to know about a specific subject. In an informal poll in 2023, writer and sustainability expert Solitaire Townsend, who is autistic, asked people working in sustainability-related fields if they identified as neurodivergent. Fifty-seven percent of her respondents said yes—a much higher proportion than the current estimate of 15 to 20 percent of the general population.

Literary and on-screen representations of neurodivergence have become more common as public awareness has grown—we’ve come a long way since Rain Man. In the Amy Schumer TV series Life & Beth, Michael Cera plays an organic farmer who slowly discovers that he is autistic. The Max series Hacks features the impulsive and hilarious Ava, a character played by Hannah Einbinder, who has spoken about her own ADHD. One of the most popular posts on novelist Rebecca Makkai’s Substack, SubMakk, is “I Wrote Five Books With ADHD.” Milkweed Editions’ Multi-verse is a new book series centered on and curated by neurodivergent writers. One of these is Aster of Ceremonies by poet JJJJJerome Ellis, who engages with neurodiversity through the natural world, in particular through plant names: 

Instead of “I speak with a stutter,” what if I “advertised” to someone by saying: “I speak with an Aster. My speech is home to a hundred blooms. These silences you may hear hold more than I could ever know. Thank you for your patience as I pause to admire their beauty.”

The way Ellis claims difference—makes it visible without apology—resonates with me. It isn’t always easy to be openly neurodivergent, particularly in professional spaces, where difference can be seen as a vulnerability. In many fields, it still seems safer to keep neurodifference undercover by “masking” to fit in—a significant but unseen effort. Given that neurodiversity has real value, particularly in efforts to document, engage with, and protect the natural world, imagine if it were truly OK to be openly neurodivergent in science, in creative fields, in politics? It might just let us use our skills and talents, our “hundred blooms,” for the greatest possible benefit to all.