|
As a biologist, I find the focus on single species or individuals very depressing.
Perhaps the best example of this in California is the Valley Elderberry Longhorn Beetle.
This beetle traditionally lived in elderberry shrubs that were part of large, lowland riparian complexes. (Yes, there are some upland beetles, but that's not the center of their population.) Most lowland riparian areas have been cleared for agriculture, leading to the beetle's becoming endangered. Since the beetles live in elderberry shrubs, all elderberry shrubs are considered potential habitat.
If you want to build a project, such as a road, you have to go through and look for elderberries. If any elderberries are found, then one of two things transpires: the elderberries are fenced off and construction takes place around them, or the elderberries are cut down and replacement elderberries are planted in a mitigation bank.
In the first case, you've got random elderberries totally disconnected from whatever the habitat was before, and in the second case you've got VAST fields of elderberries growing as a monoculture.
I am not making any of this up. It's really that ridiculous.
Of course I am a firm believer in saving the beetle, but it makes a hell of a lot more sense to me to create large riparian preserves where the valley elderberry longhorn beetle, the Bell's vireo, the yellow-billed cuckoo, the Swainson's hawk, the yellow-breasted chat, the riparian brush rabbit, the riparian woodrat, and other endangered species can do their thing.
The current focus seems to be a nickel-and-dime approach, and it's maddening both for environmentalists and for developers.
The real pisser is that the Endangered Species Act is a powerful tool for stopping development, but it's used as sort of a "get out of jail free" card by environmentalists instead of being used as a comprehensive, game-winning, "get Broadway, Park Place, Pennsylvania, North Carolina, and Pacific" strategy.
The Panoche solar farm project is a decent example of this. Environmentalists are using the kit fox to try to get the project stopped. Yes, the site is important habitat for the kit fox, but using the kit fox in such a manner both gives the developers a way out and leads to myopia on the part of the environmentalists. The developers can say, "Well, we'll survey for kit foxes and put up mitigation measures for that species," while totally missing the point that lost habitat is lost habitat. Under the law, minor concessions are considered acceptable. Meanwhile, environmentalists are stuck in the position where the kit fox becomes the sine qua non of the landscape, and the relationship of the kit fox to its habitat and to the other species in that habitat is lost.
Back to the topic of the article, is a species without a habitat meaningful?
There's an animated movie coming out about the Spix's macaw, which is extinct in the wild. There's a captive population, but the connection between the species and everything around it has been severed. Perhaps at some point the species will be healthy enough for a re-introduction, but right now the species is just a curiosity. I wouldn't go so far as to say that it may as well be literally extinct, but that's about the size of it.
I'd love to see a real economic analysis of the amount of money put forth in saving a species like the VELB (and the cuckoo, and the vireo, and the willow flycatcher, and the kit fox, and so forth) versus the cost of land and water within the range of the species. I am deeply curious about how many acres of habitat could have been purchased and restored while biologists have been out counting stems and looking for exit holes.
I almost think that we should be taking a Darwinian approach, where once a certain threshold of suitable habitat is secured, the species should be delisted and left to live or die on its own merits. Of course, my definition of what that threshold should be is probably much larger than most people in the state would agree to. :D
Meanwhile, I've got three elderberries planted in the back yard. :D
|