Mark Brown is a dedicated outdoorsman and conservation educator living in Waverly, Waterloo, and Cedar Falls, Iowa. Now in his early 50s, Mark has spent decades exploring the natural beauty of northeastern Iowa and helping others better understand their environment. He is known for his extensive knowledge of tree and plant identification, as well as his hands-on skills in mushroom hunting, fishing, woodworking, and wildlife tracking.
Mark’s love of the outdoors has inspired countless community members through guided nature walks, educational talks, and volunteer planting efforts. Whether he’s teaching how to identify native species or sharing sustainable foraging practices, Mark approaches every interaction with patience and passion.
Beyond Iowa, Mark has traveled across the U.S., visiting dozens of national parks to study regional landscapes, history, and biodiversity. His background in American history and geography enriches his storytelling and lends depth to the environmental programs he leads at home.
An active member of his local church, Mark believes in giving back through service, mentorship, and education. He frequently volunteers with youth groups, teaching basic outdoor skills and emphasizing the values of self-reliance and respect for nature.
In addition to his conservation work, Mark is a long-time wrestling fan and mentor, often found supporting local tournaments or guiding young athletes. He sees wrestling as a sport that mirrors life—requiring discipline, resilience, and heart.
Grounded in faith, driven by curiosity, and committed to his community, Mark Brown continues to be a trusted voice for environmental awareness, outdoor education, and Iowa pride. His work reflects a life deeply connected to the land and devoted to preserving it for future generations.
You’ve spent much of your life exploring northeastern Iowa. What is it about this region that keeps you so connected?
Northeastern Iowa has a rhythm that speaks to me. There’s something grounding about walking through a prairie at sunrise or hearing the wind move through the cottonwoods near Cedar Falls. These landscapes aren’t just beautiful—they hold stories, memories, and meaning. I’ve fished these rivers, tracked deer through these woods, and watched seasons shift in subtle, spectacular ways. There’s richness in the small things here: the texture of bark, the movement of a fox at dawn, the quiet after a snowfall. This land shaped me, and in many ways, I see it as part of my purpose to give back to it.
You’re known as someone who blends practical outdoor skills with deep ecological knowledge. How did you develop that balance?
It wasn’t something I set out to master—it happened naturally. I’d go on a hike and want to know what tree I was walking under, then I’d want to understand the soil it grew in, the wildlife it supported. At the same time, I’ve always believed in being hands-on. It’s one thing to read about mushroom hunting and another to forage responsibly, understand the risks, and honor the process. I think the balance comes from years of experience—both in the field and in listening to others. You learn by doing, but you also learn by paying attention and staying humble.
How do you see your role when you’re leading a nature walk or teaching a class?
I see myself as a bridge. A lot of people come into these experiences feeling like outsiders to nature—they’re worried about saying the wrong thing, stepping on the wrong plant, or just not “getting it.” My job is to take down those barriers. Whether I’m with kids in a classroom or adults on a trail, I want them to feel invited into a conversation with the land. I’m not there to lecture—I’m there to listen, point things out, and help them form their own relationship with the natural world. That’s when learning sticks—when it’s personal.
You travel to national parks across the U.S. What lessons do you bring home to Iowa from those experiences?
National parks are like living textbooks—each one teaches something different. When I visited the Everglades, I learned about fragility. In the Rockies, I saw resilience. These parks remind me that conservation is not just about preservation—it’s about understanding. I come home from these trips with a deeper appreciation for Iowa’s ecosystems, even if they aren’t as flashy. We have our own stories here, our own biodiversity worth protecting. Seeing the big picture nationally helps me think more clearly about what we can do locally—how we can protect, restore, and appreciate what we have right here in Cedar Valley.
You often connect your faith to your conservation work. How do those values align in your life?
To me, faith and conservation are part of the same calling. I believe we’re stewards of the Earth—entrusted with the care of something bigger than ourselves. When I walk through a forest or see a hawk circling overhead, I’m reminded of the Creator’s hand in everything. That sense of wonder fuels both my faith and my desire to preserve what’s sacred. When I speak at my church or lead youth retreats, I often quote scripture that ties back to land stewardship. It’s not about politics—it’s about values: humility, gratitude, responsibility. Those are values I try to live out every day.
You’ve taught a lot of youth through outdoor skills workshops. What’s the most rewarding part of mentoring young people?
The moment when you see a spark—that’s the reward. Maybe it’s a kid identifying a tree on their own for the first time, or catching a fish, or setting up a tent without help. You can literally see their confidence grow. I especially love when they start asking their own questions, getting curious beyond the checklist. Teaching kids outdoor skills isn’t just about survival—it’s about awakening a connection. And in today’s world, where screens dominate and attention spans are short, helping kids find focus and joy in nature feels more important than ever.
You’re also a passionate wrestling supporter. What draws you to the sport, and how does it connect with your other work?
Wrestling has always resonated with me because it’s about grit, discipline, and resilience—qualities I admire and try to cultivate in my own life. I wrestled in high school, and though I didn’t go far competitively, I took the mindset with me. I still volunteer at tournaments and help coach young wrestlers when I can. There’s something pure about the sport—no shortcuts, no one to blame but yourself, and no easy wins. That mentality carries over into conservation and teaching. You have to show up, work hard, take responsibility, and keep going even when things get tough.
With so much experience, how do you keep learning and growing in your work?
Curiosity is my fuel. I don’t think I’ve ever gone on a walk without learning something—even if it’s small. Maybe I notice a pattern in tree bark I hadn’t seen before or hear a bird call I can’t quite place. I also read constantly—old field guides, new ecological studies, anything that expands my understanding. And I learn a lot from the people I meet. Someone will tell me a story about how their grandmother used to forage or how a specific tree reminded them of home—that’s learning too. I try to stay open, because the moment you stop learning, you start drifting.
What’s a moment in your career that reaffirmed why you do what you do?
There was a day a few years back when I was leading a group of fifth graders on a field walk near Waverly. It was muddy, they were restless, and I wasn’t sure anything I said was sinking in. But a week later, one of the teachers emailed me a drawing one of the students had made—a tree, labeled with all the parts we’d talked about, with a note that said, “I want to learn more about trees so I can help the Earth.” That got me. It reminded me that even when it feels small or unnoticed, the work matters.
What’s next for you—personally or professionally—in this next chapter of life?
I’m at a point where I want to invest even more in legacy work. That means continuing to grow the “Iowa Wild Roots” initiative and working with more churches and schools to create native gardens and learning spaces. I’d also like to finish a book I’ve been drafting—a blend of storytelling, field notes, and reflections on faith and land. Personally, I just want to stay healthy, stay curious, and keep showing up. Whether it’s guiding a hike, mentoring a young wrestler, or planting trees, I want to keep doing the work that connects people to the land—and to each other.