In chapter 8 of her novel, Marris discusses designer ecosystems–not an emulation of any baseline, but the best possible version of that ecosystem. Essentially, designer ecosystems are created to make the habitat better than normal; the goal is to make the area work and thrive most efficiently and effectively. Trying to restore an area to its baseline is an extreme amount of work, complex ecosystems have not yet been fully figured out. “The organisms and the relations between them that have emerged from million sof years of natural selection are likely going to outperform anything we cobble together n our computers, whether the goal is spaces for recreation, management of energy and nutrients, protection of biodiversity, or provision of services” (130). Marris wishes for an “unweedy and untidy” rambunctious garden and, similarly, Rene Dubos wished for “new environments that are ecologically sound, aesthetically satisfying, economically rewarding and favorable to the continued growth of civilization” (131).
In my opinion, I agree with Dubos; that seems like the most sensible and overall satisfying goal. Fundamentally, though, that idea lies on a foundation of anthropogenic acceptance. It boils down to the two opposing viewpoints of accepting or not accepting humanity’s inevitable interaction with and transformation of their natural surroundings. Some people are proponents of “island civilizations,” where there’s a separation between man and nature, while others, supporters of design ecosystems, lean toward “managed nature, designed to support humans and other species” (page 132).
As for chapter 9, Marris weaves together all the concepts she previously discussed up to this point–assisted migration, rewilding, exotic species, and novel ecosystems. I found myself agreeing with her point of view throughout; there truly was a strong emphasis on interconnectivity of man and wild. Similar to the Duwamish River Cleanup Coalition’s “eco-industrial vision,” a balance can be found between the natural and industrial worlds. “To make the most of our protected areas, we must think beyond their boundaries” (135). Industrial areas, like the roofs of factories such as the Hostess Cupcake factory in New Jersey, can transform the tops of their buildings into “green roofs,” which serve as habitats for plants and insects, simultaneously “reducing water runoff and counteracting the urban heat island effect, where dark roofs and pavements suck up sunlight” (143). This is an example of what Marris and other scientists refer to as “corridors”–small, natural areas that serve as bridges between larger habitats for various species. Implementing the creation of these natural spaces is a large step in overall conservation, considering how great of a role corridors play in the migration of species or the settlement of species. In the same way, farms and agricultural land are or can become “agri-environments” that serve both economic and preservation needs. Marris suggested that businesses, those of which have strips of outdoor land on their property, landscape with self-sustaining plants so as to create or add to the rambunctious garden that exists in so many places overtly or discretely. It simply requires adjustments be made to our aesthetics, accepting a more natural, wild look than we’re accustomed to. The Highline is an example of a “small city garden as a ‘reserve’ for nature,” (146) amidst the concrete jungle and business capital of the world. Ultimately, striving to find a balance between industry and wilderness is a more realistic approach to conservationism than investing all efforts and energy into reverting back to an assumed baseline environment.
