The concept of rewilding is a very radical and grandiose idea. Specifically Pleistocene rewilding, the idea of recreating ancient, pre-human ecosystems (before even native human inhabitants) using existing species as proxies is an incredible project. To be fair, if the natural processes it hopes to promote occurs as intended (or, even if unintended, sufficiently nature-like), then the rewilding project that Donlan, Vera and others hope to implement would probably be less labor-intensive and cheaper than most preservation techniques. The idea of Pleistocene rewilding is nothing short of absurd, since it would require the transport of many species across continents to create, as Marris puts it, an imperfect replica of the environment it hopes to be. Some species, like elephants, which emulate the massive herbivores in past North American ecosystems, would be an undoubtedly peculiar sight, while others, like cougars, which proxy for carnivorous predators, frighten opponents at the prospect of living near such dangerous animals.
The benefit of the concept of rewilding is that it promotes the concept of an imperfect and non-“pristine” nature. In contrast to preservationists, it requires human interference to at least initiate and catalyze the process of creating nature. Also unlike preservationists, who hope to save the lives of flora and fauna alike, rewilding, at least in the eyes of Frans Vera of the nature reserve Oostvaardersplassen, also includes death as a natural process (death meaning corpses of animals and the like, notably absent from many Yellowstone postcards). Furthermore, rewilding promotes a cycling and changing ecosystem, of plains and shrubs and forests, of population shifts of predators and prey. Rewilding may very well be the last thing from a conservationist’s idealistic vision, but it does seem like a practical vision.
On the flip side, rewilding as an idea is too rural or nature oriented. The ideas put forth by Marris, her colleagues and travel associates focus very much on reforming preexisting natural terrain; they do not consider urban settings. This does give pause for some concern; from rural towns to urban metropolises, few would truly appreciate the notion of rampaging pachyderms or growling carnivores at their doorstep. In those cases, the damage caused by nature may well overshadow the cost-saving intention of rewilding, especially in the long-term. Plus, while the idea of returning to a Pleistocene era would be an attractive baseline to reach, it may not be entirely practical with regards to the changing global ecosystem. Marris and her researchers did study about repositioning tortoises to proxy in certain archipelagic systems, but the reports of the species that the tortoises replaced were extinct for a few centuries; the Pleistocene rewilding scheme hopes to predate millennia of change, humans or otherwise. There will be unintended consequences to rewilding, no doubt about it. Marris does note that success or failure, such a project would provide valuable information. Where the line between in control and out of control of the situation is the question of this ambitious idea.
In all, Marris and her scientists do have a case for rewilding, even for Pleistocene rewilding. However, I believe that it should be done in small and moderate scales; a series of mountains, or large plains, would be an appropriate setting for rewilding, but entire continents should not be redecorated for the sake of nature. I would doubt that neither the animals nor plants nor humans could beneficially survive such a radical transition. Rewilding works, to some extent; it just needs a bit more time to refine.
