by Luke McNally, RGS & AWS Champlain Region Forester
“I used to see a lot of birds around here and now I don’t.” This is the comment I hear more than any other in response to my introduction. Standing in line at the gas station in Addison, Vermont, a farmer, a tradesman or a local cabin-dweller tells me: “We used to see those on the side of the road all the time… I don’t see them anymore.”
There are several reasons why folks in the country don’t see “pah-tridge” as much these days. A reduction in wildlife occupancy should always be blamed on habitat degradation. There are, of course, many expressions of habitat degradation, ranging from historical to contemporary. For today, I’ll focus on one that takes up a lot of my time.
Around 2012, natural resource managers in Vermont observed some sort of tipping point. Until then, the presence of invasive species was a peripheral observation, a minority annoyance. Then, under our noses, an explosion of weeds were suddenly omnipresent. By the time that hockey-stick moment of exponential growth had crested, it was too late. Conservationists, with their focus captivated by a myriad of other political “issues,” have often ignored how bad the invasive species really are.
The Champlain Valley is not the grouse mecca that Maine, Northern New Hampshire or the Northeast Kingdom provide. It is, however, rich in Wildlife Management Areas (WMA), a state land classification that would presume providing abundant wildlife habitat. On the New York side, most public land is designated according to the doctrine of preservation; however, WMAs and state parks are more common in a cluster within the boundary of Clinton County.
I appreciate vast wilderness as much as the next wayward disciple of Leopold, but my work in private lands conservation takes me more often to the front country hedgerows and hay meadows, the woodlots and reverting farmlands of the Champlain valley. I like these bottomlands and wet areas. That is where all the ducks are, and the ginseng, ginger, bloodroot, hickory nuts, mushrooms, mayapples and other species that I find interesting. Nobody ever caught a mess of perch up on top of Camel’s Hump, so I reckon I don’t need to go there. The National Park Service, by its own admission, has a tendency toward protecting sharp, pointy rocks above 10,000 feet, projects where biodiversity has historically taken a back seat to scenic vistas.
Even nine miles into a remote Rocky Mountain wilderness area, I’ve found invasive species, so there is no place unadulterated. For me, the fight is right here in my backyard. How are we supposed to win the wilderness without first becoming intimately familiar with the husbandry of a 40-acre woodlot?
It’s worth noting that analogies about fighting and winning are hardly appropriate to the practice of habitat restoration. This isn’t football. There’s no habitat end zone and the game won’t be decided in a matter of hours. The only constant is that the landscape is constantly changing. Natural resource management has much more in common with the mentality of a gardener or a farmer than it does with a warrior or conquistador. It’s about cultivating and nurturing; we should steward our lands rather than beat them into submission. Yet, despite my reluctance to use paramilitary comparisons, I’ve had to reflect upon why I enjoy invasive species management so much – and that’s probably because it’s a real bruiser! It’s a chance to give it both barrels, knowing you’re doing a good thing, and feeling happy about it.
Here in the valley, what’s left of our habitat is to be treasured. We work primarily with the Vermont Natural Resources Conservation Service to install habitat improvement treatments ranging from tree and shrub planting, invasive species control and diversification of forest structure in its many forms to the reclamation of old farm and skid roads that aren’t draining water properly. With vegetation, it’s worth defining what the goals are. We’ll never eradicate invasive species. Instead, our focus is on staking out defensible space. Just like in the wildland fire service, you need an anchor point. Then you dig in and expand outward from there.
We can’t protect high quality wildlife habitat everywhere, so we’ve identified forest restoration blocks. We do projects where biodiversity is already present and worth protecting, where scientific data indicates we might have success. And near projects that our partner organizations are already working. Most of all, we do projects where landowners are willing to work with us. These dynamic forest blocks are our anchor points. Not every acre is going to hold grouse or provide the haven it once did for migratory warblers. So, we stake out what we can and preserve every cog and wheel we can get our hands on.
What’s the context in which we hope to achieve native habitats? In agricultural environments, non-native alfalfa and timothy grass have proved to be quite useful. We won’t get rid of these plants – and we shouldn’t try. The apple tree, native to Mongolia, is a favorite among hunters. Though not an original food plant for North American grouse and deer, apples don’t spread like a virus and wage chemical war on their opponents like many of the more noxious non-native species do. I can’t control what ornamentals get planted in the suburbs. I can’t even eradicate the invasive periwinkle at my own house. That is why I’ll always beat the drum for our public lands, our shared spaces to create habitat for critters and for people to enjoy them.
Remember: these things are complicated! Contrary to widespread belief, deer will eat the leaves of young buckthorn plants. Birds do nest in it and they eat honeysuckle berries – although these berries are the avian equivalent of trans fats or sugary cereal. Why should we care if these plants are here to stay? It’s about maintaining some defensible space. It’s about having more than one type of understory plant growing in the forest so that we can have more than one type of birds and bees to make their home here. If we can get a few more of those nannyberries and arrowwood viburnums to grow alongside those honeysuckles we won’t ever quite eradicate, then you and your bird dog will once again see good hunting in the valley.
Here are some tips for engaging in the management of invasive species.
- Learn to identify the primary malefactors and catch it early! I know of several spots where I’ve observed a transformation in habitat quality over the past four years!
- Contact your local department of environmental conservation or fish and wildlife office and let the manager know that you are concerned about mediocre wildlife habitat at [insert name of]Wildlife Management Area due to the proliferation of knotweed, honeysuckle, phragmites, buckthorn, etc. State agency biologists have told me personally that they want to hear from you!
- Speak with your local Soil & Water Conservation District or Natural Resource Conservation Service about what can be done to control the spread of invasive species on your own land. There may be some things you can do on your own. Remember that when using herbicides, it’s easy to break the law so hire a professional applicator if you’re spraying more than a few individual stems. Herbicides are safe for water quality only when applied within the acceptable application rates. Such calculations involve a bit of math.
- Speak up if your highway department is scraping the ditch. They should be washing equipment in between job sites and disposing of contaminated fill dirt in a landfill. You don’t want that topsoil full of weed seed to show up near your property! If you hire a contractor, make sure their equipment tracks are clean before they enter your property. Make sure contractors sign a contract prior to implementing forestry and habitat work and add a stipulation about clean equipment tracks on your property and adherence to your state’s water quality best management practices. If you need help with this, contact your local RGS forester or Soil & Water Conservation District for assistance.
