ENHS Nature Trails Sep 98 Article 2

President's Forum: "Biodiversity in the Big Apple? Gimme a break!"
by Nathan Tublitz
ENHS President

In 1972 some relatives from the East Coast visited us here in Oregon. Trying our best to show them a good time, my wife and I took them to one of the most beautiful places in Oregon, Cascade Head, a spectacular headland jutting out into the Pacific near Tillamook. After about 30 minutes of walking through a breath-taking old growth coniferous forest with huge cedars, redwoods, and firs, one relative remarked "how boring this place is - all the trees look the same. Seen one, seen them all". Bemused, I silently wrote this off as the observation of an unabashed urbanite with an obvious lack of appreciation for the natural world. I again encountered this attitude 12 years ago when meeting the wife of a colleague who hated living here in Eugene so much that she departed every summer to live "the good life" on the East Coast. To her, Oregon was a wasteland, devoid of any redeeming cultural or biological value (except for the challah bread at Humble Bagel here in Eugene). I thought this view had gone extinct when it surfaced yet again this summer in a national magazine article by an Manhattanite extolling the biological virtues of apartment life in the Big Apple. In it the author detailed the joys of tending her balcony garden, the long hours observing the behavioral complexities of pigeon society, and the adversities faced daily by that most indestructible of urban dwellers, the American cockroach. The article ended with the suggestion that the asphalt jungles of the big cities have as much to offer the lay person interested in nature as their tropical namesakes since cities are "obviously biologically diverse".

My initial response to this article was the same as that for those Floridians who believe that the Everglades should be drained and turfed over for golf courses: although outraged I took great comfort in the fact that such viewpoints were 3000 miles away. However, my initial feelings quickly turned to sadness upon the realization that this lack of appreciation for the natural world is on the increase as our population flock en masse to the cities. The US Census Bureau recently released demographic figures showing that 53% of Americans currently live in urban or suburban areas, and projected that the percentage of our brethren in urban areas will grow to 75% in the next 25 years. Since only 32% lived in cities before World War II, that means that in 3 generations over half of our population has left the countryside. This phenomenon of mass urbanization is not unique to the US; it is being repeated in all countries, rich and poor, 1st world and 3rd, new world and old. Among the other consequences of this migration is the inevitable loss of one's connection with and appreciation of the natural world.

Although a professional biologist, the type of biology I practice is performed in a laboratory, an artificial environment far removed from the natural world. Fortunately I am blessed, as are all of us in the Pacific Northwest, with living in a region of the country containing the most diverse and largest number of habitats, ranging from mountain tundra to the intertidal, from rain forest to desert. Each of us who live here in the Pacific Northwest have our special places, areas of such unique natural beauty that draw us back repeatedly. Here are two of mine which we visited this summer.

1. The marine environment of Puget Sound.
This summer I was fortunate enough to spend two weeks working on cephalopods at Friday Harbors Labs, the marine lab of the University of Washington located on San Juan Island. Each night I would try to catch squid off their dock by "night lighting", using a single underwater light as an attractant. Although the squid hunting was relatively poor this summer, the night lighting attracted an unbelievably rich and steady stream of incredible creatures. This is not completely surprising since the marine life along the Pacific Northwest coast is among the most diverse and spectacular in the world. Each night as I hung off the edge of the dock, I had a front row seat to view a continual parade of fascinating organisms, a large screen view of one of the best nature scenes anywhere in the world. Among the creatures that passed by, literally within inches, were bioluminescent jellyfish and their close relatives, the ball-shaped ctenophores, large dungeness crabs, several species of shrimp, prehistoric looking 3 foot long annelid worms, a wide assortment of curious fish, and the occasional squid. Interspersed among these larger animals were hundreds of thousands of marine larvae as well as many smaller species of invertebrates. Added to this melange of life were millions of bioluminescent bacteria that, when the night light was turned off, produced a dazzling light show with each incoming wave. This nighttime dance of life, which repeats in endless variations every evening after sunset, was absolutely entrancing.

2. The Metolius River basin.
This is the place where Eastern Oregon bumps head on into its Western counterpart. Lining the banks of the glass clear, ice box cold waters of the Metolius are the beautiful forests dominated by huge stands of the majestic red bark Ponderosa pines. As in many Eastern Oregon forests, each Ponderosa is surrounded by their smaller cousins, the perfectly straight lodgepole pines. However, unlike most Ponderosa stands where there is little underbrush aside from a few small and widely spaced bushes, the floors of Metolius forests are carpeted with a sea of bright green ferns, even in late August. This unlikely marriage of East and West provides habitat for a wide range of birds, insects, and plant species blended together from both sides of the Cascades. Incredibly we noticed over 20 species of flowers still blooming in early September despite the lack of rainfall this summer. And of course there is the Metolius itself, home to a beautiful and ever changing array of indigenous aquatic plants and aquatic animals.

These are only two of the many spectacular areas in Oregon including but not limited to the Wallowas, Steens Mountain, the Strawberries Mountains, our coastal forests, the Columbia Gorge -- the list is nearly endless. Each is an ecosystem of thousands of faunal and floral species coexisting as a single unit. This is not just a few species struggling daily to exist in a foreign world of plastic, asphalt, and exhaust. The species of the Puget Sound and the Metolius basin have evolved together for millions of years, resulting in two wondrously intricate webs of life to be marveled at. However, most of us appear to think biodiversity is to found in our collection of house plants or our beloved pets. Can we reverse this insidious trend? We can and we must. But this will only occur by education, starting with our children. So help out in schools, lead a field trip, be a volunteer in a nature society, become an activist in an environmental organization. Do something. And do it now.

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