Spring is happening! All the color leafing out on the trees and the weedy flowers covering those patches between the sidewalk and road have my heart singing. I arrived in DC in December and I’d never spent any time on the east coast in winter. I knew the woods were dominated by deciduous trees and that they would be naked, but I did not realize just how different it would look compared to all the other places I’ve lived. Gray trunks and branches, brown leaves littering the ground and not much middle or understory to speak of – monochromatic, vertical lines intersecting the horizontal horizon. Beautiful, but a bit dreary and very Blair Witch Project.
Being in an urban environment during this time of year has me thinking about invasiveness, perspective and the definition of nature. Photographing all the cute little weedy flowers blooming along my city walks, I assume most have made it here from elsewhere thanks to human ingenuity and often with detrimental effects. I knew about a few of the most notorious species before I arrived, but not being from here I don’t have a very good idea of who is native and who is moving in and displacing others (plants in the woods and people in the neighborhoods).
One bad boy I’ve been hearing about lately is the Bradford Pear; a white blossomed, early flowering tree that’s rapidly spreading throughout eastern forests. I think it’s a pretty tree, but I haven’t witnessed all its badness. My mentor has lived much of her life on the east coast. She finds the tree hideous – not just because of its invasive qualities, she also finds its architecture and the tree as a whole ugly. In the Pacific Northwest, English holly is an invasive pest. I consider them a bit of an eyesore and couldn’t understand why anyone would want holly growing in their yard. My mentor has two growing in her yard and has mentioned she finds them beautiful, especially in winter. But they (American holly, Ilex opaca) are native here where she lives. It makes me wonder how knowledge of nativeness influences people’s opinion of plants. My knee jerk response of dislike every time I see a holly is fading. Would my mentor think the Bradford pear was beautiful if she saw it growing in its native habitat?
As land managers, we are trained to consider some plants good and others bad. We fight a seemingly endless battle trying to eradicate those bad, introduced species. But it’s not the plant that is bad or wrong or hideous. We are the responsible party.
I have also been wondering how my perspective would change if my only exposure to nature was within an urban environment. I grew up in the Pacific Northwest with access to the Cascade Mountains and the wide open spaces of Eastern Washington from a young age. When I think of nature I generally think of areas beyond the city streets. Places far from shopping malls and subway lines. But nature is defined by the Oxford dictionary as “the phenomena of the physical world collectively, including plants, animals, the landscape, and other features and products of the earth, as opposed to humans or human creations”. By this definition the built environment of the city is not nature, but what about the oxalis sprouting in the crack of a concrete wall, the weedy plants flowering in an un-mowed lawn, all the squirrels and song birds I see daily on my walk to the Metro? Does our definition of nature discriminate against city parks because they are designed and maintained by humans? What about urban “natural areas”? They too have been weeded and planted by humans. Millions of acres of “natural” landscapes across the US have been seeded or treated for invasive species (on BLM Public Lands and elsewhere). By limiting our definition of the natural environment, we are limiting people’s access to nature. How can we expect those within urban environments to care about protecting or restoring a nature they cannot access?
While in Pittsburgh for the North American Wildlife and Natural Resources Conference, I attended a session on protecting and restoring wildlife habitat in urban and suburban areas. Sarah Aucoin from New York City Department of Parks argued that land managers and biologists should expand their view of nature. There are deer in Central Park, eagles in Inwood Hill Park, and endangered piping plovers in Rockaway Park.
Our natural world is changing. Instead of considering nature something I travel to, I intend to help cultivate a healthier version within the cities I live. I am excited to see what else pops up in Washington, DC over the coming weeks!