Sunday, June 21, 2026

Happy solstice! Day of naked bike riding and promises of smoky air that summer brings (wildfire risk is already astronomically high all over Eastern Washington.... boooo). But my favorite part is that starting today, night is making a gradual comeback!! 


Every single day for the next six months, we get a little bit more darkness. As somebody who is really tired of it being bright when I go to bed and bright when I get up... I'm really looking forward to the days when I can put the bird feeder out before the dawn chorus instead of several hours afterwards. And I'm looking forward to the day when fairy lights are a thing again. 

In general, the beginning of summer carries the end with it and I appreciate that anyways. A lack of light at the end of the incandescent tunnel! Hizzah!!

Not to say summer is all bad. Everything is sumptuously fertile and vivaciously green right now. All the wildflowers in our yard are going bonkers and we have a shocking variety of bee species, birds, butterflies and bugs enjoying our chaotic fairy garden.


Then of course there are all the baby birds (squeeeeee!) and a handful of outdoor adventures to be had. 

 Last Saturday we visited Camp Long's Mountain Festival. Or Mountain somethingorother anyways, I can't confidently remember what exact kind of festival, but I feel mountains were involved. There were a lot of climbing related events, but the actual draw came down to The Falconer and The Beaver Detective. Animals for the eternal win!

Especially beautiful and deadly avian animals!

The Falconer was actually a business consisting of at least two falconers that I could see. Falconry is a very formalized and regulated practice in the US and licensing requires a lengthy apprenticeship with a master falconer as well as several different tests and adoption visits. I suppose after all that, the younger falconer maybe just stuck around and joined forces with the senior falconer. Maybe it's just easier. Or maybe the two falconers in question were related, as they did in fact have similar facial hair (obviously beard style is genetic). Who can say? 

But they did have amazing birds in boxes!



Ladybird is a Eurasian Eagle Owl. Eagle owls are the largest owls in the world. They can weigh up to 8 pounds, which is seriously chonky considering owls are all fluff and bones with holes in them. 


You will not win a staring contest with Ladybird, something I have learned more or less firsthand. I can't describe with any justice how stunning and poised she was. It was a pleasure to have her passed delicately a foot or so from my face several times. I can assure you, I respected the "do not touch" rule. 



 I can't for the life of me remember the formal name of this Spectacled Owl, but this bae would easily make a meal for Ladybird and comported themselves a bit more skittishly. They did love scritches though, which was cute. 

Lucky for this bro, they live in South America and are very unlikely to encounter a Eurasian Eagle Owl. 

The Beaver Detective did not bring beavers in boxes, although she had some trail cam footage. She is a self-proclaimed Beaver Lady (no entendres involved). I don't fully know her history, but she has a documentary out and works with the parks department tracking beavers and helping rehab and rehome orphan baby beavers. She seems to do a bit of consultation with any projects that impact rivers.

Next to this stand was a wildlife education stand that had several bird skins, a 3d printed raven head and some other sundries of delight. It was all in all, a good summer visit. 

But yes, did I mention "baby birds!!!"


Cowbird little is pretty squish!


This little brute managed to get into our cage feeder last night and they are about as voracious as their reputation suggests. They were in there for quite some time, while finches and others queued up patiently anticipating a turn that never came. I honestly wasn't sure they'd be able to get back out again and would be stuck in an exit point like Pooh at Rabbit's house. But when an Amazon delivery person shuffled up to our house, the avian Exodus included little Cow-babe. 

And then, of course, there are the ducklings... 



Cute little precocial things. Ducks like mallards often creche, meaning the raising of babies is communal with a rotating cast of female mallards tending a large group of baby ducks. 


This works best with ducklings and the like because they are born able to swim, feed, and follow. Like daycare kiddos who can make their own sandwiches but still need a little watcing out for.  


They mostly spend their time in the reeds and we didn't notice them for a while, but here they are! Already growing huge!

And of course, we are continuing to keep tabs on the heron babes from the Ballard Locks. 

This weekend seemed like a good time to return and check the whole area out. 

We saw a few cool birdies before even reaching the herons. 



This is a gull!



This is a caspian tern. They are amazing hunters, beautiful to watch. When they find a delicious fishie in the water, they kind of fly upward to get momentum and then drop down nearly perpendicular to the water. It's pretty stunning to watch. 

But enough about adult birdies... 


The herons are just fledging. They are practicing flying by flapping their wings repeatedly and some have gotten pretty decent at hop-flying from one branch to another. 



Once they are fully fledge, their parents will more or less be done with them, and they'll be expected to take off on their own for new territory. But they get a nice long growth period as these things go. 

At any rate, it's also Father's Day, which Andrew is celebrating much like Mother's Day: leaving for the day to go climbing. 

Allan and I are in fact celebrating, because who needs a specific father when you can celebrate all the awesome daddy birds out and about. 

Our particular bird family of the day are the Jacanidae. The majority of jacana species are polyandrous birds, with the larger female maintaining a territory and mating with several males. The female lays eggs in several nests, which are then cared for exclusively by the fathers. 



Also known as Jesus birds, because their broad feet and light bodies allow them to walk on lily pads, Jacana fathers are pretty awesome dads. They build and tend the nests, feed the babies and scoop them all up and carry them away from predators



Which can look a little funny with all the tiny legs sticking out. 

Anyways, happy Jacana day! Happy Summer!

Sunday, June 14, 2026

New Old and In-Between Wild

 Well it's heating up out here with our first "heat wave" and/or "heat advisory" of the summer. It's just about in the nineties and I'm happy enough to stay indoors after 9a.m. or so for the duration. 

Still, it's a great time to get out and see the babies and all the other birdies attending them. 


Maybe the early bird gets a worm or two, but the afternoon bird also seems to do just fine. Honestly, we have a lot of worms. When it rains, the sidewalks are pretty much an endless bird buffet of slugs, snails and wormies. 


And there are all manner of delicious things on the ground. Some of them better camouflaged than others. 




Cedar waxwings are new to the territory. They are distinct birds, sporting a smart little black mask, waxy orange wingtips, and a splash of yellow at the end of the tail. 



They don't seem to have an babies. But plenty of the Little Bit barn swallows seem to!


These little barn swallows are pretty much just giant fluffy mouths and a lot of crying!



Very muppet. 


Our very first cowbird fledgling was bawling for food from their white crowned foster parents. 


Cutest of all by far were the crow fledglings. They're more in their gawky toddler phase. Hopping around awkwardly, making their funny begging cries and baring their bright red little mouths. Blinking their dopy blue eyes. They are darling!

So, it's been a fun time in our little medium-urban housing environment. I am amazed how little of all this bustle I noticed in previous years. That's the amazing thing about "nature" - it's just always right there

And on that note, may I present to you... A book report! Sort of!

 So, a while back I went on a lil rant about the ugly side of conservationism: the occasionally vituperative hostility towards invasive species like house sparrows and starlings (getting pleasure out of hurting a fucking bird because you've decided its evil is fucked up, I hold strong on that). 


In doing some research about the plight of the bluebird and the guilt of the house sparrow, I was tipped off to a book called The New Wild: Why Invasive Species Will Be Nature's Salvation, by Fred Pearce. It took me a while to come up on the hold line, but I've finally just read it.

It's a lot of preaching to the choir, so it wasn't exactly edifying, but many of the questions I raised and spots I was coming around to were highlighted in bold bloody red in this book. An environmental journalist, Pearce looks with a scrutiny that reminds us why liberal arts remain important in a STEM world. And he brings plenty of science and expert input to back it up. I do want to investigate opposing points of views and read more but it definitely gave me a lot to think about and confirmed some places of unease for me. 

Consider this a tl;dr to the book. It's still long. But you know, it's not 190 pages long? 

Invasion biology, as described by Pearce, is the conservational biology framework that brings us "invasive bad, native good." Coming from this premise, it looks at ecosystems as finely balanced co-evolved systems of native plants and animals who each fill a crucial role. It sees invasions as devastating and catastrophic. 

To me, its lineage is the pre-Darwinian belief that God endowed each animal with the perfect traits to serve their purpose on earth. Nowadays, instead of Eden, we have deeply fragile and simultaneously perfectly balanced ecosystems honed by capital C and capital E CoEvolution




Especially in an anti-intellectual age it's very important to recognize that "science" done with certain pre-conceptions will often go along confirming those pre-held biases and even rigorous studies can misrepresent the greater truth about an issue when the scientists are narrowly selective about what they choose to study. Data is data, but it needs to be interpreted and humans are certainly able to import unconscious biases even when they are convinced of their objectivity. 

This is one of many reasons it's so important to replicate research. It's one of many reasons that the ones replicating the research should be different and come from different angles than the original researchers. 

We've seen myriad instances where social biases colored scientific orthodoxy. Much of what we thought we knew about medicine was derived by studying white men, for instance. Victorian misconceptions about the roles of men and women obscured the role of female sexual choice and the broad range of "female" behaviors. Invasion biology unavoidably incorporates xenophobia and Christian. mythology. Purity conservationism creates a sort of before-the-fall paradise and separates mankind from nature (We did eat that damned apple after all). Some conservationism seeks to reclaim a virgin wild that never truly existed and can never persist. 

Little side note

As time goes on the conception that any particular feature or quality defines humans as separate from animals seems to diminish. Myriad animals exhibit problem solving, reasoning, tool usage, self-recognition, emotional complexity, understandings of basic linguistic elements, complex social dynamics, social learning, artistic and musical sensibility, and the ability to learn from previous memories. 

The degree to which any other animal may exhibit a feature once thought uniquely human is debatable, and it's further questionable if humans ought to be the markers or any sort of grand end point anyways. But the distinction between non-human animal and human animal is not as clear cut as previously envisioned. 



Animals even seem to display some basic agriculture. Ants, snails, and termites cultivate particular fungi. Damsel fish similarly culivate algae in specific plots. Aphids basically herd honeydew producing bugs. Similarly, we've seen penguins practicing something akin to prostitution (and running a scam by promising favors they refuse to act on after receiving their pebbles). 

Humans may do a lot of quirky things compared to other animals, but we are less unique than we think. We are a part of the ecosystems we inhabit, even as we alter them substantially. 

It's crucial to acknowledge that many early conservationists were vocal eugenicists, white supremacists, and - yeah we're gonna go there - a lot of the ideas of invasion biology echo ecological eugenics in NAZI Germany. Many used dubious interpretations of Darwin's concepts to create both racial and ecological hierarchies. The Redwoods even became a mascot tree of the Eugenics movement. 



If you actually look at the violence of the language, you can start to see it -aliens explode, they overrun, they devastate, they assault, they flood and they invade. There is a declared "war on invasives"! It's also notable that the most visceral reactions to non-native plants and animals often occur shortly after a war, invasion, or terrorist attack. There is something innately psychological underlying invasion biology

These premises are also, often, built on shaky ground as Pearce goes to great lengths to illustrate. 


As I've speculated, the presence or even aggression of an invasive species at the site of a decline or degradation does not prove it is the cause. 

“In Australia,” says Mark Davis of Macalester College, “declines in the native species typically began decades before introductions of species . . . that have been reported to have contributed to the extinctions.” Sometimes, aliens can simply survive in places natives can't. Human activity can invite invasives and blame them for the whole shebang. 

When we simply focus on the plant or animal we miss the underlying problem that may have brought them there in the first place. When we approach from a battle mindset instead of seeking understanding, we often cause more trouble than we solve. 


After considerable study, Davis concluded invasion biology was based on a false proposition. With exceptions, the introduction of non-native flora and fauna actually tends to increase biodiversity in a given location. Species rich environments accommodate more introduced species than species-poor communities. Often introduced species lay the groundwork for a return of native species and become valuable to native animals. This develops to a point where extirpating invasives has a far greater negative impact on native species than keeping the invasive. 

Snail Kites 

Change triggers amazing feats of evolution. One well known instance occurred with snail kites in Florida. Populations were plummeting, in large part due to habitat decline and significant droughts. The native apple snail, their main food source, had become rare. But while the native apple snails declined precipitously, a non-native apple snail that was several times larger began to inhabit the area and breed quite successfully. The kites initially continued to decline, as the new snails were too large for them to eat.

 However, in under ten years, there was a dramatic resurgence. Birds often experience evolutionary changes on a shorter time scale because they reproduce often, allowing generational shifts and new mutations to occur more quickly. In this case, bill size and body mass are a heritable trait, and so most surviving snail kites have beaks large enough to eat the new snails. 


#NotAllAliens

One of the limitations of invasion biology is that it disproportionally focuses on the small percentage of invasives known to have significant impacts. A 2008 study of papers published in invasion biology journals found that only 49 species had been the subjects of 10 or more studies. Out of thousands, these have an overwhelming focus in the study of invasives. And yet, "it is an accepted rule of thumb that at least 90 percent of invaders quickly disappear, and of the remainder only around 10% cause any trouble." Similarly, most studies focus on small islands that have been most heavily impacted. The studies, in effect, do not capture the larger picture as they center on the most extreme cases. 


The representation is misleading. We do not all live on small islands with endemic populations. Most of the world is messier. Most non-native species have a marginal impact. Even though that do have clear and measurable impacts can have a much more mixed balance sheet when you really look at it. And sometimes, we just trust our guts so much we don't bother to look at it. 

Kudzu

Pearce spends the beginning of his book investigating some of the most famous invasions and suggests we haven't seen the whole picture even here. 

Kudzu, for instance was once enthusiastically brought into the United States. A beloved plant in Asia, it provided nitrogen for the soil, made cheap and easy livestock fodder, helped stabilized soil in drought. And then, as we know the story, it spread like wildfire. By the 1990s it was listed as a noxious weed. What changed, according to Pearce is American expectations of the land. As agriculture turns away from grazing, kudzu grows un-checked, which is suboptimal in a farmland environment. 

But, Pearce asks... "Is it bad for nature? The claim is often made, but when I searched for information about how much ecological harm it does, I found that nobody seemed to know." The anecdotal record is long, but somehow the actual scientific record is weak.

He quotes Irwin Forseth of the University of Maryland as saying there simply is not good research. "The idea that it is bad seems to have become so entrenched among Americans that nobody saw the need to test the claim." 

On the other side, Derek Alderman of the University of Tennessee, who believes kudzu could have untapped economic value as a textile, medicine and nutrition. Others believe it could serve as a potent sustainable resource, medicine, and source of biofuel. 

Subsequent to The New Wild's publication, conservationist Bill Finch raised further questions about the mythology of kudzu. Unlike the common belief that kudzu is a super-spreader, covering more than 7-9 million acres, the latest survey by U.S. Fish and Wildlife found it covered only 227,000 acres of the 200 million acres of Southern Forest. This is substantially less than Asian privet, and one third of the spread of roses in the same area. 

While it is expected to spread, it's projected to do so at a rate of 2,500 acres a year versus the oft quoted 150,000 acre spread. Another non-native actually seems to be limiting its spread - the Japanese kudzu bug infestation is associated with an estimated 1/3 decrease in kudzu biomass in under 2 years. 

"The myth of kudzu has indeed swallowed the South, but the actual vine’s grip is far more tenuous."

Contrary to reports that kudzu is turning the American South into a monoculture, the South harbors the most diversity in the Eastern US and possibly all of the United States. The threat of kudzu is far less severe than imagined and the source of the scaremongering was largely a mix of confirmation bias (kudzu thrives best in areas where people are likely to see it) and poor science. 

Like Pearce, Finch points out the risk in blaming invasives for deeper issues: "Our obsession with the vine hides the South. It veils more serious threats to the countryside..."



Tamarisk

Meanwhile, tamarisk (salt cedar) may have been blamed largely for showing up in the wrong place at the wrong time and being just a little too good at surviving. In the 1940s, it was maligned as a water guzzling plant, choking out the area and drying up rivers. Hydrological studies change the picture. After extensive eradication of Tamerisk along the Pecos River, studies have shown no evidence of any greater flow in the river. Its water consumption, on study, is only on par with native cottonwood or willow. More recent studies show that it does not, in fact, compete particularly aggressively against native plants. In fact, the presence of Tamarisk boosts soil fertility. 

 Meanwhile, the endangered southwestern willow flycatcher has begun to nest in tamarisk almost exclusively. At this point, eradicating tamerisk would present a substantial risk to a vulnerable species.

Zebra Mussel

And then there's the notorious zebra mussel. This is one of the most aggressive and famous invasives and there are definitely documented downsides of its presence. Notably, there are economic impacts on humans. They clog water pipes, mess up boats, and can impact property values. So, yeah, they are gonna be a hard sell on the positive side. It's also been assumed that they are devastating for the local environments. And it's true that they change everything up with significant winners and losers. But is this a question of framing? 



 The zebra mussel moved into the heavily polluted Great Lakes in the late 1980s. They were the only filter feeders able to swallow the gunk in Lake Erie and they did in fact remove significant pollutants from that lake. This is both a potential positive and negative, as doing so changed the entire food web. Invasion biology would immediately categorize that as bad. 

But perhaps it's simple equivocal? While mussels, clams and shrimp are declining due to competition with the zebra mussels, smallmouth bass, birds, and the endangered lake sturgeon, all of whom are rebounding due to the increased clarity of the water. Erie is now the world's premier smallmouth bass fishery. There has also been a return of migratory wildfowl who feed on the mussels. As always, winner and losers. 

"A new ecological environment is rapidly emerging in the lake, with its own checks and balances. We cannot quite tell how it will work out. The revival of the ancient sturgeon may limit and perhaps even reverse the proliferation of zebra mussels. Some ecologists say that if humans hadn't hunted the sturgeon almost to extinction, the zebra mussels would never have got such a grip... but surely this is all better than the "dead" lake."

What we do know is that you can look exclusively at the negatives of this particularly impactful alien species, but this might involve overlooking at least some countervailing benefits. The USGS's Great Lakes Science Center admits that "Zebra mussels," which have spread to all the great lakes and into Chicago and Mississippi, "have had positive impacts on parts of the Great Lakes ecosystems." Other studies have shown a twofold increase in diversity of invertebrates where zebra mussels have colonized a seabed



The idea that invasives cause more damage than natives is also understudied. Rob Marrs of the University of Liverpool looked at the prominence in the National Woodland Survey of three local plants —bramble, bracken, and ivy—and three invasives —rhododendron, sycamore, and Himalayan balsam. He found that the locals caused four times more damage to local woodland biodiversity than the aliens.

But let's looks at some heavily cited claims:

In a 2004 paper, David Pimental (a foundational conservation biologist/entomologist) said in passing that “in other regions of the world, as many as 80% of the endangered species are threatened and at risk due to the pressures of non-native species.” This has been quoted relentlessly by conservationist groups and other scientific papers. 

Pimental was in turn referencing another paper that concluded this. But upon a small amount of research, Pearce fond that this paper was referring specifically to plants in the Fynbos area of South Africa. A subsequent UNEP study quoting a report from South African scientists (among them van Wilgen, the author of the cited paper) says that just 750 of the 8,574 native plant species of the Fynbos “are currently facing extinction [as a result of] pressure from invading species.” This turns out to be less than 10 percent.

Possibly, invasives do cause more threat, but this figure is repeated everywhere and it is based on an inaccurate and misleading citation. Given how foundational it is, why has nobody questioned it or tried to replicate that number from real data? Pearce suggests "sometimes a story is just too good to check".



Likewise, it's often said that the annual cost of alien species to the global economy is more than $1.4 trillion. That number is quoted widely and indiscriminately. This again goes back to work by Pimental. In this case, he attempted to calculate the costs himself but his choices, on analysis, are "rickety at best". 

Pearce applauds the effort, but when he gets into the weeds he finds many of the choices to be problematic. 

"For instance, rats, mostly brown and black rats, are listed as responsible for just over half the environmental losses from alien species in his six countries, at $56 billion a year. Almost half of the rats’ bill, $25 billion, comes from India, where local estimates put the rat population at 2.5 billion." And yet, black rats are actually native to India. In other words, damage he attributes to "invasives" is actually being caused by natives to some extent.

 Beyond this, no invasive species is credited with any positive impact to balance the final tally. While native and non-native pests cause damage, non-native cats kill them and provide valuable pest control in doing so. Even just the smell of a cat will deter rodents from a property! There's no credit for this service even though it has real impact and the cost of other forms of pest control is considered in the invasive debits column

 Much of the agricultural (and other) pollination in our country is now down by non-native European honeybees. While you might have mixed feelings about that, our economy depends on this, not to mention the value of honey produced. 

Our entire farming system, a huge swathe of our economy, is based on non-native plants and animals.



Meanwhile, cats are given a "per-bird-death" dollar debit. Some birds, being non-native, are tallied both as a cat-death cost and a cost for staying alive and needing to be eradicated by some other pest control measure. Starlings naturally are blamed for eating crops without any recognition that - if they truly were chasing off native species - a native bird would likely have incurred that cost without the starlings' interventions.

And again, these are non-native crops being protected with pest control. As Pearce puts it, "it does seem odd to include among these negative impacts the billions of dollars spent on pesticides to protect one set of alien species from another!"

Another common quote is that invader species "have contributed to 40 percent of the animal extinctions that have occurred in the last 400 years." Pearce tracked this down to a paper written by David Wilcove, published when he was working for the Environmental Defense Fund. His actual paper was arguing that 49% of extinction threat to endangered species came from invaders. This claim only applied to the United States. 

However this argument is extrapolated almost exclusively from evidence collected in Hawaii, a particularly vulnerable island ecosystem that in no way should be reflective of the greater US: Hawaii makes up 0.3% of the area of the US, and was responsible for 2/5 of all endangered birds and plants in his data. Wilcove was very clear about how limited his data was, emphasizing there were "few quantitative threats to species." 

When Pearce asked him if it was appropriate for others to cite his work to claim the 40% figure for animal extinctions, Wilcove said he had no idea where that number for animal extinctions came from. 


Yet another widely cited paper turned out to be a four paragraph "paper" that claimed invasive species were a known factor in 54% of animal extinctions and the only known factor in 20%. Upon checking this, Pearce found the authors had based their information on IUCN's database on known extinctions and checking notes about the extinctions. They admitted that only 25% of the listed extinctions had any notes to check, meaning 3/4 of the extinct species were not included in this analysis at all. Nor was the database particularly comprehensive, listing only 680 extinctions. This means 170 extinctions had notes that they interpreted as caused by invasives. 

When Pearce tried to analyze for bias this by looking at the database, he was unable to get much information. The authors could not explain how they decided invasive species were a causal element. Nobody has replicated this analysis. 

This short 4 paragraph paper was a response pointed to another paper in the same journal. This article explicitly said "available data supporting invasion as a cause of extinctions are in many cases anecdotal, speculative, and based on limited observation." They pointed out that arriving in the same place at the same time that natives are declining does not prove cause and effect. 

Which is to say, invasion biology rises from uncritical foundations and there is so much we do not actually know. There are studies that do show tangible damage in specific cases, but they tend to focus on very specific species that make up a small percentage of invasives and are conducted with pre-conceived bias against these species. 



"There are no virgin forests out there, says Kathy Willis, director of science at Kew Gardens in London."


Not only is the estimate of the "damage" of invasive species somewhat shaky, the very concept of Eden we hark to is apocryphal. 

The more "unspoiled" wildernesses are explored, the more we find evidence of early man's presence. As it turns out, "nature" has been resilient from the start. When farmed areas stopped being fertile, they were abandoned. Left untended, forests rebuilt themselves with whatever components were available at the time. 

Forests regrow within a few centuries to the point where it's almost impossible to tell they were ever anything else. 


There is also a myth that ecosystems have delicately evolved to a point of divine interdependence. That a single niche out of place will despoil it eternally. This is based on misconceptions of evolution that imagine a single elevated end to the process. 

In reality, evolution is faster, messier and far more chaotic than it is divine or balanced. Any change in environment prompts a flurry of adaptation that can happen within generations. Darwin's finches evolve in one way to have thicker beaks and then another to have smaller beaks in response to droughts and floods within brief generations. Pesticides, herbicides, and antibiotics prompt extremely rapid evolution in their target species. Everything is changing all the time. 

Coevolution happens (see ravens and wolves, crows/pigeons/house sparrows and humans), but ecological niches are not set in stone. Where one animal fills a niche, other animals develop other niches as specific as necessarily to avoid direct competition. When one animal/plant is removed, others fill it. It's the wild west of nature almost all the time.


"Most change is random. The result is not optimum—certainly not some preordained perfection—but a workable mishmash of species, constantly reorganized by a throw of the dice." - Stephen Gould


Nor has there ever been a solid or consistent ecosystem. Not only are flora and fauna changing, but they are moving. Constantly. The concept of native is abstract at best. Everything came to a new location at some point. And rarely all together in a solid ecosystem. And with the changes of climate coming now, they will continue to move. 

"Looked at from this perspective, the spread of alien species today is merely a continuation of a natural process of the colonization begun when the ice retreated. A broad time horizon shows there is no such thing as a native species. All lodgings are temporary and all ecosystems in a constant flux, the victims of circumstance and geological accident."

Pearce concludes fairly convincingly that there are no true natives and no stable ecosystems. Instead of seeking perfection, conservation would benefit by looking at the places flora and fauna thrive. Often in the least expected places. 


I think it's important to emphasize that Pearce doesn't proclaim that non-native species are never a problem. His main point is that our actual understanding is very limited and that many times we cause more damage attempting to eliminate them than simply allowing them to be absorbed into the greater ecosystem.  

There is a need for weighting the costs and benefits. Especially when a plant (native or otherwise) impacts human economies or well-being, intervention may be appropriate. But the bias has to be addressed and understood. And it serves us to look beyond. 



If nothing is wilderness, then what does it mean to be a conservationist? What and how do we conserve?

Nature was never "over there" while we were "over here". If you look in your backyard, the floorboards of your home, or an abandoned building, wild is always with us. We spend millions trying to keep wildlife out of our homes and fight losing battles trying to control what's in our lawns. We may want to believe we have control, but wild never goes away entirely. 

"Nature" (that balance of intersecting lifeforms) rebounds when we simply let it do so. We've shaped our land to be more welcoming to "weeds" that love upended soils. So here they. We are attended by animals who have evolved to live with us in our cities and homes. Everywhere we let it, "the wild" comes with us and stays with us.


And remains where we once were. Chernobyl is populated by radioactive animals who continue to live their lives with winners and losers and adaptations to continue surviving there. 

 David Edwards of James Cook University in Australia found that 75 percent of bird and dung beetle species remained across a large logging concession covering 2.5 million acres in Sabah, Borneo, even after the entire concession had been logged over twice.

“Secondary forests of all ages should be protected. They are a hugely valuable safety net for biodiversity,” says Robin Chazdon of the University of Connecticut.

In other words, we should look deeper. We should look in unconventional places (other researchers have found that golf courses are actually amazing hotspots of biodiversity). And we need to find ways to be more thoughtful about promoting biodiversity and protecting human interests. 

Pearce allows that humans will care about some species. We have our "favorite mascots" like the panda and the condor. And that's ok. We are allowed to change the environment to preserve what we love. But striving for perfect virginity and crystalizing a moment in time will hinder growth and ignore the true wild around us. 

"In a world of climate change, where the old wild is hemmed in by human activity, these ecosystem islands will increasingly resemble museum pieces, time capsules, and experimental labs for scientists. They will not be wild in any true sense. On the other hand, the novel ecosystems, the make-do-and-mend places, will be the ones able to stand on their own two feet. They will be the new wild"

He doesn't quite say so, but I don't think he cries in his soup much about the animals that didn't make it. His story ends with speculation about the massive speciation and migrations that global warming will trigger. And while he may express some concern for those animals ill-suited to their environment, he strongly points to the many new ones that will emerge if we allow them to.

( He does however raise a quick concern for the decline of the same animals I championed previously - if the house sparrow, pigeon and starling are struggling, we should likely by concerned for ourselves.)


 My complementary thought on this is that humans are a part of nature, but part of our human nature is having a mind with a moral sense. Most likely an adaptation that allows humans to live more successfully in groups, a moral sense frequently includes an element of avoiding causing unnecessary. I think what we call necessary will vary by how we rationalize, but I also think it alone can be a fairly natural reason to not kill cruelly or excessively (I won't say for pleasure, because hunters are actually quite active and successful conservationists). I think perhaps it's simply natural to express horror at the eradication of the passenger pigeon and the great auk because it didn't need to happen and it reflects on the unsustainable urges of humanity to consume beyond replacement. 

Beyond but related to this, yes, nature will persist. Indubitably. If humans overextend their reach, they will hit a max die off and nature will carry on just as it did in Chernobyl. Conservation problem solved. As a human, though, that's a suboptimal outcome. Not only is that morally unappealing, but it's just straight up unappealing to us in the masses who'd likely be part of the die off. And so human interest certainly and unsurprisingly centers itself in the human practice of conservation. 


And on that note, I quite love that we end with a message of qualified hope. The world is always changing and nothing can stop that, but we have some discretion in how we respond to that. I'm down with just enjoying the danged starlings as long as they aren't shrieking outside my window at midnight (I have my limits with all creatures!)

And on that note, I wish you all a very toasty little world cup weekend!

Sunday, June 7, 2026

Nineties Summer!

  Well hello there! 

It's been a bit of a wild time, between the heavy rain and our dishwasher seeming to implode yet again. Last time it took a few months to figure out the heating element wasn't working right. This go around, it just decided not to drain. So far, after some perplexing and exciting times with the dishwasher guts all over the kitchen, it seems to have been fixed. Phew! But just in case, I have fresh new sets of dishwashing gloves and am ready to return to the hand if need be. 


Fledglings are out and about now, which is super cool. Unlike humans, altricially inclined birds don't really get seen until they're pretty well grown. Mama robins don't actually Boba their babies, as cute as that would be. So, by the time they arrive on "the scene" (my yard) they are as large as their parents, albeit with less distinct plumage and a generally rawer look about them.

Usually they follow their parent around with their mouths agape and occasionally accept food from them. Sometimes they go exploring on their own. Usually, they just stay put. Last week, we had a baby finch waiting unsteadily on our front-yard fence for a few hours, while their parent flitted about with the agility one expects of an LBB. 


This bird just sat on that fence, shaking a little bit for a looong time. 

After a while, the parent vanished and we started to worry that the fledgling finch was just waiting to die in our yard. They eventually flew off, though, so trauma avoided!

Our own fledgling is, by contrast, far more agile than at least one of her parents. 



For "funsies" the family went hiking at Franklin Falls last week last weekend. Yes, how "Seattle" of us!

 I don't and perhaps never will fully understand the appeal of hiking, but I am fine with walking and hiking is pretty much just walking with gear and more Patagucci vibes, so sure. Why not. 

I personally get more juice from wandering parks and nearby neighborhoods, and I tend to prefer being places where the ambulance can arrive within 5 minutes if need be, but you know... same concept. 


Hiking is definitely not 100% compatible with birding. I heard a ton of novel birds in the forest, but it's really hard to actually find them with that level of cover. And unless I am really familiar with a bird's call, I don't record a "sighting" by ear. Which is to say, I'm not going to trust Merlin that much on identifying them, because Merlin absolutely does hallucinate. So I'm pretty sure we encountered some cool birds, but don't quote me on that. 

 While I did see a couple of LBBs hopping around, none held still enough to identify at my slower speed. Definitely there were pacific wrens, since I have heard and seen those before. Mostly, we just trudged through too quickly to identify or see anything much beyond some slugs and a bunch of trees. But we really weren't there for the birds. It's not called Franklin Birds, after all.  



Allan had a blast, though, which is really all that matters. I survived, which is relevant to whether Allan had a good time so we'll call that little tidbit "mattering-adjacent"!

And we did indeed see THE FALLS of Franklin Falls. Mission Accomplished. Waterfalls are far less elusive than tiny birds. 


Pretty enough. 


Higher volume than Whatcom Falls (A park where I grew up and spent a lot of time as a kid), but generally similar vibe of "water and rocks" 

I found the entire thing a bit exhausting, particularly with a longer drive on either end, but I can see the appeal, nonetheless. I'm sure we'll be back. 



Not before we take several more strolls of the neighborhood though. And although Andrew is plotting roughly a million more "little adventures" he's also plotting to be out of the state for a decent chunk of the month, and we have plenty of plans to accomplish before a repeat excursion. 



In grander schemes, we are wrapping up another year of homeschool. Kind of. While Allan objects to "year round school" in theory, she's moderately open to continuing some of the routines and review through the summer in exchange for a mellower school year. And because the school year itself is so very mellow, the contrast is a bit muted other than not having to make it to a school-related building 3 mornings and one afternoon a week.  


The new hotness on my social media circles is something like "90's Summer!!"

My first glance at the discourse was derisive. Millennials are starting to exhibit some serious Boomer "those were the days" kind of behaviors so I keep an eye on them. There is a lot of nostalgia in the way some people were pitching it: "no planning. No screens. Just throw the kids outside and let them wander." 

Bruh, the mall doesn't even allow teenagers anymore and most areas are so autocentric in their design, they don't bother with sidewalks these days, so what are we envisioning here? Just like sitting in a parking lot until a neighbor calls child services and has parents arrested for neglect? 


Also: No screens? None? No? Are we... just... no?

Where were these people in the 1990's? Because I assure you, I was hardcore about the screens for most of that formative decade. My mom got one of the very first laptops with just Word Star and Word Plus on it and I spent hours on that thing. I learned how to make DOS prompts say funny things. And by the mid-to-late nineties, I had my own laptop, with my very own html driven GeoCities page - yes, the text on my html webpage would scroll OR flash and sometimes I used frames!!! I know!!

 I'll admit that in the first year of 1990's, I didn't have television (hard times, hard times). We did have a bunch of movies. And I absolutely engaged. But come 1992 or so, it came rushing gleefully into my life and what a heaven it was! 


Which is to say, as a nineties kid, I had a computer nearby and watched a lot of tv wherever possible. I did my homework on the couch with the tv on. My friends would call and I would tie up the landline for hours while we sat on our asses and watched tv together. I had breakfast in front of the tv. I lived in TV Land. I watched all the sitcom reruns, hours of Passions (best soap opera), all the Nicktoons, and so many random other things. 

 Eventually, I even started sleeping in the living room with the television on and it was the best sleep of my mid-to-late teens! A lot more calming than my alternative strategy of listening to Art Bell at night.

 (If you're not familiar with Art Bell, he did a paranormal themed overnight radio show, talking about all manner of spooky ooky X-Fileish things. And while it was engaging, it was also a bit maybe too engaging. I would stay up well past 2 a.m. listening to government conspiracy theories and the escapades of the Chupacabra.) 

Reruns and late-night tele-ads for the shake weight were a lot easier to sleep through than paranormal radio. Both were better than just trying to lay still in the dark with no background noise and the relentless onslaught of MY THOUGHTS. (This was well before sleep podcasts and white/pink/purple/rainbow noise apps, and a bit before I put up a ton of moonlights and fairy lights in my bedroom). Even into law school, I would sometimes grab a DVD to run of American's Next Top Model or Top Chef to play while I zonked on the couch. TV got me through some stuff. 


So, yeah, characterizing the nineties as a screenless free-range paradise is a questionable construct. We consign that nonsense to the hose-drinking Gen Xers, I think.

And the parents who were like "yeah but it's the kind of screen that matters" are a bit sketchy. I actually am moderately sympathetic to some level of graduated technophobia. I don't think Gemini and Chat GPT - as being implemented - need to be in Elementary schools. I'm a fan of one-on-one person to person tutoring. I generally support more tangible and physical educational tools where possible. This is kind of a funny position to take, since I pretty much let my little cyborg wander around attached to several symbiotic electronics at nearly all times. She does, in my defense, hand write in two journals and hand draw/color/paint almost constantly. So... that. Hold that thought. I'll return to it in a bit. Maybe (narrator: she did, in fact, not return to that thought). 


Overbearing Karens calling the cops aside, the whole "kicking kids outside" to presumably wander the earth or whatever Gen X flavored nostalgia we're getting off on these days doesn't seem that awesome either. Yes, I lived on the lake and our back lawns were all connected. I did run pretty free back then when I wasn't involved in one of my surprisingly many activities.

 But also, it gets hot in summer in some places. And the air quality turns toxic more often than it ought to. And, well, some kids did a lot of stupid shit while unsupervised. So, yeah, unsupervised time is cool, but also Gen X was raised with parenting that very well verged into straight up neglect. Kids did die unnecessarily in the face of the more extreme freedoms they received. Meanwhile a lot of us just did a lot of stupid shit we're lucky to have survived. 

If Allan wanted to roam the neighborhood with her friends, I'd support it, but I'm sure as shit not gonna push her out the door on a hot high pollen day with 190 AQI and tell her not to come back before sundown. 


That said, I'm a lot more sympathetic to "Nineties Summer" as a trend when what it really means is "parents stop trying so fucking hard to fill up summer with neat expensive camps that costs oncology prices and require preplanning from January to get on the waitlist!" 

Despite my own happy experiences with day and overnight camp in my childhood, I'm somewhat soured on "summer camps" in the modern day and age. I like the novelty, but these days you have to sign up for summer camps before February mostly. I don't know what Allan will be into or up to six months after most registrations fill up. I don't know what our summer plans will want to look like. And I don't know just how expensive gas might be for the camps that require driving two-plus hours a day in heavy traffic!'


Not to mention, our summers fill up regardless. There are always family visits, trips (Andrew's taking two to California in June alone), excursions, birthday parties, group playdates, etc etc. Summer bloats up so damned fast, it's staggering. 

A few years ago, we made the tactical error of signing Allan up for about 4 or 5 week-day camps in a row. It started out ok and was a nightmare by the end. It's not just five more weeks of school. Every week is starting over. Every week is new kids and new teachers who need to learn the kids yet again. It's epically disruptive. Girl was so burnt out by the time school started up again I don't think we ever recovered.

 Even when it's one or two weeks of the summer, it throws things off. With the exception of one "summer camp" that actually was just a weekly game class and a weekly D&D group that coincidentally started up in summer, camps just catapult everything into some level of chaos for weeks surrounding the event. 




I admit, I took Allan's riding camp last year harder than her. But she was terribly disappointed that doing the camp meant missing her regular Outschool groups. And she was beat for a few weeks afterwards. (Plus, she now does adaptive riding every week, so it lacks the same novelty somehow)

This summer, we've agreed to a summer schedule that incorporates a lot less schoolwork and a lot more "lazing around the house guilt-free". There's also some "ok, but there are limits to how many Youtube vidoes where a dude plays geography games and talks about flags in a Welsh accent. Whatever else, it won't be the pure chaos of camps. There will be playdates. There will be Outschool groups. We will continue listening to our books in the morning. We'll take our regular crow walk when the air is breathable. There will be some holidays and fireworks and birthday shenanigans. We'll still go to the barn. And that, largely, will be that. 

But I assure you, there will be screen. And nobody is living on the streets without a viable telephone. I'm nineties and all, but not that nineties!