botany – Conservation Sense and Nonsense

The Illusive Definition of “Invasive” Plant

Kollibri Terre Sonnenblume and his writing partner, Nikki Hill, are co-authoring a book tentatively entitled “Don’t Blame the Messenger: A critique of the ‘invasive plant’ narrative.” Kollibri has published a draft chapter of their book on his Substack, “Speaking for the Trees, No Matter Where They’re From.” The chapter is foundational to their book and serves as a teaser for the rest of the book. More chapters of the book will be available to paid subscribers of Kollibri’s Substack, “Speaking for the Trees.”

Many thanks to Kollibri and Nikki for this important contribution to our understanding of invasion biology as an ideology based on many conundrums and contradictions.

Conservation Sense and Nonsense

St. Johnswort. Photo by Kollibri Terre Sonnenblume

What is an “invasive” plant?

What is an “invasive” plant? Colloquially, some gardeners call any plant that thrives and spreads with little or no care “invasive.” They cast the term on both “weeds” and on ornamental nursery plants that have the temerity to spread outside their apportioned area. Such gardeners are seeking to uphold a particular aesthetic and their impulse to design and direct can yield results ranging from elegant to cloying. If this were the only way that people used the word, “invasive,” it would be harmless, and there would be no need for this book. However, the label is applied far beyond this narrow context.

Going to the dictionary for the meaning of “invasive,” Merriam-Webster provides: “relating to, or characterized by military aggression.” The Cambridge Dictionary defines “invade” as: “to enter a country by force with large numbers of soldiers in order to take possession of it; to enter a place in large numbers, usually when unwanted and in order to take possession or do damage; to enter an area of activity in a forceful and noticeable way.” For “invasive” it says: “moving into all areas of something and difficult to stop.”

That’s clear enough. But what is the official definition of an “invasive species,” whether plant or otherwise?

The short answer is that there is none.

The longer answer is that there are many definitions crafted by various policy-makers, non-governmental organizations and advocacy groups. Here are a few:

US federal government: “an alien species whose introduction does or is likely to cause economic or environmental harm or harm to human health.”ⁱ
The United Nations Environmental Program: “introduced species that become established in a new environment, then proliferate and spread in ways that are destructive to human interests and natural systems.”ⁱⁱ
The International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN): “animals, plants or other organisms that are introduced by humans, either intentionally or accidentally, into places outside of their natural range, negatively impacting native biodiversity, ecosystem services or human economy and well-being.”ⁱⁱⁱ
Convention on Biological Diversity: “species whose introduction and/or spread outside their natural past or present distribution threatens biological diversity.”^iv

These definitions might seems straightforward at first glance, but a lot of ambiguity emerges as we unpack them.

The key words—“harm,” “destructive,” “negatively impacting,” “threatens”—beg the question of what constitutes “harm.” As we shall explore in this book, that’s not at all simple to answer in terms of ecological interactions. It’s even more difficult to identify what is “likely to cause” harm, as the feds put it. As invasion biologists have discovered, attempts to predict the results of species introductions based on the attributes of the species, for example, don’t have a very successful track record.

Also, if “harm” is being alleged then the possibility of benefit must also be admitted, a point completely ignored not just in these definitions but in most discussions or media coverage about “invasives.”

Economic concerns or “human interests” are named first by the US and UN, which might surprise people who think of the issue of “invasive” species as solely environmental. But commercial interests have had a strong hand in drafting the official policies that guide the “management” of “invasive” species. As we discuss in a later chapter, Monsanto and other nasty entities played a central role in the shaping US federal policy around “invasive species” because they profit from the sale of toxic pesticides used in their control. As for measuring the bottom line, one might assume that economic harm is readily quantifiable, but that’s also quite tricky, as we explain in the chapter “Lies, Damned Lies, and Statistics.”

“Alien” and “introduced” are synonyms for “non-native” (as are “exotic” and “non-indigenous”). The very concept of a “native plant” is a recent invention, though, and is another subject of contested deliberation, which we detail in “A Brief History of Invasion Biology.”

What is a fairly straightforward question in the Western Hemisphere—was it here before 1492?—is less clear in other regions. In the UK, some point to the Roman invasion of two millennia ago as the cut-off date (perhaps in part because that’s when bed bugs were introduced). In the case of Pacific islands like Hawai’i, some scientists designate species brought by Polynesians before the age of settler-colonialism as “non-native” but others limit it to European-introduced species. British colonization of the Australian continent commenced in 1788 (though the 1606 landing of a Dutch East India Company ship is the first documented European arrival) but some scholars label the dingo, introduced by Aboriginal people 4000 years ago, as non-native.

Political boundaries with no ecological significance can be a basis for defining nativeness, which also highlights the fact that nativeness is a scale-dependent factor. Tropical Milkweed (Asclepias curassavica) is native to North America from Mexico southwards but is called “invasive” in the United States (even though its pre-Columbian native range may have included southern Florida). Yet it’s also accurate to describe the species as “native to North America.” If a climate-induced, natural range shift of a species crosses the border of a country or a province will it be counted as non-native, but not otherwise?

Finally, how far does a species have to travel to be “out of range”? The endangered Monterey Cypress (Cupressus macrocarpa) is, according to journalist Andrew Cockburn, “a frequent target for the chain saws of the San Francisco Recreation and Parks Department—even though two small stands in Monterey, just fifty miles south, are cherished and protected as natives.”^v Meanwhile, a 500 mile drive north of its relict range, a large specimen planted by European settlers near Brookings, Oregon, in the 1850’s is an officially designated “Heritage Tree,” which we personally hope grants it safety because we’ve seen it and it’s majestic.

“Introduced” is shorthand for “introduced by humans either intentionally or accidentally.” It doesn’t include the actions of animals, weather, or other more-than-human agents in transporting species. It also doesn’t usually include indigenous humans, not because their own actions in moving around species haven’t been significant or are considered qualitatively different than those of settler-colonialists, but simply because they are generally not considered at all. This narrative omission is meaningful because it narrows the realm of possibilities for both human activity and human nature, a point we will be returning to in depth in later chapters.

In some cases, the non-native requirement has been dropped entirely. The State of New York includes the native Cup Plant (Silphium perfoliatum), on their “Prohibited and Regulated Invasive Plants” list because they characterize its growth as “aggressive.”^vi

This cursory sweep of these definitions demonstrates that we only need to scratch the surface of what is presented as a black and white issue to reveal a lot of gray area.

As we relate in detail later, similar accusations of “encroachment” by native flora are currently playing out with horrific results in the western US, where healthy woodlands of Pinyon-Juniper—declared a “native invasive” by some^vii—are being razed to expand rangeland for cattle.^viii

Further muddying the picture, the term “noxious weeds” is often used interchangeably with “invasive species” by organizations and individuals alike. The USDA has a list of “Introduced, Invasive, and Noxious Plants.”^ix The designation of “noxious weeds” is typically decided by local government entities in support of conventional farming and ranching, so a particular plant—native or introduced—will be added because of its purportedly negative effect on domesticated crops or animals. Thus, St. Johnswort (Hypericum perforatum) is bad because it can cause phototoxicity in sheep, Chervil (Anthriscus sylvestris) because it might carry a rust fungus that can affect cultivated carrot seed crops, and Pigweed (Amaranthus palmeri) because it grows in cornfields. Note that in the first two cases the plant or animal species supposedly threatened are themselves not native, and are products of a system—industrial agriculture—that is severely detrimental to the environment wherever it is practiced. Though Corn (Zea mays) is native, the ultra-hybridized and genetically-modified varieties grown today are so far from what indigenous people tended in Three Sisters arrangements that one could question if it’s even the same plant anymore. All three of these “weeds” also happen to be edible or medicinal for humans, so it’s a matter of priorities rather than usefulness that they’re slapped with a negative label and their eradication actively pursued. The primary motivation of noxious weed management is economic, not ecological—despite recent glosses of “sustainability” or “conservation” applied by some of its adherents—and more often than not involves pesticides.

What about science? How does invasion biology itself define “invasive?”

Scientists are well-known for disagreeing about definitions, and “invasive” is no exception. One biologist summed up the discussion by stating that there is “no indication that the field [will] be able to achieve uniformity in language in the near future.”^x

These are some of the concepts that have been used or proposed for “invasive”:

a species that successfully establishes itself in a new place
- such a species that establishes and has impact
  - such a species whose impact is negative
a species that, regardless of impact, establishes and spreads rapidly
a species that does any of the above which is non-native and introduced by humans
a species that does any of the above which is non-native, regardless of how it was introduced
a species that does any of the above which is native

These can’t all be true at once, obviously. There are too many contradictions. The science also suffers for dearth of agreement. One researcher noted that the “lack of consensus regarding the definition of invasive alien species (IAS) and vagueness around the demonstration of their impacts limits knowledge and research in this field.”^xi

Whether or not to use the word “invasive” at all is an ongoing debate in invasion biology. Historically, some scientists used the word “invade” and “colonize” to merely describe the movement of a species into a new area, or just the establishment of a species in a recently opened area, like after a fire, flood or landslide. But many scientists now recognize that, these days, the word has indisputably negative connotations which have implications not just within the field but for social discourse. Writes biologist Mark Davis, in his book, Invasion Biology:

I have never liked the term ‘invasion’ and think the field would have been much better off had it never been adopted, along with its accompanying military metaphors. Although the usage of military language may help to attract a group of highly motivated supporters, this same language may help foment a strongly confrontational approach, making it much more difficult to negotiate and resolve conflicts.^xii

More on the discussions within the field of invasion biology about terminology follow later.

A “confrontational approach” has certainly been a feature of too many discussions about introduced plant species. We have both been saddened to watch as native plant forums online, once a place to good-naturedly share photos and get IDs, have become toxic places where the word “invasive” is wielded like a club. Hateful rhetoric is the hallmark of dogma, not reason or thoughtfulness, and unfortunately it has been metastasizing in too many circles. We wonder how different the attitudes would be if “invasive” had never been used and we’d only ever had something neutral like “introduced” or nostalgic like “pioneer.”

**What’s not defined as “invasive” is just as important as what is**

Excluded from virtually everyone’s definition are the hundreds of non-native domesticated plants important to agriculture. This is highly significant given that over one fifth of the land in the lower 48 states of the US is cropland. That’s nearly 400 million acres of what was originally habitat for many, many native plant species. The excuse of “We need to eat!” doesn’t fly here; only 20% of that cropland is devoted to growing food directly for people; the majority of the remainder is for ethanol production, export industries, and livestock feed.^xiii

These stats should put the “invasive” dialogue into perspective. Picture the Midwest’s horizon-to-horizon corn and soy crops, California’s vast rice fields and almond orchards, or Oregon’s expanses of grass seed. These monocrops of non-native plants displaced prairies, forests and wetlands brimming with native flora and fauna. They are maintained with toxic pesticides and fertilizers, unsustainable water use, heavy machinery, fossil fuels, and oppressive labor practices. They dominate more than just their local geographical footprint, sucking in resources from distant places. According to the “invasive plant” narrative, the only “invasives” in these abused landscapes are the weeds coming up in the ditches or between the rows, a perspective we find perverse.

Other exemptions apply to the “invasive” label. As the US Department of the Interior’s Invasive Species Advisory Committee points out: “Kentucky bluegrass would be considered an invasive species in Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado, but considered non-invasive a mere 60 miles away at a golf course in Denver.”^xiv If anything is “invasive,” how is it not the golf course itself? In the arid Coachella Valley of southern California, over 140 irrigated golf courses represent the complete destruction of the desert habitats that they replaced, and are a significant draw on the region’s precious water.

The topic of golf courses leads us to another big omission: lawns, which in their emerald-green ideal are monocultures of non-native grass. If lawn grass were categorized as an irrigated crop in the US, it would be ranked number one in land area and water use.^xv Yet it is the Dandelion that sprouts up in the front yard that’s “invasive.”

The “invasive plant” narrative is not ultimately about logic or facts. It’s about beliefs and prejudices, so a more relevant question than, “What is the definition of an ‘invasive’ plant?” might be, “What is meant by ‘invasive’?” What does the word signify? From what cultural foundations does it spring and what narrative edifice does it help perpetuate? There’s the narrative—that some plants are bad because they’re foreign—and then there’s the why of the narrative, which we delve into in Part 3, “Culture.”

“Bad plant”

In sum, the term “invasive plant” is thrown around so carelessly these days that, in common usage, it doesn’t really mean anything beyond some vague notion of “bad plant.”

But there are no “bad plants.” There are just particular plants that particular people in particular places at particular times have considered undesirable for particular reasons. That’s a lot of particulars. Too many to brand a whole species of plant with a pejorative label like “invasive” or “noxious” as if that’s its entire, intrinsic nature. Does it make sense to weed a garden? Of course. But that’s no reason to elevate our subjective calls—useful as they might be in a particular place and particular time—to the level of a universal constant, and to manufacture an army of villains in doing so. That just encourages our own misguided tendencies and puts off the day when we resume healthy connection and relating with life on this planet.

A very real invasion commenced in 1492, and with it came what some Anishnaabe tradition-bearers call “invasive land-ethics,”^xvi a concept we explain in “Introduced Plants, Settler-Colonialism, Indigenous Perspectives and Decolonization.” These ethics drove the cutting of forests, draining of wetlands, mining of mountains, plowing of prairies, damming of rivers, and slaughter to near extinction of Buffalo, Prairie Dogs, Beavers, Bears, Cougars and Wolves. These misbegotten ethics are unequivocally real and are active threats to the planet’s environment. Without addressing them, the destruction will only worsen.

In the meantime, the “management” of “invasive plants” routinely has its own negative effects, which we detail in the next chapter.

Kollibri Terre Sonnenblume

Citations:

iExecutive Order 13112 – Section 1. Definitions, February 3, 1999. https://www.invasivespeciesinfo.gov/executive-order-13112-section-1-definitions

iiUnited Nations Environmental Programme. “Invasive Alien Species—A grwoing threat in regional seas” https://wedocs.unep.org/bitstream/handle/20.500.11822/13623/invasive_alien_brochure.pdf

iiiIUCN. “Invasive Alien Species” https://www.iucn.org/our-work/topic/invasive-alien-species

ivConvention on Biological Diversity. “What are Invasive Alien Species?” https://www.cbd.int/invasive/WhatareIAS.shtml

vCockburn, Andrew. “Weed Whackers: Monsanto, glyphosate, and the war on invasive species” Harpers (September 2015). https://harpers.org/archive/2015/09/weed-whackers/

viNew York State Department of Environmental Conservation. NYCRR part 575 Invasive Species Regulation. (September, 2014). https://www.dec.ny.gov/docs/lands_forests_pdf/isprohibitedplants2.pdf.

viiAnsley, R. “Managing Native Invasive Juniper Species Using Fire” Weed Technology 19 (Jul 2005):517-522 DO – 10.1614/WT-04-098R1.1 http://www.bioone.org/doi/abs/10.1614.

viiiFite, Katie. “The Terrible Destruction of Pinyon-Juniper Forests” Counterpunch (December 28, 2018). https://www.counterpunch.org/2018/12/28/the-terrible-destruction-of-pinyon-juniper-forests/.

ixUSDA https://plantsorig.sc.egov.usda.gov/java/noxious?rptType=Federal

xDavis, Mark. “Invasion Biology.” (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), p. 3.

xiFachinello MC, Romero JHC, Chiba de Castro WA (2022) Defining invasive species and demonstrating impacts of biological invasions: a scientometric analysis of studies on invasive alien plants in Brazil over the past 20 years. In: Giannetto D, Piria M, Tarkan AS, Zięba G (Eds) Recent advancements in the risk screening of freshwater and terrestrial non-native species. NeoBiota 76: 13–24. https://doi.org/10.3897/neobiota.76.85881

xiiDavis, 2009.

xiiiMerrill, Dave and Leatherby, Lauren. “Here’s How America Uses Its Land” (Bloomberg, July 31, 2018). https://www.bloomberg.com/graphics/2018-us-land-use/.

xivUS Department of the Interior Invasive Species Advisory Committee. “Invasive Species Definition Clarification and Guidance” April 27, 2006, p. 3. https://www.doi.gov/sites/doi.gov/files/uploads/isac_definitions_white_paper_rev.pdf.

xvCristina, Milesi & Elvidge, Christopher & C, J. & D, B. & Nemani, Ramakrishna & E, S.. (2012). A strategy for Mapping and Modeling the Ecological Effects of US Lawns.

xviReo, Nicholas J., Ogden, Laura A. “Anishnaabe Aki: an indigenous perspective on the global threat of invasive species,” Sustainability Science (2018) 13: 1443-1452. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11625-018-0571-4.

“Speaking for the Trees, No Matter Where They’re From”

When I announced my intention to quit publishing articles on Conservation Sense and Nonsense in December 2024, I invited like-minded allies to send me guest posts for publication. I also recommended several trusted sources of information about invasion biology and related issues.

I am publishing a guest article by one of those trusted sources today, with permission. Kollibri terre Sonnenblume is the author of “Speaking for the Trees, No Matter Where They’re From,” available on Substack. He introduces himself on that website: “Writer, photographer, tree-hugger, animal lover, occasional farmer, cultural dissident. Author of several books on ecology, human culture, and their intersections. Podcaster on the side.”

For readers who love all plants, both native and non-native, I recommend the Substack of Kollibri terre Sonnenblume . His articles are deeply researched, informative, and beautifully written. His knowledge of plants far exceeds anything I have learned about plants because he works directly with them as an integral part of his life and he is an astute observer.

Conservation Sense and Nonsense

What is a “native” plant in a changing world?

California Fan Palms in Anza-Borrego State Park in California (Photo by author)

The term “native plant” has become a common one, and many people probably assume that the definition is clear cut. However, like many other seemingly simple designations, that’s not the case.

It was in the UK in the mid-19th century where the concept of “native” as opposed to non-native was first proposed by Hewett Coltrell Wallace, who borrowed the terms “native” and “alien” from British immigration law. His definition of “native” also included “naturalized” species, which humans had introduced but that have come to live without them unaided.

Nowadays, whether a given plant is considered “native” where it is found growing is dependent on the interpretation of the interrelation of three factors: time, place and human involvement. There is no agreed-upon global definition.

So currently in the United States, a plant is generally considered native only if it grew here before European colonization. On the East Coast, that’s the 1500s and in California, that’s 1769. Plants introduced since then, whether deliberately or by accident, are labeled “non-native,” “introduced,” “exotic,” or in some cases, “invasive.”

In the UK, though the year 1500 is often cited too, some would set the date at the end of the last glacial maximum, 16,000 years ago, others at ~8000 years ago, when rising sea levels made those landmasses islands, and still others at the Roman invasion in 43 CE. Species introduced by the Romans can also be called “archaeophytes,” which inhabits a middle ground.

Other countries have their own cut-off dates, or, like China seem to still be working it out. Some have none at all, defining “non-native” only in terms of whether the species was introduced by humans, but not when. South Africa has a designation of “native-alien” referring to species that are native to one part of the nation but not to others.

Given that the term is so unstandardized, it’s impossible to make generalized statements about “native species” at the international level.

Plants on the move

The “native range” of any plant is not a static thing. Historically, plant ranges have always been in flux, often in response to climatic shifts, a process which continues in the present day more rapidly because of climate change. Had European colonization never occurred in the Americas, the ranges of plants today would not be the same as they were in 1492, which is a fact that’s not often considered in these discussions.

Fossils and phytogenetics are two things that can show us where plants used to live and where they came from. For example, when Spanish colonists arrived in California in the 18th Century, Coast Redwoods (Sequoia sempervirens) grew in a strip nearly 500 miles long and 5-47 miles wide from what is now Monterrey County in the south to Curry County (Oregon) in the north. Since then, over 95% of them have been cut down. The grievous sin of destroying so many Redwoods in California is compounded by the fact that much of their former habitat is now so altered by land use conversion and ecological changes like erosion that it won’t be home to these grand trees for the foreseeable future.

Only 10,000 years ago—a blip in geological time—Redwoods grew as far south as Los Angeles, and five million years ago, they were found in Europe and Asia. The species has also been spread around the world by humans, including to New Zealand, where a 15 acre grove has been growing for over a century. Due to favorable differences in soil and rainfall there, the trees happen to grow faster there than on the US West Coast.

We can ask, then: how should we define the current “native range” of Redwoods? Are the degraded places where they recently grew but now won’t still part of their “native range”? What about portions of the Oregon Coast immediately north of their most recent range, which they would naturally be moving into because of climate change, both anthropogenic and natural? What about New Zealand where the tree is thriving because the conditions for the tree are so appropriate? Is a Redwood grown today within its historic range in Europe truly “alien” or is it just coming home? By the narrowest definition of “native” these questions are absurd, but of course definitions too are always in flux.

For many, the salient point is “human interference” as opposed to “natural dispersal.”

In this way of thinking, the Creosote Bush (Larrea tridentata), the dominant and emblematic plant of the US Southwest’s Mojave Desert is native even though it arrived from South America as recently as 14,000 years ago, because its means of conveyance over those many thousands of miles was non-human; possibly in the tail feathers of migrating plovers.

But this way of thinking also tends to ignore an important element: the influence of indigenous humans over history, which definitely impacted the “native ranges” of many plants and animals.

Indigenous Land Management Practices

Controlled burns by Indians on the Great Plains expanded prairies at the expense of forests, which led to the spread of Buffalo.

Similar techniques on the West Coast maintained Oak Savannah and suppressed the growth of Firs and Hemlocks.

Seeds, bulbs, corms and other plant material for propagation were collected, transplanted and traded far and wide among tribes in North America. Some species (such as certain Mariposa Lilies in the genus Calochortus) may have dwindled in number to the point of being endangered these days in part because they are no longer actively tended by humans.

The case of the California Fan Palm is particularly intriguing. For years, it was believed that the iconic species was a millions-of-years-old relict, left over from when its current desert home in southern California was much moister. However, phytogenetic analysis proved that the species emerged quite recently, since the last glaciation period 11,000 years ago.

It’s long been known that Indians made use of Fan Palms and their groves for food, craft material, and as places to live. They planted trees and they also set fire to them to clear away the dead leaves so they would be easier to climb to collect the dates. (Fan Palms are fire tolerant.) However, it also appears that they might have been responsible for introducing them to the majority of locations within their “natural range” beyond the small area in Baja California where they originated. (See my Did Native Americans introduce Fan Palms to California?)

If this is the case, then the groves that remain are not the result of “natural dispersal” as that term is usually understood and are more akin to abandoned agricultural sites than to “wilderness.” What, then, is the best way to treat them? I mean, if we’re not going to allow tribes to maintain and use them as they did which is obviously the right answer? Burning is prohibited, as is harvesting and planting the fruits when the trees are on public land. Our current policy aims to protect the trees (which is understandable) but perhaps the actual result is neglect.

California Fan Palms are not the only trees that humans have moved around. In Asia, the “native range” of the Carpathian Walnut coincides with the route of the Silk Road. The distribution of food plants within the forests of the Amazon are anthropogenic. Polynesians brought plants with them as they made new homes on islands throughout the Pacific Ocean. In eastern North America, the “native ranges” of Black Walnut, Pawpaw, Persimmon, Chestnut, and Shellbark Hickory and other food plants are also the result of indigenous human influence. (h/t to Zach Elfers for this info.) They are all considered to be “in the right place” because that’s where they were before a particular calendar date.

Point being, ecosystems that we consider to be “wild” or plant ranges we consider to be “natural” are in many cases human-made or human-impacted. Some would go so far as to say that the very concept of “wilderness”—as in “untouched by humans”—is tantamount to indigenous erasure.

We are a plant-moving species, like many other animals. That settler-colonialism has wreaked havoc on the ecosystems of the Americas is all too clear but to conclude that all the introduced plants who live here now “don’t belong” because “we” brought them here is, I would argue, a step too far, much in need of nuanced examination. The idea that they should be eradicated purely on the basis of place of origin is not merely misguided, but dangerous, given the collateral damage that such efforts inevitably cause, such as disrupting beneficial relationships between native and non-native species that have since formed. Fortunately, the conversation does not need to be so limited.

“Novel Ecosystems” & Ecological Succession

Often, native plants are valorized and non-natives villainized in a reflexive manner that belies the facts on-the-ground. How well an introduced plant has integrated into its new setting is rarely considered by many people (though some invasion biologists do). Or the question of whether plants can become “native.”

“Novel ecosystems” are mixes of native and non-native species. Though formerly ignored by most researchers, they are now garnering more attention because it’s recognized that they operate like any other ecosystem, with their constituent species interacting and adapting and filling different roles just like happens anywhere else.

In California, approximately 1/3 of native butterfly species now use non-native plants as food sources and as egg-laying sites. The range of some of these butterflies has expanded as a result. (See: “Exotics as host plants of the California butterfly fauna“) This has been fortunate for the butterflies, since so much of the habitat that previously provided for them has been destroyed by human activity since 1769, through activities including agriculture, ranching, deforestation, mining, urban sprawl and—most recently—industrial-scale “green” energy installations. The butterflies are adapting to novel ecosystems.

Saltcedar/Tamarisk (Tamarix sp. and Russian Olive/Oleaster (Elaeagnus angustifolia) are oft-maligned as “invasive plants” that should be eradicated. But in the western United States, these two trees are now the third and fourth most frequently occurring woody riparian plants, and the second and fifth most abundant species along rivers. To kill them all would entail destroying a significant amount of healthy vegetation (with no small amount of collateral damage to other flora) and would incur an ecological cost. Their prevalence is due mostly to the thousands of dams that have disrupted most riparian areas in the West, making them less hospitable to the original natives like Cottonwoods and Willows. Novel ecosystems are emerging.

Fifty kinds of birds nest in Tamarisk, including the Southwestern Willow Flycatcher, which is endangered because of habitat loss. At least 44 kinds of birds, as well as various native mammals, eat Russian Olives as winter hardy food. Given the prevalence the introduced trees now, and the dearth of the natives, many animals are now dependent on them. Spraying the trees with herbicides has not, and will not, change the fact the dams are responsible for the altered landscape, not the trees themselves.

At some point, do we recognize that the Tamarisk and the Russian Olive are de facto “native” even if they’re not de jure? For what it’s worth, all those birds have already cast their vote. Additionally, from a taxonomic perspective, hybridization among various introduced Tamarisk species have produced fertile offspring that may be declared a new species, Tamarix americana [reference]. Since this species is found only in the US, isn’t it “native” here?

Additionally, “novel” aspects might be temporary after the process of “succession” advances. “Succession” is a common ecological process in which the dominant flora of a landscape changes over time due in part to the ways that landscape is changed by the flora itself. So, after a disturbance—such as a landslide or the building of a road—the first wave of plants (which are sometimes called “pioneer species”) are often annuals that quickly fill the space. They will produce a profusion of flower that attract pollinators and seeds that feed animals. Such pioneers can be thorny, which is nature’s way of saying, “Keep out while I fix this!” A hallmark of this stage is the rebuilding fertility in the soil.

The annuals might be followed by shrubs, including berry bushes, which attract yet more animals, including birds. The scat left by these animals enriches the soil more. The bushes provide shelter for trees to germinate, and in time, the trees shade out the berries.

There are cases where disturbed landscapes “invaded” by non-native plants have been left untouched, and the exotics have ended up doing nothing more than fulfilling the role of pioneer species, and the area has returned to “natives” over time. So, when “invasives” are constantly beaten back in a given location, it’s possible that this interference is holding back the natural process of succession and ironically working against the intended goal of bringing back natives.

Novel ecosystems demonstrate nature’s inherent resilience. What we need to do is recognize them as ecologically legitimate and work with them from there. As time goes on, we’ll certainly have more opportunities.

Climate Change

According to National Geographic, “Half of All Species Are on the Move.” This is because, as the climate changes, so do ecosystems. With temperatures rising, species are moving further north or higher in elevation. As time goes on, this means that more and more species will migrate “outside their natural range” thereby becoming “non-native” or even—to some—“invasive.”

Those that can migrate, that is. Many plants will become, as wildtending guru Finisia Medrano used to say, “refugees without legs,” unable to flee fast enough and far enough to find safe haven. If that’s the case, then we must help them, Finisia repeatedly counseled.

The biologists call this “assisted migration” and it’s a topic that coming up more frequently as time goes on. Some of the strongest arguments against it come from the anti-“invasive” crowd, but many native plant lovers are in favor.

Does It Matter?

The term “native” can have utility; it tells you that a plant was well-adapted to a given place in a given time period because of the conditions that existed there then, and this can be helpful in understanding a species or an ecosystem. But it’s not an ancient, universal concept among all humans by any means, and ultimately it’s just a label of no account whatsoever to the big mover and shaker of life, Mother Nature.

Kollibri terre Sonnenblume