The goal of Conservation Corner has always been to introduce readers to topics and ideas that aren’t yet part of the national discourse. We want to illuminate ongoing issues in the world and hopefully, incite some critical thinking and discussion on these topics. When it comes to conservation, progress only takes place when demanded by an informed public.

To that end, we try to cover a broad spectrum of topics. While we often write about specific events such as the death of Nola the white rhinoceros, we’ve also been known to delve into the more esoteric fare, like migratory adaptation. Regardless of the topic, we always try to drive the conversation deeper and to explore the broader ramifications of the concept under discussion.

The death of Nola was perhaps the biggest news item so far covered by Conservation Corner. When she passed away at the San Diego Zoo Safari Park, the number of northern white rhinos left on the planet was reduced to three. The story blew up online and on TV for all the usual reasons; it was dramatic, it was traumatic, and it illuminated a gigantic and obvious conservation problem. People responded in droves and that can only be counted as a win for the forces of wildlife conservation.

In our coverage of the loss of this beautiful animal, we tried to refrain from focusing on the depressing and macabre and instead investigated what her species’ decline had meant for the particular ecosystem.

That article led directly to our opening piece of 2016, entitled “Settling for Second: The Evolutionary Cost of Trophy Hunting”. This piece focused on a frequently unnoticed side-effect of human hunting. While it’s well-documented that such pressures can eliminate a species (as seen in the dodo, Stellar’s sea cow, and others). What has been largely ignored is the effect it can have even on well-managed target populations; such as those of bighorn sheep or mule deer. Whereas standard predatory practice targets the old, the sick, and the weak thereby weeding out undesirable genetic traits, trophy hunting specifically targets idealized specimens. This has the side-effect of leaving less-qualified individuals to reproduce and carry on the species.

From there we covered another topic related to anthropogenic over-hunting; a novel reintroduction project enacted by the Sahara Conservation Fund and their partners, Environment Abu Dhabi, and the Government of Chad. This ambitious project aims to reintroduce into the deserts of Chad, a species of antelope that has been extinct in the wild for nearly three decades. The scimitar-horned oryx (which roam in the habitats here at Safari West) is one of the many victims of unrestricted human hunting discussed above. Luckily, forward-thinking conservationists were able to establish functional captive breeding programs before the last wild individual was shot in 1989. Thanks to that foresight and the ongoing work done by so many, including our own hoofstock keepers, the species is now getting a second chance to thrive in their natural habitat.

This is not to say, however, that the re-wilded scimitars are being released into an Edenic, human-free environment. Quite the opposite in fact. They will be competing for resources with domesticated goats and cattle. They will need to contend with roadways and vehicles. Undoubtedly, hunters, human and otherwise, will also be a concern.

We explored this intersection of humanity and our wild neighbors deeper in a piece focused on the ways in which animals are adapting to us. In the long history of this planet, life has always had to evolve to deal with challenges; climate change, sea level rise and fall, the invasion of novel species, and natural disasters galore. While the ubiquity and industry of the human species may be unprecedented in nature, life appears to be up to the challenge.

In that article, we focused primarily on the fascinating and mysterious monarch butterfly. This world-famous pollinator makes the longest migration of any insect species, traveling up and down the United States; from the border of Canada to the forests of northern Mexico. Although they’ve always been forced to fly around the Gulf of Mexico—sticking doggedly to the coastlines along the way—they’ve recently begun to make surprising use of offshore oil rigs. Normally a symbol of environmental exploitation and degradation, these machines of industry are increasingly becoming stopover points, allowing millions of delicate but determined butterflies to rest their weary wings as they make the arduous trip south.

Discussion of this migration must’ve stuck in our minds because the very next edition of Conservation Corner furthered the discussion. Dovetailing into the centennial of the National Parks Service, we discussed their incredible success at protecting specific areas of the wilderness and the sedentary species that make their homes there. What the park system has been less successful at is creating safe havens for migratory animals like the monarch. Their focus as they move into their second century is centered on how to address the needs of migrating birds, pronghorn antelope, salmon, butterflies, and more.

The National Park Service is one of the world leaders in human management of the ecosystem, but the example they’ve set is being followed by others. The Pepperwood Preserve—Safari West’s neighbor to the east—is among those pioneering forces. Earlier this year they held a prescribed burn. They intentionally set fire to a portion of their vast acreage. This technique is increasingly used to reduce the potential for wildfires across the world, but Pepperwood’s experiment had a different aim. They were hoping to reduce the spread of an invasive grass. Medusahead grass has exploded beyond its original range and continues to flood into novel environments at an alarming rate. The Pepperwood experiment is part of an increasing trend toward utilizing natural processes rather than synthetic ones—like toxic herbicides—to help control and restrict environmentally destabilizing invasive species.

Ecosystem engineering of this sort is looking more and more like it will be a necessity in the world of tomorrow and further exploration of the idea lead us to explore the kind of bioengineering that takes place even without our intent. We looked into how species like beavers can transform an entire forest with their teeth and tails as effectively as we can with chainsaw and bulldozers. This exploration revealed how ecosystems that have adapted to the activity of bioengineers like beavers suffer at their loss, whereas ecosystems that experience novel engineering, such as that so frequently brought about by human industry, tend to suffer.

Tying into this idea of environmental resilience, we then discussed invasive species more directly. Invasive species have become one of the largest conservation issues dealt with by facilities like Safari West. The term “invasive species” is one that has established itself in the common discourse and is familiar to any farmer, rancher, any boater, or any traveler who’s crossed a state line. They’ve become the boogeymen of modern conservationist thought which is a bit of a mixed blessing. While public awareness of the problems of invasive is by all accounts a good thing, the underlying fact is that invasive species are also critical to the process of evolution. Ecosystems are by their very nature dynamic and novel influences help keep populations healthy and strong. To an extent. In isolated ecosystems like those found on many islands, the much slower pace of invasion leaves them vulnerable to extreme disruption when something new appears. As with the bioengineering article, our exploration of invasive species revealed a concept in which frequency or intensity made the difference between what is a stabilizing influence, and what is catastrophically destabilizing.

That article brought us into back-to-school season and so we came out of the deep weeds on conservation philosophy and presented a targeted piece that aspired to illuminate the vast and growing problem of rampant consumerism. We now live in a culture that constantly tells us that every occasion requires a purchase and that last year’s model can’t compare to this year’s. In a world of more frequent buying, products must be cheaper and more disposable. This leads inevitably to exploding waste, primarily of cheap and easy to produce plastics.

Ecosystems may be able to adapt to a novel species in their midst, but thus far, no system has come up with a cure for plastics. Plastic polymers persist almost eternally, don’t biodegrade, and are detrimental to virtually all forms of life. We are filling our planet with plastics and most of the human race is so far unaware that there’s a problem.

The last two articles of the year continued the theme of illuminating largely invisible problems. The first piece focused on palm oil; an ingredient nearly as ubiquitous as plastic and one which has an equally detrimental impact. The oil palm is an amazing plant that produces—quite efficiently—a product which has found use in everything from food to cosmetics. Many studies have suggested that over fifty percent of all products on store shelves contain palm oil derivatives. The problem with palm oil is that it grows best in the same places that tropical rain forests do and coincidentally, those tend to be the very same locales that have the least amount of legal protection. The high and growing demand for palm oil has led to unrestrained deforestation on an apocalyptic scale. Slash-and-burn land clearing techniques and unrestricted persecution of local wildlife has led to precipitous declines in hundreds of irreplaceable species like orangutans, Sumatran rhinos, and elephants. Luckily, there is progress even on this front and it is now easier than ever to track you palm oil usage and direct your dollars toward companies that supply it sustainably.

The most recent issue of Conservation Corner focused on yet another widely unknown but absolutely critical conservation issue; that of our seafood supply. Fish arrive in our supermarkets daily and almost none of us question where they come from. The oceans are vast and fished by massive fleets representing hundreds of nations. The difficulties in regulation, the loopholes in labeling, and a complete and utter lack of transparency have all helped to lead us where we are today. Worldwide, fishing stocks have been depleted by anywhere from seventy to ninety percent. Our oceans are becoming deserts and the vast majority of us don’t even know there’s a problem.

Over the last year, we’ve covered a long list of topics that range from land to sea, and from practical to philosophical. We’ve made an effort to be illuminating rather than depressing and to offer solutions wherever possible. As we close out this year, and in case we failed in that goal, I’d like to point out a few of the bright rays of hope that have 2016 shine.

Safari West became partners with the Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watch program. This program is one of the leaders in combating the issues with our seafood supply. Simply by downloading their app onto your phone, you become instantly equipped to make informed choices in your seafood purchases, whether in a restaurant or at the grocery store. Experience has shown again and again that industry follows the money. If we’re buying sustainable supplied products, they will shift to capitalize on that trend.

On a similar note, the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo has an app that accomplishes the same thing with palm oil. The app includes a barcode scanner that will tell you at a glance whether the ice cream in your hand is produced by a member of the Round Table on Sustainable Palm Oil. It’s a great tool for identifying sustainability-minded companies that you may want to support.

This was also a year which saw the meeting of nearly two-hundred nations in Johannesburg, South Africa to discuss and regulate trade in endangered species. This conference of parties to the Convention on the International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES) not only shut down several proposals to re-legalize trade in ivory and rhino horn, but also established new protections for many species including elephants, rhinos, pangolins, and numerous species of sharks and rays. The conference was a big step forward for many endangered species and ecosystems.

Lastly, I want to take a moment to mention some of the practical things that have been accomplished right here at Safari West. We updated the plumbing system throughout our luxury tent camp. While this update in no way impacted guest experience, it did reroute all gray water (water draining from sinks and showers) to be used in our landscaping. Thousands of gallons that would otherwise have drained away wastefully are now being put to use among our vegetation. In a state stricken by drought, this is a valuable conservation action.

We’ve also initiated a brand new wildlife monitoring project. Our habitats aren’t only home to our exotic collection, but also to all manner of local wildlife. At Safari West our safari guides and keeper regularly encounter hawks, vultures, snakes, turtles, deer, otters, and countless other member species of the Mayacamas Mountains biome. This wildlife monitoring program will help us to better understand how these species are adapting to our presence and how to make the environment of Safari West more welcoming to them.

As we close out this chapter and begin the next, it is with a palpable sense of excitement and motivation. Many challenges await—both those we know about and the inevitable surprises waiting in the wings—but every year, our species gets smarter and more ambitious. We figure out what we’re doing right and how to correct what we’re doing wrong. We continue to improve our ability to live effectively within our ecosystems, rather than struggling to dominate them. Progress is being made and it’s thanks to people like you. We at Conservation Corner thank you for your support throughout this year and we look forward to working with you to make the next one even better.

Happy Holidays to you and a very Happy New Year!

The post Conservation Corner: Looking Back, Moving Forward appeared first on Safari West.

According to the National Wildlife Federation, “approximately 42% of threatened or endangered species are at risk primarily due to invasive species.” Equally as scary, the US Fish and Wildlife Service puts the annual cost of invasive species to the United States at somewhere around $120 billion. Have I made my point? These things, whatever they are, are a big deal.

So then what exactly is an “invasive species”? Is it simply an organism from somewhere outside the state? The county? The neighborhood? How foreign does a species have to be to classify as invasive?

As it turns out, not all species that are alien to an ecosystem are commonly considered to be invasive in it, and in fact, the terminology might well be more political than it is ecological. Several factors have to come into play in order for a species to earn this dubious moniker. First, the species must be introduced to a novel environment (the alien component). Once there it has to survive, which is no guaranteed thing (imagine a crocodile introduced to Antarctica). After surviving in its new home, the alien species must then multiply and thrive, eventually out-competing one or more species native to the ecosystem. At this point, when the alien becomes damaging, that’s when we tend to term it invasive.

Let me give you an example. Recently, ornamental lionfish have become a bit of a news item. These striped, long-finned tropical fish are a favorite of aquaculturists and fish enthusiasts world wide. The slender, barbed, poisonous lobes that make up the lionfish’s “mane” are gorgeous and look amazing in a salt-water tank. This flamboyant species hails from the western Pacific where it occupies coral reefs and preys on smaller fish. Somehow in the mid-1980’s, the species was introduced to the waters off of Florida. In all likelihood, a pet-owner released his or her collection in a misguided attempt to liberate the captive pets. Florida is a long, long way from the western Pacific. Often in this situation, the newly freed pets are quickly killed. Either simple environmental factors do them in (again, crocs in Antarctica) or else they fall prey to predators and pathogens they’ve never experienced before. In this particular case, something close to the opposite occurred. The lionfish survived. The coastal waters off Miami are not all that different from the lionfish’s native habitat so factors like water temperature worked in their favor. Likewise, there are no predators in the Caribbean eager to eat lionfish and no diseases hanging about that proved fatal to them. In the absence of these population-limiting factors, the fish not only survived, they thrived. They quickly established a position as an apex-predator, feasting on reef fish who’d never seen a lionfish before and had no means of defending themselves. Those introductory lionfish grew healthy and strong and bred prodigiously. Before long, the coast of Florida became the site of a lionfish explosion.

For the first decade or so following introduction, the population remained restricted to the coastal waters off Miami. In 2000, lionfish sightings began to pop up further along the Atlantic seaboard. By 2007, the fish had become true colonists; expanding their range New York to Cuba and Haiti. According to the US Geological Survey, the fish can now be found in coastal water throughout the Caribbean, the Gulf of Mexico, and as far north as Rhode Island as indicated by this beautiful animated map. The lionfish is now firmly designated as an invasive species because as its range grows, the populations of other reef fish have declined. They are causing widespread shifts and changes in their ecosystem.

Florida faces a nearly identical invasive problem with Burmese pythons; another pet species released into the Everglades. As with the lionfish, the pythons find the environment comfortable and thrive in the absence of python-hungry predators or competitors for resources. Their population has exploded and hungry snakes are decimating once relatively stable populations of small mammals and birds. Florida is also exporting invasive of its own. As detailed in the month’s Safari Spotlight, the red-eared slider, a turtle native to Florida and other southern states, has invaded California. Fast-breeding and larger than our native turtles, they are dominating our local freshwater habitats and wreaking havoc on our local turtle populations. In all the cases outlined above, the designation of invasive was applied once it became clear that the successes of the alien species were coming at the expense of the natives.

Although it’s certainly a big contributor, the pet trade isn’t the only source for problematic invasive species. Glassy-winged sharpshooters, innocuous looking insects from the Southeastern US made it into Southern California in the late 80’s; likely by traveling on a shipment of nursery plants. The little insects feed on the vital fluids of vascular plants and carry something called Pierce’s Disease; a pathogen which decimates grape vines. Zebra mussels were introduced into the Great Lakes (again in the late 80’s) from the ballasts of Russian and eastern European tankers. The fingernail sized bivalves produce between 100,000 and 500,000 eggs per year and are spreading through American waterways at a terrifying rate. They frequently congregate in concrete-like masses which block plumbing and infrastructure, costing us millions in damages. The list goes on and on and though the individual species may differ, the pattern is the same. An alien species appears and changes things to the extent that it becomes ecologically or (and this is what tends to get our attention) economically damaging.

When framed like this, it becomes readily understandable why invasive species tend to be categorized as implicitly negative. Like acid rain or global warming, they are often thought of as a purely human-caused phenomenon having purely negative consequences. This is a gross oversimplification of the facts.

In truth, while human-caused invasions are almost universally the source of ecologic turmoil including dramatic population shifts and extinctions, what we have done is not to invent a new phenomenon but to rapidly accelerate an existing one. Since the dawn of life on this planet, invasions have been taking place. Species from the sea invaded the land, colonizing and claiming as they went. Since then species that have thrived in one location have spread to others, competing with and pushing out other species as they’ve moved.

Without invasions, the Hawaiian islands would likely be little more than sterile heaps of lava sprouting from the mid-Pacific. Throughout the history of the islands, birds, reptiles, plants, and the occasional mammal have found their way across thousands of miles of ocean to colonize those tropical shores. Prior to the human discovery of the island chain, the rate of invasion was approximately one novel species every 100,000 years. In spite of these ongoing invasions, the term “invasive species” hasn’t often been used in describing historic Hawaii. In part, this is because these invasions happened before humans were on the scene. We tend not to concern ourselves with the shifts and extinctions that led to what is. We’re far more worried about shifts and extinctions changing what exists now into something new. The other reason why we don’t often consider these ancient invasions in the same manner that we consider today’s is because they were less apparently damaging.The key word there is “apparent”. While the interspecies conflicts and occasional extinctions that likely occurred whenever a new plant or bird arrived on the islands are of no concern to us today, they would have been a very big concern for the species being edged out at the time.

While these natural invasions are most dramatic and obvious in island ecology, they happen across the planet in every ecosystem. From the intermixing of North and South American ecologies that occurred when the Isthmus of Panama rose above sea level, to the widespread changes that both led to and resulted from human beings crossing the Bering Strait from Eurasia, the globe has always been a melting pot of advancing and retreating populations. It’s not the act of invasion that’s the problem, it’s the frequency. They’re happening too fast for our comfort and population shifts that would normally have taken centuries or longer are happening on the scale of years or decades. While not unprecedented in geologic history, this is certainly unprecedented in human history.

The other conception about invasives that must be challenged is this idea that all of them are inherently detrimental and fundamentally negative. This is where the politics of terminology reveals itself. An invading species that is economically beneficial usually escapes the label whereas those that hit us in the wallet wind up on roadside billboards. The mistake made by the glassy-winged sharpshooter was to invade Napa Valley and destroy grapes rather than poison oak. An invasive insect that doesn’t impact our agriculture usually escapes our notice.

As proof of this, consider the ubiquitous earthworm. Prior to European colonization of North America, this continent had few earthworms. Worms had been largely extirpated from North America during the ice ages; carved away and crushed by the movement of glaciers across the terrain. These days, you can’t turn a spade without revealing at least a few of the wriggling annelids. It is common knowledge that these helpful creatures aerate our soil and aid in decomposition. We add them to our gardens to gain beautiful flowers and vegetables. We keep them in our compost bins to turn our trash into fertilizer They are an unexamined boon to our agriculture and productivity.

So most earthworms are definitely invasive though we rarely call them that, and though there is increasing scientific evidence that their presence in north-eastern forests is, in fact, detrimental, it’s not detrimental to us. Even though they are virtually everywhere, the wriggling masses of earthworms beneath our feet are viewed positively while the quiet colonies of zebra mussels in our waterways are viewed as the advancing enemy horde. Both species are virulently invasive and tend to dominate their respective ecosystems. So what’s the difference? Zebra mussels cost us money while earthworms help us make it.

The long and short of this whole discussion is this; invasive species are nothing new. From the dawn of time, ecosystems have had to deal with newcomers, whether it was a palm nut riding ocean currents to a far off island, or the opossum walking up the isthmus of Panama to a brave new North American world. In all cases, an established community has had to adapt to something novel. Now that we humans are part of the status quo, we’re very concerned. We tend not to see the long view. From our perspective, the current arrangement of species and habitats is the correct one and we shudder to see it change. We see news items about deserts expanding and forests shrinking. We wait in line at roadside border security checkpoints or agriculture screening stations in airports. There is increasing focus on gardening with native plants and removing invasive weeds from the neighborhood. We are trying to preserve what is and fend off what might be.

This concern is more than anything, a value judgment. Sure, invasives change systems and sure, the introduction of the lionfish to the Caribbean may cause widespread changes, but there’s a larger view to consider. Will lionfish end the Caribbean? Will sharpshooters turn the Napa Valley into a sterile moonscape? Not likely. The systems will adjust and adapt, transforming themselves into the newest version of that system. This is life in motion. This is how new species are born and old species are edged out. This is all part and parcel of the great process of life.

So how should we think about invasives? It’s a balancing act. Trying to maintain sterile, unchanging environments is not only impossible, it’s unwise. As we see in New Zealand, Hawaii, Madagascar, Australia, and numerous other isolated communities, strict separation tends to lead to ecological precariousness. Island communities typically have fewer species overall and much of what they do have are highly specialized. While these ecosystems do fine while isolated, exposure to novel species is often devastating. Consider that Madagascar lemurs and Australian koalas aren’t invading new territories. Rather, they are struggling to maintain position against an influx of rodents, cane toads, cats, and other novel species. The ebb and flow is important to ecological health.

What is equally important to recognize is that pacing matters. While some colonization and expansion is expected and healthy, the rampant transplanting of species brought about by human expansion is unprecedented. While the Hawaiian Islands used to experience a novel species once every 100,000 years or so, in the modern era, they’re being swamped with novelty. In recent history, not only did our species invade, but we have brought with us the great plethora of life from across the globe; rats and bees, snakes and lizards, cats and dogs. This is the very definition of “too much of a good thing”. We’ve accelerated the process beyond healthy standards and must do what we can to mitigate the damage.

Going forward, we will have to take a firm objective look at alien species that pop up in our neighborhoods. We’ll have to ask ourselves, is this change happening because life is doing what it does best? Or because somebody down the road didn’t wipe their boots before flying back from vacation? We’ll have to consider whether the shifts made by the ecosystem to accommodate the new arrival are fundamentally detrimental, or simply changes that don’t serve our self-interest. Conservation done right demands that we look beyond our own concerns and try to determine what works best for the world at large.

For now, continue wiping down your boat and draining the bilge to keep zebra mussels from spreading too quickly. Don’t release your exotic pets into the city park. Be aware of what you plant in your yard and whether or not it’ll soon be growing in your neighbor’s. Do what you can to limit invasions, but do so understanding that these species aren’t bad just because they don’t fit with our plan. They are remarkable examples of life doing what life does best. They’ve out-competed their rivals and found ways to piggy-back on the unprecedented mobility of humanity. While we want to limit their expansion and mitigate their invasions, we also want to recognize that we owe our lives to invasive predecessors who fought, scrabbled, and competed to forge the living world we take for granted today.

The post Conservation Corner: Invasion! appeared first on Safari West.