The preceding chapters seem to be about shedding some light on misguided ecological presumptions about conservation and preservation. In chapters 8 and 9, however, Marris’ focus seems more shifted toward an economic standpoint. She emphasizes the point of utilizing every square acre, yard and feet for something, anything—from hosting wildlife to the growth of species pertaining to human value to simple aesthetics. For certain, humans are not putting every piece of inhabited or used land to its most efficient potential (irony in non-business economics for a heavily capitalistic society on this side of the hemisphere), and for reasons beyond ecology people are hesitant to accept some of the proposed changes (as perhaps too much of a city boy, I would prefer not to have bugs whizzing past every three streets, even as New York City opens its doors to beekeeping hobbyists). Yet, I would have to point out that her presumption of the rambunctious garden being healthier than the lawns we have now seems just as dangerous as the critics that she is trying to respond to. A rambunctious garden in the backyard is a real gamble; we do not know the migratory patterns, growth and attraction—heck, anything really—about what such a garden produce, as past ecological studies have shown about variables. Will we allow flora and fauna that will promote a nonvirulent ecosystem, or are we going to condemn a block full of houses because of some outbreak of something or other? Nature is funny that way; just because things work out in the end doesn’t mean it will work out in the short run or the interim.
Nevertheless, Marris’ economics-based ideas of what natural processes—catalyzed by anthropological means or otherwise—are convincing. They are not necessarily nitty-gritty, to-the-numbers convincing (thankfully, or this book would be more of an accounting balance page or a congressional bill than a pleasantly argumentative book), but she is eloquent in tying the money-saving potentials to her aforementioned ideas of rewilding and assisted migration. While it may not be as interesting for the scientists, it would certainly whet the eyes of the fat cats out there, who would subsequently assist the scientists in their field of work (and maybe make a pretty penny out of it). If money makes the world go round, we might as well use it as a tool to get people noticing the environment, no?
I am personally wary—or maybe petrified—by the idea of wild gardens on every patch of green in New York City. Perhaps they are mentally overdramatized (it’s not like there will be four-foot blades and territorial mammals hissing from the bushes, right?), but the balance seems… difficult to achieve. While the story of Seattle’s plagued river still being able to host fish and flora is an upbeat and bright one, it will take a little more convincing to let the small lots along Park Avenue grow into an active ecosystem (and I use the work active in the more literal sense, then it is probably implied, since insects and birds probably already use them as landing pads). Am I taking her ambitious tone too literally? I wouldn’t discount the notion. Alas, one of the many weaknesses of being a city folk.
