The "History" in "Natural History"

Much is made of the need to conserve wildlife and preserve wildlands for the sake of future generations. I would argue that there is just as strong a need to be good stewards of the planet for the sake of past generations. We talk of “natural history” with an emphasis on “natural.” We practically ignore the “history” involved.

Here in the United States, we have a legion of icons who built the foundation for our modern environmental movement. Do we owe them nothing for their unique visions, legislative action, scientific research, and passionate protests? What about artists like Ansel Adams who brought images of wilderness to the masses who had never seen Yosemite? Aldo Leopold gave us a “land ethic.” Rachel Carson cautioned against the indiscriminate use of DDT. We would not be where we are today were it not for the likes of these heroes and heroines.

We can erect monuments to such people, honor their work in film documentaries and written biographies, but what better way to leave a legacy than to insure their efforts were not in vain? Yes, more wilderness has been preserved, more parks created, and more species discovered, but then there are challenges like the reintroduction of predators into parts of their historic geographical ranges.

The debate over wolf introductions is incredibly volatile, but I have heard no one speak of how doing so would bring history back to life. The national park system, at the very least, should be dedicated to preserving a historical spectrum of habitats and ecosystems. There is Colonial Williamsburg, there are civil war re-enactments, and countless other examples of “living history” in the human context of the term. What about the history of wildness?

Recreating in a museum diorama that which used to be is not enough. Resurrecting the mammoth, or even the Passenger Pigeon, may be a bit too much, as we also need reminders of our extreme human mistakes. Still, I feel impoverished that I have been deprived of even the opportunity to see a Carolina Parakeet, a Great Auk, or a Sea Mink. The California Condor once flew over the Columbia River, according to Lewis and Clark. We should consider restoring its presence there.

Once my own mentors pass away, you better believe I will remain dedicated to making sure their voices carry on, that their fights go on. I owe it to them. Another natural landscape destroyed by needless development, a dam, or pollution? Not on my watch. Allow another species to go extinct due to human greed or neglect? No way. I’ve got your back, John Muir, Theodore Roosevelt, Bob Marshall, Dian Fossey. Your missions didn’t die with you.

The Red Bull Rampage

My wife likes to turn on the Today show in the morning while we have breakfast. The trivia that passes for news is usually only mildly annoying, but one story today set me on fire. Reporter Jenna Wolfe covered the “Red Bull Rampage,” an extreme mountain biking competition in what I suspect used to be a pristine Utah landscape. I am not sure which turns my stomach more: the event itself, or the fact that NBC is glorifying this destructive spectacle.

Here in Colorado Springs I see firsthand the deep gullies and gashes eroded by mountain bikes. While most of the riders are courteous and careful when it comes to sharing trails with pedestrian hikers, the damage done to the soil is appalling. I will still grant them the right to ride on trails in an urban or suburban setting, but to carry out their freewheeling in wilderness (officially designated or not)? No way. I have another solution, which I will discuss later.

Back in the day we used to call extreme sports participants “daredevils.” We could still call them that today, but the emphasis should be on “devil.” We could also call it “wreckreation,” because that is what is happening to the environment in the wake of tire treads, litter, and other negative impacts. Erosion, siltation of streams and other water courses, and destruction of wildlife habitat is what you get out of repeated abuse by trail bikes, motorized or pedaled.

In any event, you are defacing something beautiful. There is no other word to describe this competition except “vandalism.”

Then there is the scenic aspect. What was once something sculpted completely by wind, water, and geologic upheaval is now scarred permanently in the name of “sport.” I find it ironic that this is billed as a dangerous sport, yet people with pick-axes and shovels carve out “routes” for the bikers to use in the Red Bull Rampage. In any event, you are defacing something beautiful. There is no other word to describe this competition except “vandalism.” You might as well ride over the paintings in the Louvre. It is just as disrespectful an act, if not moreso, to scribble permanent tracks over a landscape eons in the making.

What would I do instead? I would hold events like this in landscapes already compromised by human enterprise. Abandoned open pit mines come to mind. I can think of one in Bisbee, Arizona that would be ideal. Think about all the upsides to this. You can make a course as difficult as you like. You can have emergency medical personnel and transportation standing close by in the event of a horrible accident. Your closer proximity to a city or town would generate revenue for that municipality. Abandoned mines, old landfills, and other parcels of land already scarred by human activity abound on this planet. There is absolutely no need to exploit pristine wilderness.

I plan to write to NBC News to protest both the story on this morning’s Today show and their plan to air the Red Bull Rampage event in its ugly entirety next month. This is not sport, and we have to stop glorifying it as such. Push for alternative locations for such things. Take a piece of land that is beyond repair and hold such competitions there. Everyone can be happy if we put our minds to it. We conquered Nature long ago. What we are doing now is tantamount to torture. There are international agreements against torturing human beings. Maybe we need that kind of accord to protect Mother Nature, too.

Aravaipa Canyon

I am terribly behind in documenting places I have been this year. Way back on May 16, 2010, I had the pleasure of visiting Aravaipa Canyon in Pinal County, Arizona with my good friend Margarethe Brummermann and three visitors from elsewhere. Yen Saw was visiting from Texas, and Christian Ludwig came over from Germany. Mike McNichols came from next door: New Mexico. The heat was a bit too much for Yen and Mike, so they elected to depart in the early afternoon, but a good time was had by all before and after our party split.

A good portion of Aravaipa Canyon is a wilderness area managed by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) in the United States Department of the Interior. It is closed to motor vehicles, with hikers forced to wade in the creek through the narrower portions of the canyon. The remainder of the canyon is mostly privately-held land and one trespasses at their own risk.

Our party had barely entered the lower reaches of the canyon when our caravan came to a screeching halt in front of a large Gophersnake, Pituophis catenifer stretched across the road. It was a truly magnificent reptile, and we were able to get multiple images before and after it attempted its retreat.

Actually, it retreated a bit too far for my tastes, looping a coil up my pant leg. Having encountered a rattlesnake the week before, I was a little bit edgy; and a whole lot embarrassed by the serpent’s affection.

Yen and Mike were looking mostly for mantids, and at this time of the year in Arizona most of those predatory insects are in immature stages, quite small and difficult to detect. Ground mantids in the genus Litaneutria can be found as adults, however. Mike also knows ants quite well, and he helped Christian find several colonies of different species. Margarethe was literally beating the bushes for beetles, and I was seeking photo ops for anything I could find in the quickly withering landscape.

Mike and Yen headed back to their hotel in Tucson after finding a dead cow. Their discovery and departure had nothing to do with one another.

Margarethe, Christian and I then continued up the canyon, finally coming to shadier and cooler places by the creek. As we pulled into our final stop along the road, a Common Black-Hawk took off from a low perch in a tree, the black and white bands of its tail both startling and exciting us.

By now, in late afternoon, the wind had picked up and the gusty conditions made photography more difficult. So did the dim sunlight under the tall cottonwoods. Still, we enjoyed seeing creatures like bombardier beetles (Brachinus) and Rubyspot damselflies.

We turned around in the parking area at the entrance to the wilderness area, and were treated to spectacular rimrock views. I look forward to visiting again, and hopefully walking the wilderness area. Aravaipa Canyon is certainly a gem in a state full of truly magnificent landscapes and natural attractions.

Many thanks to Margarethe for the transportation, and to Yen, Christian, and Mike for sharing their own knowledge of insects. I’m already counting the days until they visit again.

NOTE: Special thanks to Yen Saw for letting me use the image of Margarethe, and the one of the group. We are, from left to right: Yen Saw, myself, Margarethe Brummermann, Mike McNichols, and Christian Ludwig.

A Banner Day for Wilderness Protection

I subscribe to an e-mail newsletter for the Tucson chapter of the Arizona Native Plant Society, and I have the editor, Nancy Zierenberg, to thank for informing me of today’s passage of “monumental” wilderness legislation by the U.S. Congress in Washington, DC. It is expected that President Obama will ratify the measure without qualification.

Known as the Omnibus Public Land Management Act of 2009, this represents the greatest expansion of wilderness lands in over a decade. More than two million acres will be permanently protected in nine states, from coast to coast.

But wait, there’s more! The act also includes the National Landscape Conservation System, which, through the Bureau of Land Management, will administer 1.2 million additional acres of watersheds and forests in the Bridger-Teton National Forest of western Wyoming. Now how much would you pay (in tax dollars)?!

The legislation is not without its flaws (a portion of wilderness in Alaska was removed from protection to allow for the construction of a road), but all in all this is a significant milestone.

I will have more to say about wilderness and land conservation in future blogs, but in the meantime, you can learn more about this historic bill from the Wilderness Society blog.