I hope you get better soon

From Chocolate & Vicodin: My Quest for Relief from the Headache that Wouldn’t Go Away by Jennette Fulda:

I was greeting guests at my book release party at a local Italian restaurant. I entertained the crowd with a smile and shoved the headache into the darkest corner of my mind. No one mentioned it, and I made sure not to bring it up. I’d stopped blogging about the headache, too, because I was sick of talking about it. I was sick of the way people tilted their heads and scrunched up their faces in sympathy when I told them about the headache. I was sick of hearing “I hope you get better soon,” because it reminded me that I might never get better, either sooner or later, and I was not ready to accept that. I was sick of people telling me what they thought was causing my headache, because they were really just telling me what had been the cause of their own headaches or their friends’ headaches. I was sick of being sick.

Invasive species – making the best of a bad situation

Thus they made a covenant at Beersheba. So Abimelech rose with Phichol, the commander of his army, and they returned to the land of the Philistines. Then Abraham planted a tamarisk tree in Beersheba, and there called on the name of the LORD, the Everlasting God. And Abraham stayed in the land of the Philistines many days. Genesis 21:31-33

Tamarisk

Tamarisk Tree by Robert Wallace on Flickr

A few thousand years after Abraham purportedly planted a tamarisk tree to mark his treaty with Abimelech, the Middle Eastern tree came to America. Gardeners thought it pretty, and drought tolerance gave it a place in the widespread ‘shelterbelts’ built during the Great Depression as giant windbreaks to help control drought and erosion. While these shelterbelts did help some farmers, using tamarisk had unintended consequences.

Tamarisk Seeds

Tamarisk seeds, ready to be blown to new habitats

See, tamarisk didn’t stay where we planted it. Like dandelions, lightweight tamarisk seeds float on the wind – and an adult tamarisk can make a quarter billion seeds in a year. Since the 1930s, those little seeds have spread over two million acres of riparian habitat.

In its new home in southwestern America, tamarisk forms very dense stands – seedlings have been found at densities of 16 thousand in a square meter. In addition to crowding out native plant species, tamarisk makes the chance that native species can compete with it even lower by changing the very environment it inhabits. It has remarkably high rates of evapotranspiration – so the soil is drier and the streams tamarisk grows along have reduced flows. Its enormous and deep root system does more than suck up all the water: as the roots spread into streams, they slow streamflow, increase buildup of silt, and can eventually rechannel the river or stream. Tamarisk also pulls salt out of the soil and concentrates it in its leaves. Over time, as tamarisk pulls the salt from deep soil and drops its leaves, the top soil becomes too salty for other species to survive. Tamarisk has totally changed the nature of many southwestern streams, and control is difficult and expensive:

When control is needed, saltcedar is difficult or impossible to kill by burning, drought, freezing, hypersalinity, prolonged submersion, or repeated cutting at ground level.

Dense stand of tamarisk along the Colorado River by Rachel Zurer on Flickr

ResearchBlogging.org Tamarisk’s story isn’t unique. Fast spreading non-native species that cause economic and ecological problems are, unfortunately, quite common. Many invasives are introduced on purpose before we know what they can do – like tamarisk or starlings. Others just hitch a ride in our boats or food. Regardless of our intentions, we don’t have anyone but ourselves to blame for the sometimes catastrophic consequences of invasive species. (It is important to distinguish invasive from non-invasive introduced species.)

Invasive species are number four on Novacek and Cleland’s list of big things we’re doing to screw up the world. For more on their paper “The current biodiversity extinction event: Scenarios for mitigation and recovery,” check out these posts:

Novacek and Cleland charge scientists with figuring out exactly how invasive species are changing ecosystems and how problematic those changes are. Perhaps most important, they urge us to consider how other human activities worsen the invasive species problem:

The probability and impact of biotic exchange is also closely tracked to other drivers, such as land use policy and introduction of excess nitrogen deposition through use of fertilizers.

We can’t make a case for spending money on removing invasive species or changing human activities when we can’t draw strong connections between the invasive and a problem or the activity and the invasive.

Their policy recommendations are smart and hinge on the idea that a healthy ecosystem and healthy communities are less susceptible to invasion, or at least severe invasions. Their first major suggestion is to keep habitats from getting too fragmented. If communities become ‘patchy’ –  split up by cities and golf courses and farms – gene flow exchange and movement of the natives is restricted, preventing them from fighting the onslaught of the invasive species on a somewhat equal playing field.

Their other suggestion is to make sure that normal ‘disturbance regimes’ are maintained. If a location has frequent flooding or fire, for example, the native species are adapted to it, whereas the invasive non-native species probably isn’t. By letting a location flood or burn as it did before we built our dams or started suppressing fire, we may give native species a competitive edge.

 

Tamarisk and other scrub used to build bee lodge by greenheron47 on Flickr

One promising solution that Novacek and Cleland didn’t mention is human use of invasive species. We cause the invasive species problem because we’re so mobile, and we make it worse because of the way we change the land, but we also have the potential to dramatically reduce both the impact of many invasive species and our own negative impacts while improving our lives and economy.

For example, many invasive species are edible, like crayfish in the west or garlic mustard in the midwest. By eating invasive species (harvested from invaded landscapes, not grown!), we could reduce the impact of invasive species on ecosystems, boost our economy (jobs for harvesting!), save money (groceries from the weed filled lot!), and reduce our use of pesticides and oil (less factory farming!).

Not all invasive species are tasty, but almost all probably have other uses. Tamarisk, for example, has interesting and beautiful bark. I’ve seen young tamarisk used to good effect as a privacy fence. Many invasive species form extensive monocultures that could potentially be harvested for biofuels. Some could be turned into fertilizer or compost.

Invasive species removal is usually pretty expensive and often relies on volunteer efforts. And in many places, as soon as the funding and volunteers dry up, the invasives come back. But humans are incredible consumers and there are an awful lot of us – finding a use and a market for invasive species could keep them under control and give natives more of a chances.

1 Novacek, M. (2001). The current biodiversity extinction event: Scenarios for mitigation and recovery. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 98 (10), 5466-5470 DOI: 10.1073/pnas.091093698

Take my money – or not

I had a netflix subscription, but then I switched to linux – and netflix doesn’t work on linux because of crappy DRM stuff.

I thought about getting an Amazon Prime subscription, but the instant video selection is beyond terrible.

I signed up for Hulu Plus, but I’ll have to cancel my subscription once I move – it’s not available in Canada.

Do the tv and movie companies want people to steal from them?

Send me to the Ecological Society of America meeting!

By August, I’m usually more than a little frustrated with my research and feeling overwhelmed. But then I go to the annual Ecological Society of America meeting. I leave brimming with ideas and renewed excitement and motivation.

ESA is awesome…

I love hearing about the latest research in my particular subfield, and I’m inspired by research seemingly unrelated to mine. I love meeting the scientists behind the research I admire. I love presenting and discussing my research with scientists who know about four million times more than me. I love all the dinners and coffee breaks spent geeking out about ecology and catching up with friends and colleagues.  Basically, ESA is more fun than Christmas.

but expensive.

Attending ESA isn’t cheap. A hotel and restaurants for 5 days, a plane ticket, and conference registration add up fast. The first two years I attended, I was funded by the ESA SEEDS program, which seeks to include more underrepresented students in ecology. The students and mentors I’ve met through SEEDS are incredible. Last year, my travel was covered under a grant that paid for almost all of my research in 2009-2010.

This year, I had hoped to attend ESA as a SEEDS alumni and peer mentor, but my application was turned down – not surprising considering how remarkable the other SEEDS students are! I also applied for travel funding from the ESA Student Section, but my application for that award was rejected, too. (Would you believe that they had way more applicants than usual this year?)

I’m getting my registration reimbursed by volunteering at the conference, and I’m trimming my hotel bill by sharing a room with 3 4 other people. A good stash of granola bars cuts down on the food cost. But I’m still looking at about $1000 to attend this year.  ESA is totally worth that amount, but I thought that if I shared ESA with you lovely readers, you might be willing to foot part of the bill.

Trade?

So here’s the deal: for every $100 donated, I’ll interview one amazing ecologist at ESA and write a post about it. If you have particular ecologists, topics, or questions in mind, email me or leave a comment!

You can make a donation using Flattr or PayPal.

How to elect Michele Bachmann

Why a respectful tone in political discussions is really, really important:

Bachmann claimed that back in her college days, she was up one night praying with a female friend of hers when “the Lord gave each one of us the same, exact vision… It was a picture of me, marrying this man, in the valley where his parents have a farm in western Wisconsin.” Meanwhile, miles away, Marcus “was repairing a fence on the farm where he worked, and the Lord showed him in a vision that he was supposed to marry me.” According to Bachmann, Marcus initially complained to God that he wanted to see the world first, and only later relented.

Snickering readers in New York or Los Angeles might be tempted by all of this to conclude that Bachmann is uniquely crazy. But in fact, such tales by Bachmann work precisely because there are a great many people in America just like Bachmann, people who believe that God tells them what condiments to put on their hamburgers, who can’t tell the difference between Soviet Communism and a Stafford loan, but can certainly tell the difference between being mocked and being taken seriously. When you laugh at Michele Bachmann for going on MSNBC and blurting out that the moon is made of red communist cheese, these people don’t learn that she is wrong. What they learn is that you’re a dick, that they hate you more than ever, and that they’re even more determined now to support anyone who promises not to laugh at their own visions and fantasies. [emphasis mine]

Plans and headaches – self pity edition

From Chocolate & Vicodin: My Quest for Relief from the Headache that Wouldn’t Go Away by Jennette Fulda:

One Friday I was driving home from work, thinking about my headache as I always did, when I passed a theater marquee that said the band Stars was playing that night. I smiled quickly at the the thought of one of my favorite bands and then consciously relaxed my face. Smiling hurt. So did laughing. I frequently pretended that my forehead had been Botoxed so I wouldn’t flex the facial muscles that aggravated my headache.

I wanted to park my car on the street and buy a ticket to the concert, but I drove home to my apartment instead. The theater would be filled with cigarette smoke, which would make my head hurt even more. The headache was a chaperone preventing me from going out. There was no world outside the headache. There were no concerts or parties. My world was limited to the cubic dimensions of my skull.

I collapsed on my love seat and turned on the TV. I watched the local news, hoping to hear about someone whose life was worse than mine. The worst they could deliver were people upset about their property taxes.