Invasive Schminvasive

A couple of years ago I noticed a new plant growing on our island property, up near an old woodpile. It was sprouting so vigorously into a small heap of green, corrugated leaves that it immediately caught my attention, and I began watching its growth with interest, wondering what it would become.

It became a multi-stemmed plant about chest high, with a cluster of little yellow flowers atop, similar to yarrow. I’ve since tried to properly identify the plant, but thus far with no success.

My point being that I had never seen this plant before that day, in some 20 years of messing about on our wooded acreage. And it has since sprung up all around.

As it appears now. U.S. Dept. of Agriculture photo
As it appears now.
U.S. Dept. of Agriculture photo

And it’s not alone in this sort of botanical victory. When we first bought the property there were no daisies growing anywhere. I’d see them growing by the side of the road in other areas on the island and think, a little wistfully, that they might look quite nice in the meadow above our home.

Those daisies now grow in all the open spaces near us. When I mow I leave some of them standing in white, fountain-like sprays.

Ranging further afield, as a young man I don’t recall seeing great blue herons mincing about the beaches of Vancouver, as they do now, while nesting noisily in considerable numbers in Stanley Park. As a child I don’t recall seeing red foxes within the bounds of Grande Prairie, or wild rabbits within Edmonton’s limits, as I do now when I visit those cities.

My greater point being that, in just my adult life, I’ve seen that Nature is a fluid system. Certain species come and go. (Blue birds seem to have disappeared from Alberta.) Especially it seems, certain species have learned to adapt to the urban landscape.

So when folks get worked about so-called ‘invasive species,’ I tend to get a little skeptical. A few years back purple loosestrife was the invasive danger of the day, said to be poised to assault and entirely conquer all the wetlands of Canada. Japanese knotweed seems like it may be the current favourite among those who get agitated about Nature’s changing patterns. On Galiano, some residents have actually proposed campaigns to eradicate Scotch broom, an introduced species that has infested the Garry oak meadows so characteristic of the southern Gulf Islands. But as anyone who has ever witnessed the power of that particular plant to spread and prosper could tell you, such a campaign is hubris of an extraordinary dimension.

But such hubris is precisely what characterizes us as a species. We have hugely altered the planet’s surface; astonishingly, the Geological Society of America estimates that we have now modified more than 50% of the Earth’s land surface. And as we all know, the two words most often mentioned when ascribing causes to the elimination of animal species on our planet are ‘habitat loss.’ And guess who is responsible.

We alter the landscape because we can. We seem to possess an irresistible urge to change, adjust and otherwise ‘improve’ the environment that exists immediately around us. Certainly I am among the guilty. Our bit of rural paradise has been revised by me in any number of ways in the time we have ruled over it; trees have been felled, gardens planted, even a creek dammed. Sometimes this had been done for practical purposes, storing water or providing heat, but, as often as not, it has been done for what can only realistically be described as ‘aesthetic’ reasons. We humans feel safer in open, controlled spaces, even when no real dangers exist.

Red foxes have moved into cities because of the food supply they find there. Rabbits find that the cities support fewer of the predators they fear, although coyotes may have more to say about that in future. The daisies first appeared on our property after a trench was dug for the water line which runs from the well to our home. And this is how it is with the great majority of the species which so concern us. They almost always arrive with the disturbances that we humans bring.

No, the truth is that, when it comes to invasive species, we have some nerve to even mention the supposed problem. The only true invasive species is us.