Habitat encroachment

I'd like to expand on Monday's meditation a bit more, if you'll indulge me. It, a recent conversation I had with my sister, and couple of articles I read in, of all places, The Costco Connection, have inspired me to continue thinking about the intersection of humans with nature.

One of the ways that humans increasingly intersect with nature is through habitat encroachment. It's a common theme: humans move into an area, change it to suit themselves, and push other species out.

I've been unable to find the origin of this photo, or which rainforest it is (my guess is the Amazon). But it's a pretty stark example.

The story of the Ivory-billed Woodpeckers from Saturday's post is a classic example. Their last known-for-sure habitat was in the so-called Singer Tract of old-growth forest in Louisiana. Even before it was being logged by the Chicago Mill and Lumber Company, conservationists were trying to preserve it. However, the business interests of the time fought these efforts, going to the extent of actually logging it faster than normal, until the final bit was cleared--and the last known-for-sure Ivorybill had disappeared.

As in the photo above, we often think of habitat encroachment as horrifying raw gashes in virgin rainforest, and it's a major issue there, for sure. Rainforest destruction is actually increasing--even though we know the rainforests are our best defense against climate change and a host of other ills.

Different continent, same habitat-devastation problem. This photo was taken in Africa. 

But habitat encroachment is a problem literally everywhere that humans exist. No matter where you live, a few centuries ago it either was virgin land with no humans on it, or supporting a much smaller human population than it is today. We (and our invasive companion animal species) have done untold damage to our own local environments.

Do you ever have raccoons in your garbage (or, more dangerous, bears)? Are you troubled by the fear of foxes or coyotes snatching your pet from your back yard? Before you get all indignant about pesky varmints, it's well to remember that they were here first. Historically, the human answer to such issues was to kill, or at least remove, the wildlife.

Bears eating unsecured trash may seem like a nuisance, but the situation is dangerous for both the humans and the bears.

But eventually there's no place left to go. Sooner or later, we either co-exist and take intelligent precautions--or the animals will go the way of too many lost species before them. Whether it's elephants on the roads of Sri Lanka or coyotes in suburban US back yards, it's getting to the point where the humans just can't have it all their own way. Humans now live alongside mountain lions in Los Angeles; across the Pacific, humans live alongside tigers in places like the Sundarbans of India.

In the recent Nature miniseries Animals with Cameras, one of the episodes featured sheepdogs ranging the hills of southern France among a flock of sheep--and very effectively deterring the predations of a pack of gray wolves that had recently returned to an area where they previously had been eliminated. Here and there, people are learning it's possible--even valuable--to learn to coexist.

Some traditions are really effective: sheepdog with a flock of sheep in southern France. The dog is one of several related local types used to protect the sheep from wolves; this kind of sheep-protection is the origin of the Great Pyrenees breed. (Photo by John Linnell).

Interactions between wildlife and humans will only become more frequent in the future, as climate change further disrupts habitat and changes patterns, to add to the increasing interactions due to urban sprawl and human population growth. A new way of looking at the situation is beginning to emerge--but all too many humans still react with fear, misunderstanding, and deadly force when confronted with unexpected wildlife "invading" spaces that until recently belonged to them.

But these are baby-steps, in the grand scheme of things. It will take a lot more public education before we routinely see developers and civic planners thinking in terms of preserving and planning for wildlife corridors, highways consciously built to minimize roadkill, and many other strategies designed to help wildlife species continue to exist, despite the omnipresence of humans.

IMAGES: Many thanks to Munchee Daily's article on World Wildlife Day 2016, for the "Wiping out Rainforests" photo; to the African Wildlife Foundation, for the photo of the devastated African rainforest; to Bear-Smart Durango (Colorado) for the photo of the bear cub and the trash; and to John D. C. Linnell and Science Daily for the photo of the french sheepdog with its flock.

The elusive Ivorybill

The Artdog Image of Interest
Image 1 of a planned series of 4 by John James Audubon

John James Audubon, Ivory-billed Woodpecker, Campephilus principalis (1827-1838), hand-colored engraving. Male on the left, female on the right.

I'll never forget the day my mother thought we'd seen an Ivory-billed Woodpecker at our backyard bird feeder. I was a little kid: I'd never heard of one, before. And it was the biggest bird we'd ever seen at the feeder.

Pileated woodpeckers (top) compared
with Ivory-billed woodpeckers.

It wasn't an Ivorybill, of course. This was sometime in the 1960s, and the last confirmed sighting had been in 1944.

Eventually, Mom reluctantly decided it probably had been a Pileated woodpecker, which was marked similarly, but somewhat smaller in body length (Ivorybills have been reported up to 20 inches [51 cm] in body length; Pileated top out around 19 inches [49 cm] long), without as much white on their backs, and with a darker bill.

It may only have been one afternoon's excitement at the time, but I've had a soft spot in my heart for the species ever since. I was very interested when possible sightings were reported in Arkansas in 2004-5, and in Florida in 2006.

But it's hard to get sightings confirmed. If they do still exist, Ivorybills live WAY back in the most remote swamps you can imagine (habitat loss was the main reason for their decimation). The way there is literally "fur [far] an' snakey," as my grandparents used to say. A great many of the experts in the field remain unconvinced that there are still any Ivorybills out there somewhere. I sincerely hope that eventually it is found they do still exist. But I'm not holding my breath till it happens.

And let's PLEASE not follow the example of Mason Spencer, who in 1932 proved there were still Ivorybills along the Tensas River in Madison Parish Louisiana by shooting one, then bringing it back to the state wildlife office in Baton Rouge! Even more awful is the story from 1924, when Cornell University ornithologist Arthur A. Allen discovered what he feared might be the last nesting pair in Florida. Once word got out, a couple of taxidermists promptly went out and shot them (presumably to sell their stuffed bodies). Yes, we're demonstrably a gun-loving nation, but can we please think first?

Granted, it would be hard to haul the photographic equipment of the 1920s and 30s back up into the woody swamps to prove they still existed, but Cornell's intrepid Dr. Allen, accompanied by several colleagues, managed it in 1935, when he photographed and recorded the sounds made by a nesting pair in and area of old-growth forest known as the Singer Tract in Louisiana (Mason Spencer's neck of the woods, actually).

Two photos made in April 1935 by Arthur A. Allen in the Singer Tract, Madison Parish, Louisiana. These are among the last and best photographic images of wild Ivory-billed Woodpeckers. A breeding pair is shown here with their nest-hole. That's the male departing to hunt, upper L, and returning, lower R; his mate looks out from their nest.

For a trip back in time to 83-years-ago-this-Monday (the recording was made April 9, 1935), here's the recording Dr. Allen made of the Ivorybill pair shown above and below.
I I think it's worth a look at the comments section of the Macaulay Library's webpage devoted to the recording, too, but I'm kind of a geek.

Two more photos by Arthur A. Allen taken in April 1935: at left, the male Ivorybill emerges from the nest hole after the female returns from hunting. At R, the female takes over nest-guarding duties while her mate takes his turn.

The Singer Sewing Machine Co. later sold the 81,000-acre Singer tract to the Chicago Mill and Lumber Company. Despite efforts to secure the irreplaceable virgin forest for a nature preserve, Chicago Mill and Lumber logged whole thing. It's where the last known-for-sure Ivorybill, a female, was seen in 1944 by Don Eckelberry, an artist working for The Audubon Society.

If you've ever questioned why some folks think public land in nature preserves shouldn't be opened for exploitation by private logging or mining concerns, just think about the Singer Tract, and the Chicago Mill and Lumber Company, who apparently thought their ephemeral profits were more important than some stupid bird.

If you've ever wondered why some people think it's important to make it illegal to kill specimens of endangered species, just remember Mason Spencer and the Florida taxidermists. We may (probably) have lost the marvelous Ivory-bills, but there are many other endangered and critically endangered species now. Which ones will disappear on our watch? How many will we save?

IMAGES: Many thanks to Audubon Galleries for the photo of the Audubon Ivorybills; to Wikipedia for the field marks comparison of Pileated with Ivory-billed Woodpeckers and the four 1935 photos of the nesting pair by Arthur A. Allen; and to the Cornell Lab's Macaulay Library website for the recording of nesting Ivorybills calling and rapping.