Invasions

Yesterday, in the waning light of day, I went on a walk around the property with no real intent or purpose other than to stroll. Soon I was in the forest that is on the edge of the creek. The primary trees are ash and oak. Susan had spent many hours this summer clearing some of the blackberries away... and the English Ivy.

Soon I was under the spell of pulling the ivy from climbing the trees. These invasive species easily colonize an area and choke out the existing vegetation. In a couple sections of the land it seems that these two intruders are the dominate species. The Snowberry, Bramble Rose, and fern seem to be retreating from this persistent onslaught. With the intent of returning the land to as many native species as possible, I tear the ivy from its hold as it climbs to the sunlight.

There is something very satisfying about pulling a 10 foot long section of ivy from the ground. At one point I fantasized about hiring high school students and paying them by the foot for harvest these plants. Money would run out before the ivy did. So I continued to pull and follow the roots deep and long.

As the light continued to fade I realized that in pulling up the roots I was disturbing the homes of many creatures that we fail to take into consideration- ones that I don't even know exist. The ants, pill bugs, termites, and the tiny microbes that digest the humus. I'd follow one runner under a fallen branch, through a blackberry thicket and then it would break off.

Now, what's the problem one might ask. Walking through the campuses of higher education it isn't uncommon to see ivy clinging to the brick walls. There is something iconic about these plants clinging to the side of a building; something pretty and pastoral about it. So why do I keep pulling at these plants? What makes something invasive? When does an invasion cease to be an occupation and turn into the normal state of affairs? I guess it is a matter of perspective.

It seems that one of the problems with an invasion or an invasive species is the movement toward domination and submission of that which has been there before. Prior to the invader arriving, there was a balance, and now there is an attempt at subjugation of that which was there before. But where does one draw the line? After all, isn't the spreading of seed, rhizomes, roots, and boundaries a natural imperative?

It boils down to this: I like biodiversity and plants like blackberry and ivy tend to dominate and slowly turn the environment into a monoculture. We plan on pulling out all the ivy... even though it seems to be a sysphian task. (Though we plan on restricting blackberries because the berries are delicious.)


Though, on my computers I have found something destroying the library of my photos. They have become corrupted. I wish it were as easy as pulling ivy to find out what is going on... they say that Macs don't get attacked by viruses. So that means it is an internal invasion... a kind of digital virus. It also means that I have limited photos to post with this entry.

May your lives be free of unwelcome invasions.