ecology Archives - Macska Moksha Press

The damage done by “invasives”—the word, not the plants

January 1, 2025 by Kollibri terre Sonnenblume

Oxeye Daisy (Leucanthemum vulgare), as observed along a rural road in an agricultural zone in Yamhill County, Oregon, a species considered “invasive” by some.

The widespread use of the word “invasive” to describe certain plants has done great damage to the public’s understanding of plants and ecology, more than any other narrative in the last generation I would argue.

The word “invasive” is at odds with the reality of what plants are and of how life on the planet works. A vast world of complexity is flattened into a grossly oversimplified drama of good vs. evil. The multifaceted, nuanced interplay of response and adaptation among countless species with each other and their fluctuating conditions is reduced to a single perceived side effect misrepresented as a cause. Worst of all, the word manufactures a perspective that distracts us from threats to biodiversity that are, in contrast, unequivocal (with habitat destruction at the top of that list).

“Green” Energy vs. the Mojave Desert: interview with Kevin Emmerich of Basin & Range Watch

December 2, 2024 by Kollibri terre Sonnenblume

Mojave Desert collage from my photo collection: Clockwise from top left, Sphinx Moth. wind farm, solar farm, Desert Tortoise

I interview Kevin Emmerich, co-founder of Basin & Range Watch, a non-profit environmental organization based in southern Nevada that educates people about threats to public land from industrial development and energy extraction in the Mojave Desert and the Great Basin. These regions have been ground zero for “green energy” due to their plentiful sunlight, strong winds and lithium deposits.

Kevin enjoyed a career in the National Park Service for 20 years in seven different National Parks and Monuments, including Death Valley National Park since 1991 (now retired). He has also worked as a field biologist for research on desert species such as the Panamint Alligator Lizard, Desert Tortoise, and Mojave Fringe-toed Lizard.

I’ve been following Basin & Range Watch’s work for over a decade, since I saw Kevin quoted in an LA Times article about a “green energy” project in California. I’ve interviewed both Kevin and the organization’s co-founder Laura Cunningham a number of times for print and podcast. I appreciate not only their knowledge and experience, but also the love they both so clearly have for the Southwest, a love that I share. So when I had questions how the incoming Presidential election might affect “green energy” projects in this area, my first email was to Basin & Watch.

Too Much Focus on Carbon; Not Enough on Habitat Destruction

November 18, 2024 by Kollibri terre Sonnenblume

Sonoran desert habitat in southern California being wiped out for a solar facility, October 2022. This site is in the range of the Desert Ironwood tree (Olneya tesota), a long-lived species that in exceptional cases can reach 1500 years in age, making them old growth treasures of the desert. [Photo by author]

On right is the unbulldozed habitat, of a type called “Creosote Scrub.” The predominant plant species is Larrea tridentata, known as “Creosote Bush” or, in Spanish, Governadora, which is “governess plant,” so-named because she acts as nurse plant for other plants by providing shade. Known in herbalist circles, oddly, as “Chapparal” though “Chapparal” is an entirely different landscape type with a different suite of plants.

I recently had an exchange with a climate specialist on Substack that illustrated one of the major problems with current climate discourse. It doesn’t matter who; they do a good job calling attention to important news, and the limitation of their worldview I am highlighting here is not at all unique to them, so I won’t name them. They had put up a post enumerating many of the threats to the environment posed by the incoming Trump administration and its Project 2025, which I certainly appreciate since the more people who call attention to these threats, the better. After expressing that appreciation for their contribution the the topic, I commented:

For the record, a possible silver lining of a Trump administration for some of us is that wildlife habitat, especially in the western deserts, might face fewer threats from industrial green energy projects. For example, Trump’s cancellation of the Crescent Peak Wind Project preserved a site that’s within the area that became the Avi Kwa Ame National Monument under Biden.

I was pointing out the paradoxical fact that Trump’s strike against a wind project ended up sparing an area that Biden then saw fit to protect, though Obama had sought to degrade it. I went on to say:

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“Invasive Plants”: Immigrants Who Nice People are Allowed to Hate

November 11, 2024 by Kollibri terre Sonnenblume

A Salt Cedar / Tamarisk tree (genus Tamarix, species unknown) at an undisclosed location in southern California. (Photo by the author)

When I first started hearing the rhetoric of the “invasive plant” narrative in the early 2000s, I was living in the progressive bastion of Portland, Oregon. I was taken aback by the vitriol being dished out by people who were otherwise prided themselves on being accepting and nonjudgmental. I concluded that many secularists, lacking a religious dogma, needed a Devil to hate, and “invasive plants” fit the bill.

I find that conclusion overly simplistic now, but it certainly contained a big nugget of truth. Through my research into the topic of “invasive plants” over the last few years—which has included a deep dive into the scientific literature, my own field observations, and many discussions with other people with varying views on the subject—I’ve come to see that the “invasive plant” narrative is more a product of culture than it is of science.

Autumn in The Gila, 1 of 3: Trees

October 31, 2024 by Kollibri terre Sonnenblume

Inverted photograph from a pond at the Nature Conservancy plot down the road

It’s a really buzzy time because of the US elections, so rather than putting out some writing that’ll just get lost in the noise, I’m offering a 3-part series of photos. I had originally planned just one post, but have been taking so many pictures, I broke it into sections: Trees, Wildflowers and Insects.

I’m currently staying at a friend’s rural property in the upper Gila River valley in southwestern New Mexico. If anyplace can be said to be the home-base in my nomadic existence, this is it. It’s in a remote, sparsely populated location. The pavement ends a mile further down, and the road dead-ends entirely a couple miles later at a campground in the Gila National Forest. From there you can be hiking in the Gila Wilderness in just a few minutes. Also down the road is an old farm owned by the Nature Conservancy where they’re doing passive restoration, where I take walks regularly. It’s also chill enough around here that you can just take off across the pastures to get to the river and nobody pays any mind.

So I’m blessed with a lot of space to explore, full of plants and other creatures, and I’ve been carrying my camera with me so I can share what I find. I hope you enjoy this 3-part visual offering of the more-than-human world.

What’s “invasive” in this photo? Let’s take a close look

July 11, 2024 by Kollibri terre Sonnenblume

Hay field as observed from within a wetland reserve, with so-called “invasive” plants in foreground

The other day I went into the nearby town of Sebastapol to do grocery shopping. In no hurry to return to the sweltering heat of the farm, I went to a wetland reserve on the edge of town to seek some shade by water. I found a good spot to enjoy and on the way I stopped to take this photo to share with my readers.

Between the path and border of the reserve is mostly Himalayan Blackberries and Poison Hemlock, both much maligned as “invasive” plants, as well as a collection of other “weedy” plants below them, at least some also categorized that way. Beyond the border is a huge irrigated field of what I assume is a hay crop because it’s grass (or grasses). Beyond that is a line of trees, mostly native Oaks. I don’t know what’s on the other side of the trees, but the landscape of Sonoma County is dominated by agriculture, vineyards more often than not. Indeed, I was surprised to see a crop that wasn’t wine grapes. Oaks also grew along the path, and their branches are hanging down in the top of the photo.

The very first Blackberries were ripening, and no flowers remained. The clusters of berries, resembling loose bunches of grapes, dangled invitingly towards the path, but most were still green, only a few were red, and precious few dark purple. I’m happy to report that I got to enjoy a single, perfect juicy one, sweetened by the sun. I’m looking forward to more!

The Hemlock was past flowering but its fruits were not yet dried into seeds. The foliage was drained of its vibrant green but was not yet desiccated. Given that they are not perennial, I was seeing these plants near the end of their lives, at their peak of maturity, fulfilling their raison d’être: to reproduce.

Environmentalist & anti-war goals go hand-in-hand

April 3, 2024 by Kollibri terre Sonnenblume

The remains of Japanese dead, equipment and caved-in bunkers on ‘Scraggy Hill’ which was captured by 10th Gurkha rifles in fierce fighting in the Shenam area during the Battle of Imphal, 1944.

I’ve been anti-war as long as I can remember. When I got a call from a military recruiter in high school, I already had the clarity of conviction to give him an unambiguous no, and he didn’t have any chance of budging me (although he tried). Everything I’ve learned about war since then only increased my dedication to the principle.

As the song goes: “War can’t give life. It can only take it away.”

I’ve also been a tree-hugger for as long as I remember and for me, my anti-war ethic resonates in harmony with my opposition to the needless killing of any living creature, including plants.

The human toll of warfare is tragic beyond accounting in lives brutally cut short, grievous injuries suffered, cultural heritage lost (museums, religious structures, libraries, schools) and to vital infrastructure destroyed (hospitals, power plants, reservoirs). War as now fought has been with us at least since the establishment of agriculture, and as technology has advanced, its devastating abilities have escalated. Last century was the bloodiest in human history and we must we must make sure that record stands. Armed conflict at that scale with the current arsenal would be nightmarish beyond reckoning.

Less spoken of, but gaining increasing attention, are war’s effects on the environment. Not just active war-making, but the consequences of all the industries, institutions and infrastructure that supports it; what we could put together under the heading of “militarism. Effects include the ruination of habitat and farmland by battle, the killing and disruption of wildlife, the release of lethal pollutants, the damaging processes of weapon manufacturing, and the large-scale release of carbon emissions. Over all this hangs the threat of a nuclear winter, the worst environmental disaster imaginable.

A landscape dammed by beavers, grazed by elk, monitored by wolves and shaped by fire

February 10, 2024 by Kollibri terre Sonnenblume

Aerial view of Willamette Valley, Oregon [Oregon Department of Transportation, CC BY 2.0]

An excerpt from the book Nikki Hill and I are working on, working title, “Don’t Blame the Messengers: A critique of the ‘invasive plant’ narrative.”

Let’s picture ourselves in a hot air balloon, floating over a valley. Below us is a patchwork of agricultural fields, encompassed by straight lines and precise angles, crisscrossed by ribbons of asphalt and gravel; a landscape of human geometry continuous except for the wends and bends of rivers and streams. The hundreds of fenced polygons vary in hue over the season as different crops bloom: yellow Canola, Camelina or Mustard; white Meadowfoam; blue Flax; crimson or pink Clover.

Every crop is planted with the goal of maximum density: Wheat is drill–seeded in crowded blocks. Wine grapes hang on trellises hundreds of feet long. Hops climb wires held 15-20’ high by tall pols. Peppermint, purple-stemmed and glossy-leafed, is packed into wide files. Sunflowers stand shoulder to shoulder. Hazelnut orchards are as precisely laid out as military cemeteries. Close rows of Christmas tree march up the slopes where the soil is rockier. Nurseries raise hundreds of species of landscaping plants in thousands of plastic pots set out in the sun, under shade cloth, or in hoop-houses. Animal agriculture is also here, and a few pastures hold cows, goats or sheep, being raised for meat, milk or fiber, and some long sheds cruelly confine chickens and pigs. The feed grain for these unhappy creatures is imported from other regions.

Only here and there do we see plots of vegetables bound for farmers markets and grocery stores, such as Kale, Cilantro, Summer Squash, Beets, Radishes, Sweet Corn, and Pumpkins.

The biggest crop by far in this valley is grass seed, as in grass for lawns and golf courses. Virtually the entire US production of Annual Ryegrass, Perennial Ryegrass, Bentgrass, and Fine Fescue comes from here.ⁱ Over 50% of the total farmland is planted in grass seed.

This is the Willamette Valley in the US state of Oregon, one of the most ideal locations for agriculture in the lower 48 due to its fertile soils, abundant water, mild winters and reasonable summers.

Reindigenizing the Anthropocene

May 24, 2021 by Kollibri terre Sonnenblume

Camas, a Native American first food of the western US, as observed at the Eloheh Indigenous Center for Earth Justice in Oregon [photo by author]

This essay is a response to “Redefining the Anthropocene,” by Erik Molvar, which was published on Counterpunch on May 13, 2021. I recommend that it be read first.

First let me first stress that I am not calling out Molvar personally or even specifically here. As a staunch opponent of livestock grazing on public lands, I greatly value the work of the Western Watersheds Project, of which Molvar is the executive director, and I definitely encourage people to support the organization. As for my critique of his article, what I see as an omission his part is common in environmental circles and is by no means his alone. Also, as I attempt to illustrate a bigger picture, I depart from the context of his article, and it’s entirely possible that we are in accord once I do so, and that his omission was merely an oversight.

Secondly, I totally agree with Molvar that we must work to restore “natural, functioning ecosystems” on the planet, and that this work must include both the prevention of “artificially-caused extinctions” and the protection of “healthy ecosystems.” I also support the campaign he mentions that seeks to safeguard 30% of the planet by 2030 and 50% by 2050.

Where Molvar falls short, in my opinion, is in the view he presents of “humanity.” To illustrate what I mean, here are a few snippets:

“I propose a new definition of the Anthropocene, as the age in which humanity has become not only recklessly out of balance with nature but also an overwhelming negative force of ecological destruction.”
“By recognizing the Anthropocene as the period where humankind has gotten out of balance with nature…”
“It’s our fault, as a species. All of it… That’s where humanity, with our monomania for economic growth and exploitation of natural resources, is right now as a species.”

What’s missing in these quotations, and indeed in the rest of the article, is any reference to indigenous humanity, past or present. I contend that with that omission, we cannot comprehend what “natural, functioning ecosystems” are nor how to return to behaviors that encourage them.

This is for two reasons:

1) Many of the “natural, functioning ecosystems” we hope to restore included indigenous humans as a key element. They were participants in the dynamic equilibrium of their ecologies as much as the flora, fauna, fungus, etc. We can compare their absence to the lack of any other species, like Buffalo to prairies, Beavers to riparian zones, or Wolves everywhere. When they are gone, nothing works the same as it did.

2) As “civilized” humans, we are handicapped by cultural traditions that not only disconnect us from what is wild, collectively and individually, but actively work to suppress what is wild. We’ve got too much baggage and too many blinders to take on the task of wild restoration on our own. We need the help of our indigenous kin to find our way back. (Note: coming from a primitivist perspective, I use the terms “civilized” and “civilization” in a literal sense to denote urban/agricultural societies as opposed to gatherer-hunter/wildtending cultures, and do not attach a positive or admirable value to them.)

This is What Collapse Looks Like

July 22, 2020 by Kollibri terre Sonnenblume

It’s time to normalize the word, “collapse,” to describe the ongoing conditions in the US.

Some would counter it’s well past time—and I won’t argue with that—but I’d say we can no longer credibly claim that it’s too early to make this call.

“Decline” has been happening for decades at this point, as manifested in trends such as increasing class inequality, decreasing wages (as relative to inflation), higher infant mortality, lower life expectancy, a disintegrating social safety net, explosive growth of the prison-industrial complex, deteriorating educational system, etc. More and more people have been feeling the squeeze in their efforts to get by, even if establishment voices make claims to the contrary about “recovery.”

But “collapse” is more than “decline.” It’s when the system has lost enough integrity that it’s gone beyond the point of no return. With the multiple levels of disruption that have accompanied the COVID pandemic, we have passed that point.

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