In chapter eight and nine of Rambunctious Garden, Marris introduces the idea that restoration initiatives that attempt to return ecosystems to a particular baseline are not as factual as ecologists once thought. Take the restoration of streams, for example. Pre-European arrival in the Piedmont region of eastern United States, streams were actually more like swamps. A revolution in restorative ecology has spurred the theory that venturing to restore streams is actually an attempt to restore an artificial state.
If restorative efforts choose baselines arbitrarily, can we really call it historical restoration? What has resulted is a completely new theory. Marris states that in one way or another, all restoration projects are planned, thus labeling them designer ecosystems. Taking this idea one step further, Marris introduces a more radical kind of designer ecosystem: “…not emulating any base line at all but building de novo to achieve a particular goal” (126). Some ecologists argue that we should be more concerned with constructing ecosystems that are the most advantageous rather than trying to restore ecosystems that may not have as many benefits, thus improving conservational value. Take ecologist Rene Dubos, for example. He believed in human-created landscapes designed to support humans and other species. Historian Roderick Nash, believes in the “garden scenario” in which humans have total control over nature, aiming to produce benefits.
In reality, practicing such theories is extremely tricky because there are far too many variables involved. Our ecosystems are remarkably complex and do not go through biotic changes or abiotic changes exclusively. If this were the case, restoring hybrid ecosystems would be a bit simpler. In truth, however, both biotic and abiotic changes usually occur simultaneously, making complete restoration a fleeting objective. Humans do not yet know enough to patch together different kinds of land to form novel ecosystems. Instead, humans have been “rambunctious gardeners” for centuries, mildly altering and designing our own ecosystems. National and neighborhood parks, home gardens, nature reserves and the like all seem to embody designer ecosystems.
As Marris alludes, restoration ecologists are similar to doctors, looking to heal wounded nature by returning it to a natural state. Ecosystem designers, on the other hand, are beginning to see possibilities in “designing, engineering and cooking up something new” (126). Essentially, historical ecological restoration has become moot by the belief that environments are ever-changing and ecosystems are highly dynamic. Marris seems to believe that if we are able to overcome the gestalt switch in our minds, then we may be able to one day witness the coexistence of humans and nature, just as can been seen in Alberta’s Banff National Park. The “graceful wildlife overpasses and underpasses” that serve as roadways to zooming cars are also utilized by moose, lynx and other animals that migrate and disperse (138). If we can effectively let go of our need to always work back to a baseline, “history becomes…a guide instead of a straightjacket” (131).
