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POV— continued from page 18<br />

Laura Ogden — Dartmouth University professors of<br />

Indigenous environmental studies and anthropology,<br />

respectively — in an ethnographic study of Anishinaabe<br />

perspectives on invasive species. (The Anishinaabe are a<br />

group of culturally related First Nations peoples in the<br />

Great Lakes region of Canada and the US.) Anishinaabe<br />

ideas, Reo and Ogden found, reflect a worldview that sees<br />

animals and plants as belonging to nations with their own<br />

purposes and believes people have the responsibility to<br />

find the reason for a species’ migration. The authors’<br />

sources recognized parallels between the extermination<br />

of species deemed invasive and the dark history of<br />

colonial violence against Indigenous peoples. The<br />

interviews “helped me recognize the ways in which<br />

different philosophies of the world shape our ethical<br />

response to change,” Ogden says.<br />

Life is “extremely adaptable and regenerative and<br />

dynamic,” Wallach says. “Go back 10,000 years, and it’s a<br />

completely different world. Twenty thousand years, it’s<br />

different. A million, 2 million, 500 million … There is no<br />

point that things aren’t shifting and moving.”<br />

Another scientific idea that captures this notion is<br />

“novel ecosystems,” or, as environmental journalist Fred<br />

Pearce has termed it, “the new wild”: ecosystems that<br />

have arisen, intentionally or not, via human introduction.<br />

In Tierra del Fuego, at the tip of Chile and Argentina, a<br />

particularly dramatic novel ecosystem is taking shape. In<br />

1946, beavers were introduced there in a futile attempt to<br />

create a fur industry. Instead, the animals proliferated<br />

and munched down the region’s Nothofagus — southern<br />

beech — forests, creating dams and ponds. “They are<br />

these miraculous world builders,” says Ogden, who wrote<br />

an essay imagining the beavers not as invaders, but as a<br />

diaspora. (Beavers have also been a boon for ducks and<br />

other marine species.) The invasive species paradigm,<br />

Ogden adds, is devoid of nuance, history, and politics; she<br />

prefers a concept that gives expression to the moral<br />

complexity of the beavers’ presence in South America, as<br />

well as the fact that they had no choice in being moved<br />

there.<br />

The beavers should ultimately be removed from the<br />

forested areas, Ogden believes, though she doesn’t<br />

think we can do so with a clear conscience, and says<br />

eradication “seems very unlikely.” But the idea of a<br />

diaspora opens up a way of thinking about what we owe<br />

the beavers, as opposed to how to expel them. After<br />

75 years in South America, don’t the animals have a claim<br />

to living there? What right do we have to exterminate<br />

them?<br />

I posed this question to Daniel Simberloff, the<br />

prominent invasion biologist. “I don’t believe they’re<br />

endangering any of the Nothofagus species,” he<br />

acknowledged, noting that there hasn’t been enough study<br />

to know what impact the beavers are having on species<br />

that require the southern beech forest habitat. Still, “I think<br />

it’s a disaster that this native ecosystem is being<br />

destroyed and replaced by pastures of introduced plants,”<br />

Simberloff says. “Other people may not agree with me.”<br />

Even when it’s packaged as objective science,<br />

conservation always entails value judgments. One might<br />

say that the deaths of 100,000 beavers should count as a<br />

“disaster” just as much as the demise of an old-growth<br />

forest. Conservationists will have to choose whether to<br />

meet ecosystem disruptions like this one with the “war<br />

machine” of invasion biology, as Ogden calls it, or to come<br />

to terms with a changing world.<br />

For now, the dark unicorn, the thumbnail-sized snail<br />

that caught marine ecologist Piper Wallingford’s eye,<br />

continues inching up the coast of California. “The question<br />

of how they’re getting from one site to another is still one<br />

that we can’t answer,” Wallingford says.<br />

There is something humbling in seeing other species’<br />

will to survive in an interconnected world undone by<br />

climate change. Though the dark unicorns’ movements<br />

elude our understanding, they already know where they<br />

need to go.<br />

They Can’t Read or Write.<br />

But They Sure Can Multiply.<br />

Fix Your Pet.<br />

CRITTER MAGAZINE • JANUARY 2022 • PAGE 23

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