In Chapter 8 of her book, Marris talks about the concept of “designer ecosystems”, opening with a story about the archetypal “streams” we, along with most ecologists, all imagine – a clear line of water flowing down a cliff or mountain. These are the types of streams restoration ecologists have been trying to recreate, until it was recently discovered that the streams in the eastern United States, were actually more like ponds than streams in early history. As a result, numerous streams have been torn down, in an effort to start all over and recreate this new revelation of what they looked like before, which in Marris’ view, is rather fruitless. The alternative to this, is as she puts it, a designer ecosystem, where instead of restoring an entire ecosystem, you design or reengineer it to fit specific goals that can make the area better, or help a certain species (page 125). She gives another example of this idea of reengineering, the plight to save the Galapagos Penguin. Rats that have been introduced to the area where these penguins live eat the chicks, resulting in the species’ endangerment. However, instead of getting rid of the invasive rats, scientists have drilled more nesting holes for the penguins, which would allow them to reproduce in greater numbers, hopefully allowing the species as a whole to stay ahead of the species reductions caused by rats (page 128). Interestingly enough, this example particularly also adds to her point from her previous chapters, about how invasive species don’t necessarily need to be killed off to prevent damage to ecosystems, and that there are ways around it – such as in this penguin instance.
Proponents of these designer ecosystems envision a world covered in “managed nature, designed to support humans and other species” (page 132), while those who oppose it argue that they prefer more “island civilizations”, where humans and nature are kept separate, with humans in dense urban cities, and the rest of the planet left alone for nature to thrive. Marris, on the other hand, hopes for a combination of both – that ecologists will come around to seeing the benefits of these engineered ecosystems that allow humans and nature to co-exist, but also leave some areas wild and untouched, just to see what can come of them.
In Chapter 9, titled “Conservation Everywhere”, Marris begins to tie together the ideas and themes that she has been weaving throughout the preceding chapters of her book. She writes, “rewilding, assisted migration, and embracing some exotic species and novel ecosystems may seem like disparate strategies, but they are all at some level about making the most of every scrap of land and water, no matter its condition” (page 135). She emphasizes that connectivity to nature is key in conserving it, and that scientists must bring together all types of land to create that connectivity. “Ideally, reserves should be scientifically designed to achieve conservation goals agreed upon by interested parties while being sensitive to the needs of the people who now live or once lived on the sites in question” (page 138). She goes on to provide very interesting examples of ways such connectivity can occur – she mentions Ford Dearborn truck assembly plant in Michigan, and the Hostess Cupcake factory in New Jersey, and how they both now feature green roofs, which replicate ecosystems and create a home for various plants and bugs while at the same time, reducing water run-off and counteracting the urban heat island effect. I believe that this is a perfect example of the Rambunctious Garden Marris has been advocating for throughout the entire book – a mutually beneficial conservation strategy ideal for the urban setting.
