In celebration of the purchase of his first home, my friend's family surprised him with a heartfelt gift- a cutting from a tree that had grown in his late grandfather’s yard. The tree sapling had been kept a secret for years and he was thrilled by the gift; it served as a reminder of his childhood and of the memories he shared with his grandpa. He was beaming the day he brought it home to Pittsburgh.
I, unfortunately, couldn’t share in his enthusiasm. The plant sitting in his backyard was a mimosa tree (Albizia julibrissin), which I as a plant biologist quickly recognized as an invasive species. Mimosa trees were introduced to the gardens of North America in the 18th century. The species has since escaped cultivation and can be found growing today in forests and disturbed lands across the country; displacing native plants as they go. This tree was about as appealing to me as a rabid raccoon. From my perspective, the only logical solution was to throw the plant in the trash, where it could never cause harm. This plan of attack was not supported by my friend. In fact, he was adamant that the tree be planted in our yard, despite the possibility of invasion into nearby forests. He contended that its value as a living family heirloom superseded its biological risk. I was left in a tough position; how could I argue against this paradigm? How could anyone definitively measure the cultural value of an object against its environmental cost, when both are abstract and subjective? Once this conundrum came to the forefront of my thoughts, I began to notice its presence everywhere. My next-door neighbor has a massive tree of heaven (Alianthus altissima) growing in his backyard. This attractive, invasive plant was once popular in American gardens, but is now banned from sale in Pennsylvania. Each summer our neighborhood gets covered in thousands of tree seedlings; the descendants of a single backyard tree have into invaded every forested space around us. I’ve considered asking my neighbor to cut the tree down, but I know that the request would likely be misinterpreted as an insult to their landscaping, more than anything. Several of my neighbors also keep outdoor cats (Felis catus) as pets. They make great companions, but cats too are classified as invasive. This species is estimated to kill at least 1 billion birds and 6 billion mammals in the United States each year. I often see them hunting for birds along the tree line. Even within my own community of nature-lovers, we have developed a potentially problematic connection to a nonnative species- the European honeybee (Apis mellifera). Personal beehives have cropped-up in homes all over Pittsburgh. People’s well-intentioned goals are to promote bee populations, provide pollinators for native plants, and preserve a rich cultural legacy of beekeeping. Unfortunately, there’s a growing amount of evidence to suggest that the European honeybee might cause more harm than good, by spreading disease and outcompeting native bee species. I don’t know if there are any simple ways to resolve the incompatibility between some of our cultural and environmental values. I’m also certain that I, a biologist who tends to prioritize ecological health over everything, do not have the right to impose my own ideas on neighbors, friends, and family if it simultaneously belittles their own ideologies. What right do I have to claim that a cat is malicious for hunting birds, when it also provides companionship and emotional support to the owner? Why tell a beekeeper to get rid of her hives, when it is providing a source of fulfillment and a connection to the natural world? Is compromise a possibility? I think so. For example, cats that are fixed and kept indoors pose little threat to bird and mammal populations. This is a solution that could protect ecosystem health, while still allowing people to provide a safe home for their pet. There’s also been a recent rise in the popularity of “bee houses” for native solitary bees, with evidence to suggest that these native bees provide even better pollination services to plants than European honeybees. Solutions are relatively easy to come by, but I think that the real challenge will be in getting everyone to the table and willing to be convinced of a new idea. My goal is to learn how to develop discussions that incorporate the priorities of both parties, so that everyone can be a stakeholder in some way. I can’t have this discussion by knocking on the neighbor’s door and complaining about their invasive trees and cats. But I can start friendly conversations about our shared passion for gardening and animals…. and my ideas might be heard once I’ve demonstrated that I can listen to theirs. Open a line of communication first and the rest should follow. In an effort to learn new strategies (and to become more introspective), I’ve begun reading articles related to the psychology of reasoning and mind-changing. For those interested, I’d highly recommend this review article by Elizabeth Kolbert and this one by Anna Swanson. They recommend, among other things, relying on emotional appeals to complement factual arguments and engaging in the use of calming and hedging language. This method doesn’t come particularly easily to me. I’m a strong-willed scientist who has very clear ideas about the world and how it should operate. I feel a deep responsibility to protect ecosystems; especially those that surround my home. It’s also objectively easier to wave my arms around and declare “listen to me, I know the answer!” in response to a conflict than it is to design a thoughtful, sensitive approach. But in an effort to be as effective as I am outspoken, I am trying to develop this new skillset. In the end, a third party ended my debate over the mimosa tree. Turns out that deer find value in it as well… as a tasty snack. Comments are closed.
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AuthorHello! My name is Rachel and I am a Postdoctoral Fellow at the Carnegie Museum of Natural History. All opinions expressed in this blog are my own. Archives
April 2024
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