Posts Tagged ‘Conservation’
Balancing the needs of endangered species that can damage human property and the people that own the property is quite the trick — one that hasn’t exactly been figured out yet. Ranchers call the conservationists arrogant hippies, conservationists call the ranchers heartless and selfish.
And as with so many of the battles in our species, it all comes down to property — who has right to the land? I think it’s a particularly interesting facet of the right-to-property debate because it really is so easy to understand where each side is coming from, especially as an outsider, while such squabbles (or wars) within our own species get complicated very quickly.
This short video by Jeffrey Mittelstadt, a UNC master’s student in documentary journalism, does a great job articulating the argument between the two “sides” by interviewing a rancher and a government worker working to protect the Florida Panther. You can read an interview with him as well.
Hat tip to Jason Goldman
As long as we’re considering human nature in terms of how we treat one another this new year, we may as well consider how we treat other species. That is, conservation.
Once you start thinking about Homo sapiens as just another organism competing for resources, traditional views about conservation start to crumble. We’re raised, once again in anthropocentrism, believing that it is our job to take care of the planet. But if we’re competing, who really cares what we destroy along the way? Is it not just part of evolution, of natural selection and survival of the fittest?
I have a lot of thoughts on this matter, but I’d like to point you all to a post by Andrew Thaler of Southern Fried Science. As a biologist studying hydrothermal vents, he often wrestles with the question of, “who cares? Why should we save hydrothermal vents?” In his post, he really gets down to the thick of it, the point that gets to me every time: we evolved behavior to care about the environment.
What makes us truly unique is not our ability to destroy, but our ability to conserve. No other species in the history of the planet has recognized the inherent value in another species, not as a resource, food source, or substrate, but simply as another living organism. No other species has expended its own resources, its own precious energy, to protect another, simply for the sake of the other species existence. No other species has ever planned and implemented an initiative to bring a species back from the brink of extinction. As certain as humanity’s ability to destroy has driven countless species to extinction, it is our unique and, frankly, unnatural desire to preserve and protect species and ecosystems for purely altruistic reasons that defines us.
Read the full post here.
It has been ingrained in all of us that these are fearsome facts, that the very low population of a species means they are close to extinction (and with good reason). But when you think about what this means – that a smaller population is less able to recover and grow in size – it doesn’t make perfect sense at first. A small population should have more resources available for each individual because there is less competition within the species. Additionally, there should be overall less predation on a lower population because, in a simplified model, this population will support fewer predators, and the predators are less likely to preferentially seek out a scarce animal in favor of other prey. (For a primer on population ecology, check out this one I wrote up here.) Why shouldn’t the animals be able to reproduce and increase the size of their population?
Despite these caveats, we see the pattern repeat itself: when a population of a species gets small enough, it seems to get stuck there, unable to recover its numbers. Instead, it continues to shrink.
What is the cause of this? In the 1930s to 1950s, an ecologist named Warder Cylde Allee described what was known afterwards as the Allee effect, this pattern of a decrease in the per capita reproductive rate in a species when the population gets to be too small. Of course, “too small” is a variable number depending on the species and its life history traits, such as feeding preferences, natural range, and social behavior.
This is a notably difficult theory to study because it requires a foresight that we lack. Identifying a species that is already at a critically low population isn’t enough. To provide evidence for the Allee effect, scientists need to identify a threatened population before it becomes threatened in order to collect data on its range, foraging behavior, and social activity, and compare these data to similar traits when the population has gotten “too small.” But if we had this sort of foresight, we hopefully would put in enough effort to prevent the population from dropping in the first place.
I am sorry to report that such a species has been identified, one that is on the brink of extinction: the Vancouver Island Marmot. This large rodent (5-7 kg! 70 cm long!) is geographically restricted to Vancouver Island, and evolved rapidly after its arrival after glacial retreat 10,000 years ago. It is an herbivore and lives in large burrowing colonies. The cause of their population drop (from 300 animals in the 1980s to 25 (25!) in 2001) is not entirely clear, but is thought to be associated with increased logging. A possible cause is that the clearcut forest from logging looked like prime meadow for setting up colonies, but the quick regrowth of these forests uprooted the colonies, scattering the animals.
A clear Allee effect in this population is shown in the figure below, from a study by Justin Brashares (UC Berkeley), Jeffery Werner (UBC) and A. Sinclair (UBC) in the September 2010 issue of the Journal of Animal Ecology. At the right side of the curve, decreases in Vancouver Island marmot population size resulted in a higher per capita reproductive rate. But at a certain threshold (around 200 marmots), the curve turns downward, with a decreasing reproductive rate with decreasing population size. This Allee effect is so evident from these data that I may as well have copied this figure from a population ecology textbook.
The authors wanted to explore what changes in the marmots’ behavior caused this decrease in reproductive rate. What exactly prevents these animals from reproducing effectively and recovering their population? They collected data on the marmots’ activity budgets (where they spent their time) for comparison with a similar set of data from the 1970s. They also used similar marmot species for comparison, as they only diversified 10,000 years ago.
They first looked at the modern home ranges of the marmots compared to other closely related species. As they are colonial animals, marmots don’t frequently leave their burrow, and do so on a daily basis only to forage. Males will leave to seek mates at other burrows, but historically burrows have been very dense and thus the males would not have to travel far. As shown in the figure below, the Vancouver Island marmots have a modern range ten times larger than any other social marmot species. This increase in travel and distance from their colony increases their exposure to predators, as they no longer have the alarm calls and protection of their colony. The authors hypothesize that the marmots have increased their range due to a lack of mates nearby. Thus the very process of increasing their reproductive rate is hindered because they cannot find mates, and when they go looking, are more likely to be killed by predators or get lost in unfamiliar territory.
The authors also observed drastic changes in their social behavior. Compared to historical Vancouver Island marmot behavior and that of other related species, the modern population spends far more time on watch for predators (nearly two-thirds of their above-ground time!), as predator populations have increased since the 1970s. But despite these efforts, far fewer alarm calls were heard per animal, indicating that there are still not enough animals to properly stand watch for the colony. By spending so much time on watch, they lose time for feeding, risking starvation, and forcing them to go into hibernation later, risking freezing to death. Time in the burrow also increased, perhaps in an attempt to hide from predators and rest from the constant vigilance and lack of energy from decreasing foraging.
It’s a sad picture these authors have shown us. These social rodents are travelling far distances alone in search of a mate, and spend most of their active time watching for predators instead of foraging for themselves and their offspring. So hungry! So cold! And despite all this effort, their reproductive rate continues to drop! Is there any hope?
The hope we have is in reintroduction programs. The idea is that if we are able to successfully breed large numbers of marmots in captivity and raise them so that they can be reintroduced properly, we can increase the population to a suitable level that these animals are able to find mates and start reproducing again. The Vancouver Island Marmot Foundation has a recovery plan and has been working to reintroduce the animals, which it has been able to do successfully. (You can see their recovery plan on their website.)
I have long been a critic of zoos because I didn’t see how their conservation benefits outweighed the impacts of captivity on the animals kept there. But this is why they are important. The key is to keep a certain wildness in the animals so that, if their population does drop low enough to show an Allee effect, we have some hope for adding more animals to the population to help save the endangered species.
Brashares, J., Werner, J., & Sinclair, A. (2010). Social ‘meltdown’ in the demise of an island endemic: Allee effects and the Vancouver Island marmot Journal of Animal Ecology, 79 (5), 965-973 DOI: 10.1111/j.1365-2656.2010.01711.x
Never thought I’d actually get around to a Pt. 2, eh? Well, I’ve shown you! Here’s the first part: Inevitability and Oil, Pt. 1: the inherent risk for accidents in complex technology
For decades now economists and scientists have predicted the “end of oil:” the day when we use up our oil reserves, potentially resulting in economic collapse, starvation, chaos, you know, the apocalypse, whatever. It’s a strange science – part speculative geology (if you can imagine such a thing!), part economic theory, and at least 2 parts anxiety.
Why is the “end of oil” such a problem? It is well summarized in Wolfgang Haber’s 2007 leading article in Environmental Science and Pollution Research: our dependence on fossil fuels is an “ecological trap.” While it is easy to consider our species as above competition, as we now dominate the planet, we have reached this state as simple organisms trying to out-compete others and maintain (and expand) our own population.
How did we do this so successfully? First of all, we are the only organism (as far as I know) that obtains energy from an external source: that is, through fire. Our ability to burn various substrates (initially wood, moving onto fossil fuels such as coal and oil later) allowed us to expand our range and create accessibility to new food sources through cooking. Thus the first ecological trap: to maintain our current population, we need to have something to burn. Forests and wood are sustainable to a point, but with our current population, we’d go through our reserves pretty quickly.
According to Haber, the second major “ecological trap” is farming. The switch from hunting and gathering to agriculture created a human dependence on soil (easily nutrient-depleted by farming itself) as well as space devoted to farming. Once again, the advent of large-scale agriculture allowed our population to boom, and created a niche for people who don’t need to work – such as scholars – but now we are wholly dependent upon outside food. Could you forage for yourself if needed?
And thus, while our species has outcompeted all others, we are trapped in a sense: bound to fuel for fire, and bound to soil which is not easily replenished at the rate of its use.
Traditionally, drilling for oil and mining have not held too many moral questions. The main question has been, “what are we going to do when we run out?” After all, these fossil fuels are not being used by other species, and their removal doesn’t seem to have any effects on ecosystems. But after the BP oil spill (as with the 1989 Exxon-Valdez spill and suggestions of drilling in the Alaska National Wildlife Refuge), there has been an outcry to reduce our dependence on oil not for our species’s own survival, but rather because of the damage we do to other species. That while drilling in and of itself may not be harmful, its effects can be.
From here I will overview some of the typical outlooks on what will happen at the end of oil, and then provide some reflection on conservation as an argument for reducing drilling.
Anthropocentrism: the viewpoints on the end of oil (briefly)
In his 2007 article in the South Atlantic Quarterly, Imre Szeman asks whether or not the “end of oil” is truly a disaster – a disaster for humankind, or just the status quo of our society. He outlines the 3 central ways that people think about the end of oil.
- Strategic Realism. This viewpoint is held by those deeply invested in maintaining the current economic and political spheres of our species. The questions asked are more about how the political structure of the world will change with the “end of oil,” and finding solutions to keep the current powers and countries of the world in balance. To quote Szeman, “Those who employ [this viewpoint] – and it is a discourse employed widely by government and the media alike – suspend or minimize concerns about the cumulative environmental disaster of oil or the fact that oil is disappearing altogether, and focus instead on the potential political and economic tensions that will inevitably arise as countries pursue their individual energy security in an era of scarcity.”
- Techno-utopianism. Techno-utopianism and strategic realism often go hand in hand: it is the discourse of dreamers who believe that science and technology will provide new access to oil and new technologies, which will enable us to maintain the capitalist economy. Our lifestyles will not change, but rather we will simply replace oil with a new form of energy, such as nuclear or hydrogen. It relies heavily on the idea that scientific innovation is just around the corner – that our solutions will arrive in time.
- Apocalyptic environmentalism. The apocalyptic environmentalists follow a different train of thought: that the “end of oil” will change everything. That social and political change will not only come, but will be necessary – that the carrying capacity of the planet will fall, standard of living will fall, and there is nothing to be done about it. The difference between this viewpoint and the others is that it serves a pedagogical purpose, as Szeman explains: that we need to change our actions now, moving towards a “simpler, non-affluent way of life.”
The role of Homo sapiens in conservation
These viewpoints, all of which you’ve probably witnessed, are all anthropocentric in nature. And this makes sense – we are a species trying to compete, and right now a resource we’re dependent upon is threatened. We need to think about how we, Homo sapiens, are going to survive this.
While economists often like to talk about the “end of oil,” I don’t have a good feel for the public mindset on the topic. While the “sustainability movement” is picking up speed, it often feels to be, frankly, bullshit sold at Whole Foods wrapped in 10 layers of plastic packaging to make people feel better about themselves. I can tell you this: I hadn’t noticed so much attention aimed toward ending our oil dependence until we saw pictures of pelicans covered in oil right in our own backyard, our own fishing grounds, affecting our own people in the BP oil spill.
While a competitive species should be concerned about this for their own sake, this recent rise in “oil awareness” is instead due to the harm we’re causing other species.
I’ve had many discussions lately about the anthropocentrism of our species, and how that affects the ways we view our environment. Some argue that conservation, while seeming altruistic, is actually the wrong way to think about the environment. That species have gone extinct for millennia; that invasive species do not exist; that the preservation of our environment is based on how we view “nature” and not how it functions itself. (See this comic for a simple representation.) That our care for nature or animals is selfish in itself, as they are symbols for how we view nature and places that we value aesthetically. Some even suggest that we give up on conservation efforts altogether and let evolution and nature take their course, even if it means our own extinction.
The response to the oil spill has shown that this empathy for other organisms (a sense which we evolved, I might add) may have more motivating power than our own survival. That our desire to assist those in struggle – whether they be oiled birds or starving people – creates a greater response than the thought that, sometime in the future, we may have to drastically change our lifestyles. This may be due to its immediacy, as we can save a bird RIGHT NOW but adjusting our carbon footprint or energy use will not have effects in the short-term. After all, as I said earlier, we are a competitive species: while ideally we all agree that preserving the status quo for our children is a good idea, we still are selfish and need to succeed the best we can now, so those good intentions are often left to the wayside.
While I do agree that we cannot save every species and that natural selection must take its course, I also consider that we evolved empathy. Homo sapiens have an instinct to try and help each other, other organisms, and “nature” generally, even if it doesn’t seem to make sense competitively. I, however, think it makes perfect sense: we need these resources in order to survive. We need a sense of the importance of “nature” and a drive to conserve it for our own good. The fact that we can “feel their pain” gives us an incentive to save them, and thus preserve our own resources.
So to those who look down on empathizing with nature? I say: haters gonna hate. We need a reason to reduce oil dependency, encourage technological innovation, rethink our society in order to continue to compete as a species. Clearly the thought of the “environmental apocalypse” isn’t a good enough motivator. If our empathy with hurt animals or disgust at our own species for ruining “perfect nature” is the cause, so be it. We need a reason, any reason. I say let’s follow our instincts and try to make change, if not for ourselves, then for the pelicans.
Haber, W. (2007). Energy, food, and land — The ecological traps of humankind Environmental Science and Pollution Research – International, 14 (6), 359-365 DOI: 10.1065/espr2007.09.449
Kerr, R. (1998). GEOLOGY:The Next Oil Crisis Looms Large–and Perhaps Close Science, 281 (5380), 1128-1131 DOI: 10.1126/science.281.5380.1128
Szeman, I. (2007). System Failure: Oil, Futurity, and the Anticipation of Disaster South Atlantic Quarterly, 106 (4), 805-823 DOI: 10.1215/00382876-2007-047
The oil spill is destroying me. My poor roommate, friends and coworkers are having to deal with my constant blathering about the BP oil spill in the Gulf, how it could effect ecosystems, people, and whether it will be enough to shift development toward sustainable resources.
It’s simply heartbreaking. I’m not going to focus on trying to blame any corporate conglomerates right now (although the spill, or rather, gush is seemingly the cause of pure negligence), for we have greater speculative issues at hand.
Ecological disaster looms. Oil is a poison floating in the water. It blocks sunlight from reaching the seafloor, and the oil blanket seems poised to spread into the wetlands, killing off much of the benthic life in the diverse estuaries. The egg masses of spawning fish will be enveloped. Birds migrating North, reliant on much of this marshland, will find themselves only oil to land on.
Our methods for cleaning involve burning, sending huge amounts of smoke into the air, leaving behind a nasty sludge, and only changing the 3% of the slick that is on the surface. The novel method, using dispersants to break down the oil, can dissolve the blob, but would leave uncountable oil particles for ingestion by organisms in the entire ocean, contaminating much of our seafood.
With fisheries already closed up and down the coast, many people have lost their livelihood at the peak of the season. No one is sure how long it would take fish recruitment to recover if the majority of eggs were destroyed – but these people could lose their jobs, their connection to their family history, further depressing towns that were already in bad shape after Hurricane Katrina.
But is this not the environmental disaster we’ve all been waiting for? That sounds terrible, as if I’m excited for the spill (which I am most certainly not), but it’s got to be said. After decades of trying to draw attention to the need for sustainability and conservation, if not to directly preserve our resources but simply to save ourselves, with little luck, I (and others, I’m sure) have been praying for some sort of human-caused environmental disruption. Environmental lobbyists and scientists could say, “I told you so,” and it would reveal the dire need to switch to more sustainable resources and control our carbon emissions. Can anything besides failure of the current system convince people that change is required?
The Deepwater Horizons oil spill has the potential to be the disaster we’ve dreamed of. In terms of public relations, think of all the terrible images we could see on the news if the oil reaches the coast, of the slick-covered birds and fish and mammals. Unlike the Exxon-Valdez spill, which had its effects mainly limited to wildlife due to its remote location and thus was easier to ignore, this spill could affect millions of people. Real Americans, ones who had been living in small towns and continuing the fishing traditions of their grandfathers. And two decades later, we are far closer to having the technology needed for more sustainable energy.
My greatest fear is that nothing will change. That a huge, off-shore oil rig exploded — a symbol of our driving need to find oil in more difficult places and the dangers it poses — spewing millions of gallons of oil into the ocean, killing countless animals and plants, hurting peoples’ lives, requiring massive amounts of time, manpower and money to clean up, and a month later we will act like nothing happened. Continue to drill excessively, continue to overconsume and not invest in sustainable practices for the sake of convenience, forget that it even happened.
In a dream world, this will start off a cascade of federal funding and legislature in support of sustainable practices. But I have sadly developed into a pessimist regarding the ability of both the legislators and citizens of this country to take any sort of action, change their own lives in any appreciable way, if they have not personally been affected by disaster.
What to do for now? Try to write and educate as much as possible. Most of what I’ve written here is completely speculative; the oil has not reached the marshes yet. (But it is imminent.) In the midst of the beginning of this, it might seem crazy that people will stop paying attention to it. But I’ve already heard complains about the endless talk — we cannot let it die down. I will continue to cover the spill as it develops.
I also signed this petition from Surf Rider to restore the moratorium on offshore drilling. It’s the easiest – just type in your zip code and they’ll send it to all the appropriate people for you.
And, lastly, try and brainstorm how you personally could become less oil-dependent. Even reducing the use of plastic can make an impact.
Here are some links to other blogs covering of the spill. Please peruse.