Remove Invasive Plants: It’s Good for Wildlife and Gardens

English ivy (Hedera helix)

A little neglect goes a long way (English ivy takes over).


I’m embarrassed to admit
that when I first moved to the Pacific Northwest in 1990, before I knew much about regional native plants, I thought that foxgloves were native plants. Why? Because I encountered them in natural areas. Luckily I know much better now, and—with the exception of some infrequently traveled trails in remote corners of the world—I cannot remember a hike where I haven’t encountered invasive plants (and sometimes a terribly large number of them). Areas close to urban areas are hardest hit, but even ecosystems far from the madding crowd can suffer from their effects.Digitalis purpurea

Invasive plants are nonnatives that were—and continue to be—brought here either intentionally by the nursery trade (or agriculture), or accidentally (as packing material and such). Thousands of species have been brought to North America, and we’ve sent many of ours abroad. All this rearranging of the earth’s flora started innocently enough centuries ago, but experts fear that it’s reached a point where biological diversity is severely threatened  and essential interactions, like pollination, are damaged. Foxglove (Digitalis purpurea), as lovely as a biennial can be, may not be one of the worst offenders, but it doesn’t stay put with its billions of tiny seeds, and shows up in places it doesn’t belong, basically making life miserable for the plants that do. More problematic species often reproduce in several ways: For example, Himalayan blackberry and English ivy (shown above) and its cultivars, both spread via rooting stems and by fruits eaten and dispersed by wildlife. Both suppress and exclude native vegetation to form dense monocultures, entirely unsuitable as wildlife habitat. English ivy is capable of one other feat, if left alone: taking down entire trees.

Of course, not all nonnative plants pose horrendous problems, but those that do run amok do it because whatever checks—soils, predators, pathogens—kept them in balance in their native land are lacking here. Consequently, they do so well that they’re able to spread fairly easily from yards or agricultural areas into natural areas that support native species that can’t compete; the natives have no defense, become overwhelmed by the newcomers, and die out. This is particularly devastating for uncommon or endangered plants. In addition, the spread of invasives (plant, animals, and pathogens) has economic ramifications.

Deadly for wildlife
While habitat loss due to deforestation, urban sprawl, livestock grazing, and agriculture is the greatest threat to the variety of life on Earth, invasive plants contribute greatly to the tragic loss of biodiversity. Since native plants are essential for native fauna (especially specialist species that can only use a certain plant or plants), animals suffer from the demise of native plants that they may use for forage or other purposes. And some are actually poisonous. It’s not unusual for cedar waxwings to be poisoned by the fruit of heavenly bamboo (Nandina domestica). And this past winter, many wild elk and pronghorn died horrible deaths in Idaho after foraging on Japanese yew (Taxus japonica), which is considered invasive in some states. Hungry bears also have been poisoned in Pennsylvania by English yew (Taxus baccata), and other animals—including livestock and people—can also be poisoned. Instead of nonnative yews, we can plant regional/local yews that wildlife coevolved with. The Pacific Northwest’s yew, Taxus brevifolia, which provides food and cover for many wild species, is the best choice from British Columbia to northern California and east to Montana, at mid to high elevations. Sadly, this attractive understory shrub that grows beneath conifers is in trouble due to over-harvesting for medicine, as well as the logging industry.

Hard work pays off
Recent research from the Seychelles, an archipelago in the Indian Ocean, shows that sweat and funds invested in eradication can pay off for all sorts of pollinators (bees, butterflies, beetles, birds, reptiles), for the native plants themselves, and for the whole ecosystem. Following the removal of nearly 40,000 invasive shrubs on four mountaintops on one island, researchers monitored the remaining native plants for visits from pollinators. Eight months of observation later, “Ecosystem restoration resulted in a marked increase in pollinator species, visits to flowers and interaction diversity.” Essentially, even during the rather short test period , it was found that both the number of pollinators and their interactions with plants and each other were over 20% higher in the test areas than in control plots (where the invasive shrubs had been left alone). And, the test area native plants also produced more flowers and fruit than those in control areas. Restoration works!


WHAT YOU CAN DO

Eradicate them (go on, git!). Early detection and removal  is crucial to stopping an invasive plant in its tracks, especially if you live near a natural area. To make it feasible, and If you have a variety of invasives, pace yourself—perhaps get rid of one species a week (or one a month or season, depending on the infestation). I strongly recommend forgoing pesticides and manually digging them out whenever possible. Digging when the soil isn’t saturated is best, to prevent destroying the soil structure that results when working wet soil. And if your arch-enemies grow on a slope, be sure to replace them with native erosion controllers (Oregon white oak, madrone, oceanspray, red-twig dogwood, Nootka rose, salal, sword fern, etc.) as soon as you can.

At the very least, cut stems off at the soil level well before plants go to seed (it can happen quickly!). Some species can then be covered with a dark sheet (not plastic, which will prevent moisture from reaching the soil and kill soil life), to block out light. Left for 6 months to a year, it will prevent photosynthesis; afterwards, check to see if you need to dig out any more live roots. Persistence usually pays off. In hard to reach places, repeatedly cut down or yank out leafy stems—eventually the plant will die from the lack of energy that sunlight provides. The morning glory vines that come from under a dense shrub in my yard get weaker every year because we continually pull out what we see. I seriously think this year may be their last.

One exception to the get-it-out-as-fast-as-you-can rule: If the invasive plants are providing some habitat for wildlife (nesting sites or food or cover),
do a soft eviction and take them out incrementally, rather than all at once. This will avoid completely eliminating the habitat and causing undue stress to wildlife.

Herb robert (Geranium robertianum) an invasive plant

Stinky Bob: Pretty, but very assertive in natural areas & gardens.

Remember that some seeds can survive for many years. When I first started gardening in my yard, there were a lot of Robert’s geranium (Geranium robertianum) a.k.a. “Stinky Bob”. Dutifully I pulled all the plants before seeds had set, but the next year they were back due to the previous year’s seeds. I pulled them again and again, always before they flowered. Fifteen years later, I’m still pulling, but this year there were only two plants. Moral of the story: some seeds can stay viable a very long time, so don’t you dare let up on your weeding. But of course neglected neighboring yards can supply seeds as well, so it’s a continual process. Before planting natives, wait at least a season after the initial removal. Weed again, and then plant. It may not eliminate the seeds, but it should cut down on future sprouts and will give the natives the best chance at taking control again.

Know what you’re planting. Don’t buy newly introduced plants that lack a track record, or seed mixes that may contain invasive seeds, especially ones labeled just “wildflowers.” If you want a wildflower meadow or prairie-style garden, buy only seeds that you know are native to your location and you won’t have to worry. Even though many native “pioneer species” (especially annuals) can be quite assertive, if they spread enthusiastically they won’t wreak havoc on the environment. Species from different regions of the country can be problematic, not just those from Europe or Asia, so go with local native plants whenever possible.

Speak up if you notice plants for sale that are problematic.  I’ve seen Arum italicum and Vinca minor and many others for sale at local retail nurseries, even though they’re on my city’s Nuisance List. (And I’ve seen Stinky Bob, too!) You see, just because plants are deemed invasive or a “nuisance” species, doesn’t mean they can’t be sold—the only plants that are illegal to sell in a particular state are those that have been officially listed as a state noxious weed. But if enough of us educate retailers, hopefully they will pull the plants from their catalog/stores.

Besides eliminating invasives in our yards, we need to be very careful about what we’re dragging into natural areas on our hiking boots or sneakers. Plant material like seeds can get stuck in the tread of shoes, and some stick like velcro to laces, like the seeds of the aptly named forget-me-not. And backpacks and pant cuffs can harbor and release seeds, as well as dogs’ paws and fur. When I encountered Stinky Bob in a beautiful natural area last year in the Columbia Gorge; it had already spread over a slope as big as my back yard. No doubt someone unknowingly carried the seed there and the plant that resulted liked it there—a lot.

Tell others about the harm that invasives pose.

Join a local invasive plant eradication effort.

♦ If you see infestations in natural areas report them to the local soil and water conservation district or to a invasives hotline like Oregon’s www.oregoninvasiveshotline.org.

Better choices
Depending on your location and conditions, what are some possible native substitutes for the overzealous travelers, once they’re removed? For English ivy (and cultivars), consider salal (Gaultheria shallon), kinnikinnick (Arctostaphylos uva-ursi), sword fern (Polystichum munitum), star-flowered false solomon’s seal (Maianthemum stellatum), inside-out flower (Vancouveria hexandra), or Cascade Oregon grape (Mahonia nervosa). Himalayan blackberry might be replaced with thimbleberry (Rubus parviflorus), salmonberry (Rubus spectabilis), or black-cap raspberry (Rubus leucodermis var. leucodermis). Arum could be succeeded by false solomon’s seal (Maiantheum racemosum) or vanilla leaf (Achyls triphylla). Vinca could be ousted by piggyback plant (Tolmiea menziesii), broadpetal strawberry (Frageria virginiana), or oxalis (Oxalis oregana or O. suksdorfii). And Stinky Bob might sublet his space to Western bleeding heart (Dicentra formosa), Oregon geranium (Geranium oreganum), or licorice fern (Polypodium glycyrrhiza).

Herb robert

This huge clump of Geranium robertianum (Stinky Bob)—that’s pushed out native species—probably started with just one seed.

 

© 2017 Eileen M. Stark

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Cultivating Compassion in the Garden (and Beyond)

painted turtles

Whether they’re hidden within fur farms or factory farms or other atrocious places—mistreated and maligned for profit—or in plain sight and struggling within unraveling ecosystems that disappear a little more each day, the suffering of non-human animals due to our expansion and behavior is everywhere. On an ecological level, the most devastating consequence of our ubiquitous presence is the disappearance of wild species that just need to be left alone. They want to live on, and in peace, just as we do. They have just as much right to exist without harm and suffering as we do.

Habitat destruction (including that caused by climate change) is not painless and is the main threat to most wild flora and faunas: Less than four percent of original U.S. forests remain; oceans are dying; waterways are heavily polluted with toxics; a new study shows that in the past 20 years we’ve managed to destroy a tenth of the earth’s wild areas. Half of North American bird species are predicted to go extinct by the end of this century and some especially sensitive amphibians are already there. We’re the most invasive, destructive, and over-consuming species ever to walk the earth, and it’s costing us the earth, as well as our health and happiness.hermit thrush

Our big brains are burdensome as we thoughtlessly invent things that damage and destroy, but they’re also an asset when we realize our obligation to protect and sustain. Habits of exploitation can be broken. We can stop pretending that everything is fine or beyond our control, and realize that we are very much a part of nature. We don’t have to, for example, conform to having manicured, high maintenance, lawn-dominated landscapes that require massive chemical and fossil fuel applications just because other people have them. We can make choices based on caring what happens to those downstream, just as we wish those upstream would to do to us.

When our species was young, we weren’t separated from nature. Even now, within our bubbles that disconnect, we enter this world not with a fear of natural processes and wild creatures, but with an intense curiosity. But as kids we learn to be fearful—we’re taught to fear the proverbial “big bad wolf,” and trepidation of wildlife and natural processes continue throughout many people’s lives. Education can help change that, and even awaken us to the awe-inspiring, interconnected layers that nature has fashioned over eons of evolution.

Courtesy Predator Defense

Photo courtesy Predator Defense

Just as essential is empathy for other species (that is, looking at their world from their point of view, with compassion). It may be our most important capability and what is sorely needed to bring some balance to the earth’s members. When we allow empathy to guide our choices and practices, we act selflessly and gain empowerment along the way. Changing our ways isn’t always difficult and some changes can be very simple; it just takes some thought and a little motivation. With compassion we can defiantly say “no” to synthetic toxic chemicals crafted by mega corporations that discriminate against other species and seek to control the natural world, “no” to wasteful monoculture lawns, and “no” to merely decorative plants with zero wildlife appeal. We can say “yes” to planning gardens that not only look pretty but also benefit and sustain other species,  “yes” to keeping Fluffy and Fido away from birds, “yes” to keeping outdoor lights off and making windows visible to birds, and “yes” to initiatives and politicians that seek to preserve and protect natural areas. There are, of course, countless other ways to express compassion for the planet outside the garden.

It’s easy to think that the war against wildlife—from the microorganisms within degraded soil to persecuted predators trying to survive on a human-dominated planet—is happening somewhere “out there.” While a huge percentage of wild lands are dominated by livestock ranching that has “caused more damage than the chainsaw and bulldozer combined,” urban and suburban spaces—including the roughly 40 million acres of land that’s currently lawn—offer an important conservation opportunity and a way for us to personally provide for others right at home.

It’s equally easy to be pulled down by the ticking extinction clock, but once we turn our backs on conventional gardening, we become part of a conversion—or revolution, if you will—that is proactive. Learn how healthy, balanced ecosystems function; watch native plants (especially when grown with others that co-occur in the Native bumblebee on Vancouveria hexandraarea) attract and support a diversity of native insects and other creatures; recognize the  bees and the flower flies and the birds that depend directly or indirectly on those plant communities; discover their life cycle and how to keep them healthy and protected. Plant trees, let the leaves do their thing, allow the dead wood to stay, and forget about pesticides and synthetic fertilizers. If we do all that we’ll find ourselves more connected and caring even more about what happens within the dwindling, wilder ecosystems on this beautiful planet, and wondering how even more beautiful it will be if more of us empathize with others’ lives.

 

© 2016 Eileen M. Stark

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Gifts of the Oregon White Oak (Quercus garryana)

Quercus garryana at Ridgefield NWR


Spring still seems out of reach
, so while we’re awaiting balmier days, let’s take a moment to appreciate some of nature’s subtle, yet generous gifts. We owe everything to the natural world and even modest contact with it refreshes and offers solace. While contemplating the obvious things that nature provides—food, water, air—it’s easy to overlook the little (and not so little) things.

Plants, the primary producers on this planet, belong to irreplaceable, intricate ancient ecosystems, within which they support and depend on other species—both flora and fauna— to survive. I like to think of it as everlasting give and take. This post honors one of my favorite Pacific Northwest natives whose gifts are mammoth. Quercus garryana, commonly called Oregon white oak (or “Garry oak” by those in British Columbia and Washington), is a slow-growing, very long-lived, majestic, deciduous tree that, with time, grows beautifully gnarly.

Wildlife hotspot

Late last fall, while strolling along a trail at Jackson Bottom Wetlands Preserve (just west of Portland), I was awestruck by the amount of life attracted to the broad canopy of just a single mature Oregon white oak: Visible and audible were multiple white-breasted nuthatches, black-capped chickadees, downy woodpeckers, and red-breasted sapsuckers, all busily going about their foraging business with such enthusiasm that all I could do was look upwards, my mouth agape. The birds weren’t seeking the tree’s acorns, which sustain many other birds, as well as mammals—they were consuming a tasty assortment of insect herbivores, which oak trees are particularly adept at generating. Studies show that the genus Quercus hosts more caterpillars and other insect life than any other genus in the northern hemisphere. This proficiency is especially important during breeding season, when the vast majority of landbirds consume and feed their young highly nutritious insects or their larvae, and spiders—not seeds or fruit. Other studies show a higher diversity of bird species in oak forests than in nearby conifer forests.

Like other native foundation tree species, Oregon white oak peacefully regulates ecosystem processes like nutrient cycling and energy flow, creating benefits to wildlife (and the rest of us) that seem endless. Besides the obvious shade, beauty, and exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide these trees offer, inconspicuous flowers—which typically bloom in late spring—provide for pollinators like native bees, while the buds of forthcoming rounded, deeply lobed leaves play host to the larvae of gray hairstreak, California sister, and propertius duskywing butterflies.

In addition, cover, perches, and nesting habitat go to birds such as woodpeckers and vireos, as well as native squirrels. Oaks’ acorns sustain squirrels and other mammals, as well as many bird species. Fallen leaves, which might provide habitat for amphibians and reptiles, slowly break down into a rich leaf mold that supports soil-dwelling invertebrates and numerous fungi that allow neighboring plants to thrive. Sugars and carbon are provided for mycorrhizae, which reciprocate with nutrients for the trees. Intact bark creates microhabitat for mosses, as well as lichens that supply food, shelter, and nesting material, while loose bark (and twigs) contribute to nest building as well as browse for deer, which in turn feed carnivores like cougars.

And as oaks deteriorate with advanced age (which can be 500 years), they continue to deliver. Dead trees can last many years as snags, which provide food, nesting material, and housing to cavity nesters like owls, kestrels, and chickadees, as well as bats that may roost in old holes or under loose bark.

How it grows
Elevation, climate, soil, and water persuade Oregon white oak to vary immensely in habit and size. While it thrives in cool, coastal areas and near the edges of streams and wetlands where it tolerates seasonal flooding, it also flourishes in droughty inland sites where it may grow both individually and in groves on low hills surrounded by grasslands. When it occurs on gravelly sites or rocky slopes with thin soils, it often has a shrub-like or scrubby habit. Along the blustery Columbia River Gorge, where it grows with little rainfall and atop hundreds of feet of layered basalt, harshly battered trees grow gnarled and hang on thanks to an extensive and strong root system. But within the richer, deeper, riparian soils amongst tapestries of dazzling wildflowers and grasses in the Georgia Basin-Puget Trough-Willamette Valley ecoregion of British Columbia, Washington, and Oregon, it may act as a keystone structure, typically growing a very broad canopy, and reaching heights up to 100 feet over hundreds of years. The ecoregion includes savannas (grassland with trees scattered at least 100 feet apart), upland prairies (another type of grassland), wet prairies, and shady oak woodlands with a continuous or semi-open canopy. I’ll call them, collectively, prairie-oak ecosystems.

Endangered ecosystems
To really appreciate an oak, it’s helpful to know something about its unique ecosystems that once provided some of the richest habitat in the world. The historic range of Q. garryana stretches from low elevations of southwestern British Columbia (including Vancouver Island and nearby smaller islands) into California. In Washington, it occurs mainly west of the Cascades on Puget Sound islands and in the Puget Trough, and east along the Columbia River. In Oregon, it’s indigenous to the Willamette, Rogue River, and Umpqua Valleys, and within the Klamath Mountains.  

When pioneers and naturalists encountered prairie-oak ecosystems, they found a breathtakingly beautiful and rich mosaic of plant and animal life. Journals of early Oregonians described massive prairies with five-mile-wide dense forests of ash, alder, willow, and cottonwood that skirted meandering rivers within floodplains. Marshes and sloughs developed during high water periods but often dried out by late summer. At higher elevations within these forest corridors were oak and associated trees. Above the floodplains were upland prairies, filled with herbaceous plants and grasses that could tolerate the parched soil of summer, as well as winter wet. Oak woodlands stood on low hills above the valley floors, surrounded by grasslands.

But the landscape was not untouched or pristine. Aboriginal peoples managed parts of the ecosystems following the last glacial period, frequently using prescribed burning to boost edible plant productivity, hunt wildlife, limit the growth of conifers, and facilitate travel, particularly in the northern parts of the oak’s range. Harvesting of plants such as camas (Camassia spp.) and chocolate lily (Fritillaria affinis) also caused soil disturbance, but their eco-cultural manipulations pale greatly compared to what came later.

Since Euro-American settlement, as much as 99 percent of the original prairie-oak communities that were present in parts of the Pacific Northwest have been lost and many rare species dependent on them are at risk of extinction. Extensive destruction and fragmentation began with settlement in the 1850s, with clearing, plowing, livestock grazing, wildfire suppression, and cutting of trees for firewood and manufacturing. Prairie wetlands bejeweled with wildflowers were drained and ditched. Later, subsidies to ranchers encouraged more destructive grazing, while urban sprawl and agricultural use—fueled by human population increase—intensified. Invasion of nonnative species, and the encroachment of shade tolerant and faster growing species—that proliferate with fire suppression—outcompeted oaks and decimated additional native flora and fauna. Prairie-oak ecosystems and associated systems still continue to disappear at human hands, and isolation of the tiny remaining fragments prevents the migration of wildlife and healthy genetic material from one area to another. Other detrimental factors include diseases and parasites, climate change, and the loss of wildlife that cache acorns and perform other functions.  

Conservation
Despite continual destruction, there is a renewed and growing appreciation for the diversity and beauty of these habitats, motivated by recognition that we are responsible for what’s been destroyed, an admiration for the interconnected wild species the habitat supports, and a reverence for an iconic, magnificent tree. Intervention has become intensive, and Oregon oak restored grasslandcollaborations and partnerships—along with private landowners, who are key partners—are working to reverse the downward trend with preservation, restoration, and management tools, although “a major restoration challenge is restoring wet prairie habitat to a level at which it can maintain resistance to invasive species,” according to the Institute for Applied Ecology.

Regeneration of oak seedlings is essential, but is often difficult. Acorns look tough, but they are viable for only about a year and may be subject to parasitism, weather extremes, and genetic isolation. Consequently, just a small percentage become trees. Two independent studies determined that oak seedlings do best when caged, but protection from other deterrents—drought, competing plants, and rodents—is important, depending on location. Regional groups include the Garry Oak Ecosystems Recovery Team, South Puget Sound Prairie Landscape Working Group, and the Cascadia Prairie-Oak Partnership.

Try it at home
While the maintenance of only fragments of a past ecosystem is a poor alternative to former richness, if you live in the ecoregion (or other impoverished oak-dominated ecosystem) and want to help, choose this native tree. Even a single isolated tree can be a critical habitat structure on the landscape. It’s the only oak native to Washington and western Canada, and the dominant one in Oregon (black oak—Quercus kelloggii—is another beautiful and valuable large tree that occurs from Lane County, Oregon, south to Baja, at low to high elevations).

An Oregon white oak tree needs a mostly sunny, well-drained site that can accommodate its eventual size (20-50 feet wide, depending on spacing). Those grown on poor, dry, rocky sites will grow quite a bit smaller and have a shrubby habit. When planting more than one, space trees 20 to 60 feet apart, using the closest spacing only in dry, rocky terrain. It may be most helpful to visit a nearby natural area and then try to mimic nature’s arrangement.

To maintain genetic integrity, always choose trees or seeds that originated from trees close to your location and from similar terrain. For best results, plant dormant saplings in late fall after rains begin. After watering, apply about three inches of an organic mulch to reduce evaporation and keep weeds (that can steal water and nutrients) down. I prefer leaf compost, spread out to the tree’s drip line and kept at least a foot from the trunk to prevent rot.

Though this species is drought tolerant, provide ample summer water, deeply and infrequently, until established. During the first summer I like to water roughly every five days with about 10 gallons of water that’s applied so that it sinks in slowly. During the second and third summers, water once a week, 10-15 gallons, being sure to water out to the root zone and beyond—root spread can be up to twice that of the crown. If severe heat and prolonged droughts appear to be stressing a young tree, provide more water. After the first few years it may do fine on its own, but do water it (deeply) if it appears to be drought stressed. Keep the area well weeded and don’t stake trees unless they are in very windy areas—they’ll grow much stronger if left unsupported. Keep in mind that soil compaction, lawns and irrigation systems around water-sensitive oaks are a major cause of their decline in residential areas. Here is more info on how to plant Oregon white oak.

Grab a partner
As with other native species, oaks will function best when grown within a habitat and community type that consists of plants that evolved together and need the same conditions. Figuring out which community occurs in your area requires a walk in a nearby natural area where species, as well as nature’s organization, can be learned. Some associate trees that might thrive with your oak include Oregon ash (Fraxinus latifolia) on moist sites, and madrone (Arbutus menziesii) and ponderosa pine (Pinus ponderosa) on drier sites. For shrubs, consider california hazelnut (Corylus cornuta var. californica), Indian plum (Oemleria Aquilegia formosacerasiformis), serviceberry (Amelanchier alnifolia), snowberry (Symphoricarpos albus), oceanspray (Holodiscus discolor), red-twig dogwood (Cornus sericea), and tall Oregon grape (Mahonia aquifolium), depending on your location. Sword ferns (Polystichum munitum), orange or pink honeysuckle (Lonicera ciliosa or L. hispidula), fescues (Festuca spp.), and many wildflowers, including allium (Allium cernuum), camas (Camassia spp.), meadow checker mallow (Sidalcea campestris), western columbine (Aquilegia formosa), and shooting star (Dodecathon hendersonii) associate in different parts of its range.

To find out which habitat type and plant communities would likely have grown in your area, check out this Ecoregional Assessment, or query your county soil and water conservation district or native plant society chapter. The following publications may also be helpful:
~ Georgia Basin: Garry Oak Ecosystems Recovery Team
~ Willamette Valley: A Landowner’s Guide for Restoring and Managing Oregon White Oak Habitats
~ Puget Trough: Landowner guidebooks for South Puget Sound Prairies

 

© 2017 Eileen M. Stark

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One Hundred Years: John Muir’s Legacy Lives On

Multnomah Creek, Oregon

Several days ago I intended to post a fairly comprehensive tribute to the “Apostle of the Wild,” John Muir, who died a century ago on Christmas Eve, but a cold got the better of me. Muir was enthralled with the earth and I count his writings among those that stirred my passion for nature; he was one of the great thinkers who made a prominent impression on countless others.

A Scottish immigrant, Muir studied natural sciences at the University of Wisconsin but became a naturalist, conservationist, geologist, botanist, philosopher, poet, and eventually a public figure, through what he called the “University of Wilderness” (although many actual universities, including Harvard and Yale, later granted him honorary degrees). His writings “belonged to that tradition of British naturalists whose work was so fused with the writer’s personality and so penetrated by individual feeling that their output was as much literature as science,” opined the L.A. Times the day after his death in 1914. Muir dedicated his life to the preservation of wilderness areas and national parks.

Tragically, Muir’s legacy is under attack. But in “John Muir’s Last Stand,” Tom Butler and Eileen Crist celebrate the man and the gifts he left us, while defending a wilderness movement that protects the wild, for its own sake. I could not have said it better.

 

© 2014 Eileen M. Stark

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