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By Joseph B. Verrengia The Associated Press
B L A C K W
A T E R N A T I O N A L W I L D L I F E
R E F U G E, Md., Sept.
27 — Bill Geise has met the enemy. It’s a swamp
rat as big as a pit bull and about as affable. A quartet of orange buckteeth
jut from its pinched face like a mouthful of Doritos.
Those chisels are good for one thing: tearing out acres of tender salt
marsh plants by the roots. The nutria is native to South America but has
invaded this tranquil, tawny fringe of Chesapeake Bay where Geise wandered
as a boy. Safe from predators a hemisphere away, flotillas of the web-footed
rodents are defoliating one of the United States’ richest preserves. One
third of the refuge’s original 23,000 acres of whispering bull rush and
cordgrass now are silent mud flats and sterile bays that stretch for miles
into the hazy horizon.
A Plant for a
Plant
The nutria is killing the place Geise loves. He aims to return the favor.
“To me,” complains Geise, now the Blackwater’s fire warden, “nutria are
no different than somebody taking a bulldozer to the marsh.” Ecologists
estimate that more than 6,000 alien plant and animal species like the
nutria have invaded the United States, with dozens more arriving each
year. A few arrived with the first Europeans 500 years ago, but the increase
in global trade and tourism in the jet age has turned the trickle of previous
centuries into a torrent. They cross oceans and continents in the shoes
and luggage of tourists, in shipping ballast, in packing materials, even
in bald tires heading to recapping plants. Most are stowaways; some are
brought in deliberately.
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Since 1995, the Moapa dace
minnow, right, population has been decimated by the marauding blue
tilapia, left, a fish native to the Nile River and introduced illegally
four years earlier into the Muddy River in Nevada.
(Moapa Valley National Wildlife
Refuge)
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Changing Whole Ecosystems
Aliens are redrawing the global landscape in ways no one imagined. They
crowd out native plants and animals, spread disease, damage crops and threaten
drinking water supplies. At Yellowstone Lake, alien sport fish introduced
by fishermen munch on endangered cutthroat trout. In large parts of San
Francisco Bay, aliens account for nine out of 10 species.
Exotic species are a parasite on the U.S. economy, sapping an estimated
$138 billion annually according to a Cornell University study. That’s nearly
twice the annual state budget of New York, or a third more than Bill Gates’
personal fortune. Aliens have contributed to the decline of 42 percent of
the country’s endangered and threatened native species, according to the
U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Nor is it a one-way street. The North American
gray squirrel is wiping out native red squirrels in Europe. An Atlantic
jellyfish contributed to the collapse of Black Sea fisheries already weakened
by pollution. Ecologists warn that, collectively,
this “biological pollution” poses nearly as great an environmental threat
as habitat losses generated by more familiar enemies of nature including
development, clear-cut logging, overgrazing and oil spills.
The Battle Rages
On
“We have inaugurated a new era of ecological chaos,” said Chris Bright
of the Worldwatch Institute in Washington. “When an exotic establishes
a new beachhead, it can spread to new areas and adapt. This is happening
all the time, virtually verywhere.” So far, like human immigration control,
the battle against alien species has been spotty, expensive and largely
ineffective. Two dozen federal agencies have
stitched together a crazy quilt of detection and eradication efforts with
state and local authorities. But much of the effort is aimed at ports,
borders and threats to crops. There is little left over to combat emergencies.
In February, President Clinton formed a Cabinet-level task force to defend
more strenuously against exotic species. Three departments, Interior,
Agriculture and Commerce, are seeking $28.8 million in fiscal year 2000
for a wider battle.
Feeding the Weed
Counterattack
The Agriculture Department alone spends $30 million annually on weed management.
But Randy Westbrooks, the federal government’s noxious-weed coordinator,
has just $450,000 to counter new outbreaks. Westbrooks’ latest foe is
a Brazilian native known as floating fern, discovered in the Toledo Bend
Reservoir in east Texas. He complains he lacks emergency funding to eradicate
the aquatic weed while the outbreak is small. To do the job himself would
exceed his annual budget. “It’ll spread through
every waterway in the South,” Westbrooks predicts. “When it starts clogging
pipes and burning out irrigation pumps, we’ll pay attention to it.” Florida
already has been particularly hard hit by alien species. Ecologists estimate
that one in every four plant and animal species there is not native. The
alien species invasion — Interior secretary Bruce Babbitt calls it an
“explosion in slow motion” — is turning even staunch conservationists
into stone cold killers. They’re trapping nutria. Poisoning sport fish.
Ripping out saltcedar with bulldozers and chains. “Restoring the wilderness
means bringing some land under tighter human control in the short term,”
said ecologist Greg Aplet of the Wilderness Society.
Waiting for nature to heal itself has failed miserably, many environmental
groups acknowledge. Within a few years, people wake up to find unfamiliar
plants and animals growing like kudzu, the alien plant that ate the South.
Paradise Lost?
They’re in national parks and monuments. In wildlife refuges and coastal
marine sanctuaries. In wilderness areas that were intended to remain living
dioramas of our American paradise lost. Alien species are invading cities,
too. The Formosan termite, a stowaway in crates that brought equipment
back from the Pacific during World War II, has infested 90 percent of
New Orleans’ gracious French Quarter, where it is causing an estimated
$300 million a year in damage, repairs and pest control. The super-termite’s
jaws have put the area on the National Trust for Historic Preservations’
list of the 11 most endangered historic sites. It’s the only site on the
list because of a bug. The Asian longhorned beetle is destroying thousands
of hardwood trees in Chicago and New York City, threatening to turn shady
neighborhoods into urban deserts. The treatment has been as painful as
the invasion: chopping down of infected trees. The U.S. Department of
Agriculture says the insect could cause about $138 billion in damage if
it breaks out of it beachheads in the two cities and becomes widely established.
In some places, researchers are turning to high-tech and unorthodox weapons.
Radar Used to
Spot Nests
University of Kentucky scientists fly a radar-equipped airplane over the
Ohio River Valley to find the Asian tiger mosquito. The mosquitoes don’t
make a radar blip, but the radar can spot hidden mounds of scrap tires,
where the insects breed. Tiger mosquitoes love tires. They arrived in
1985 in a Japanese container shipment headed for a Houston recapping plant.
They have spread to 25 states and followed trade routes to Africa and
South America, too. Aggressive biters, tiger mosquitoes transmit 17 potentially
fatal tropical viruses, including dengue fever, yellow fever and forms
of encephalitis. One dengue epidemic linked to the tiger mosquito in Rio
de Janeiro infected 1 million people. Outbreaks have not been reported
in the United States, but public officials were concerned enough to spend
$2 million removing a swampy tire dump adjacent to Disney World after
the tiger mosquito was found deep within the piles.
Billions from
Rogue Mussels
In the Great Lakes and in Mississippi River basins, zebra mussels are
expected to cause $5 billion in damages to shipping and power plants by
2002, according to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Biologists believe
the Black Sea natives were stowaways in ballast water of cargo ships that
was discharged into Lake St. Clair near Detroit in the late 1980s. Damage
by the thumbnail-sized mollusk represents only a fraction of the costs
being rung up by invasive species. The total is $138 billion annually
and growing according to Cornell University economist David Pimentel.
His study, the most comprehensive of its kind, considered such factors
as crop losses, depressed land values, eradication programs and medical
bills covering everything from invasive pathogens like AIDS to emergency
room treatments for feral dog bites. As a last resort, scientists are
taking the risky step of fighting aliens with aliens. They travel to the
exotics’ homelands to recruit natural born killers — predators, parasites
and pathogens — that previously held the pests in check.
Even Allies Sometimes
Turn Coats
Unfortunately, some biological agents turn traitor and attack native species
after being released here. In Hawaii, for example, the carnivorous rosy
wolf snail was imported to kill the giant African tree snail. Instead,
it has pounced on 800 local mollusk species, driving more than 50 to extinction
since the mid-1950s. Such ecodisasters are prompting more rigorous testing.
On the Pine Butte Swamp preserve in Montana and
other northern Plains sites, managers have cautiously released a cavalry
of tiny flea beetles in patches of leafy spurge since 1994. So far, the
flea beetles appear to be devouring only the alien weed, but it could
take years before scientists can be sure.
Hitchhiking with
Immigrants
The leafy spurge, a Eurasian herb that infests 5 million acres from California
to Maine, is believed to have hitchhiked in sacks of grain seed brought
from Russia in 1827 by Mennonite immigrants. Give an alien species two
centuries to spread and, experts say, eradication may be impossible. Some
have been here longer still. Spanish conquistadors brought horses — as
well as smallpox and other alien diseases — to the Americas 500 years
ago. Some pests have grown so familiar that people don’t realize they’re
aliens. For example, American colonists brought the dandelion from Europe.
By those measures, leafy spurge is a newcomer. Still, states spend $144
million annually to fight it with little success. In Ashley National Forest
in Utah, crews have drenched one patch with herbicides for 13 years. At
Pine Butte, spurge is overtaking the last prairie wetland visited by grizzly
bears. Perhaps the flea beetle will crawl to the rescue since it co-evolved
with the weed in Eurasia. Nothing else works.
Buds May Benefit
from Bugs
“There are buds in the weed’s roots,” explains Keith Fletcher of the Nature
Conservancy’s Iowa chapter, who released flea beetles last summer at the
Broken Kettle Grasslands Preserve in the Loess Hills near Sioux City.
“If you pull it, mow it, burn it, if you take a disc and cut it up into
1-inch pieces, it stimulates these buds to make new seeds.” In the Blackwater’s
fetid, brackish wetlands, nutria are the furry equivalent of leafy spurge.
Swamp ranchers, who once envisioned selling their pelts as a middle-class
mink, brought the rodents to 21 states in the 1930s and 1940s. In Louisiana,
for example, E.A. McIlhenney of Tabasco sauce fame imported 13 nutria
from Argentina. But nutria chic was doomed by fickle fashion tastes. Set
free in the Blackwater and elsewhere, the rodents started doing what comes
naturally — gorging and mating. In 16 months, a single female and her
progeny can produce 150 offspring. In Louisiana, the Tabasco family’s
baker’s dozen now number at least 3 million in the bayous. Maryland’s
population is 50,000 and growing rapidly. The Blackwater is the epicenter
of the boom, but nutria now infest the entire Eastern Shore. “They are
furry cockroaches!” state biologist Robert Colona shouts over the racket
of a motorboat. He gestures with his cigarette at a ragged stretch of
half-eaten Blackwater salt marsh over the bow. “You might not see nutria
very often, but their signs are everywhere — their tracks, their droppings.”
They are devastating habitat for rare native species like bald eagles
and eliminating nurseries for the crabs and oysters that have paid the
mortgages of tidewater families for generations.
Gnaw, Let’s ‘Eat
Out’
Nutria scatter into the heart of a wetland and randomly chew into its
thick carpet of starchy roots. Biologists call those “eat-outs.” Aerial
photos show the marsh damage blistering until the eat-outs merge into
open bays. Then saltier water from the Chesapeake seeps in with the tide,
strangling stands of loblolly pine and accelerating erosion. “It’s a cancer,”
said refuge biologist Keith Weaver. To these researchers, the only question
is how best to kill nutria. Louisiana’s eradication program failed despite
extensive trapping and poisoning campaigns; now its motto is population
control. One agency posts Cajun recipes on its Internet site. (Nutria
gumbo? Pass the Tabasco.) A sheriff’s SWAT team blasts the rodents for
nocturnal target practice.
Nutria
Spooked by Motorboats
But the nutria are growing cagey. “They’ve gotten real suspicious of a
boat motor,” Colona said. “The dumb ones already have been weeded out.”
Next year, Blackwater and state agencies will launch a three-year, $2.9
million eradication campaign. Geise still relies on the paths and false
channels he memorized as a boy to navigate the refuge. He’ll guide biologists
who plan to fit males with radio transmitters to map their wanderlust.
They’ll test traps, poisons and some unconventional biological lures —
vocalizations and sex hormone scents — that put a modernist twist on the
Pied Piper legend. Their ace in the hole? Cold weather. A nutria in Brazil
rarely encounters a snowflake. Geise hankers for a winter like 1978, when
much of the Chesapeake froze solid. Out on the marsh, he would find nutria
huddling 15 or 20 deep. “Kick the piles apart, and underneath you could
find a few still alive, trying to keep warm,” Geise recalled. Hardhearted?
Geise offers no apology. The South American interlopers have forded a
creek to infest the swamp behind his ancestral farm, too. “I grew up on
the Blackwater,” he declares, “and I’m watching it disappear. It’s really
sad.” Spoken like a true native.
Copyright 1999 The Associated Press. All rights reserved
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