I’ve put in my time in the invasives war: digging wild chervil, clipping buckthorn, hacking at Japanese knotweed. I’ve been reasonably relentless, and many times have pointed out these bad plants to unsuspecting friends and other landowners in an effort to spur them to action.
But even if I engaged in this effort full time, I’m afraid I will always have more invasives on my conscience than I can possibly eradicate.
About forty years ago, we planted 100 autumn olives on the place where I used to live in Corinth. I think they were free; if not they were very cheap. A long list of wildlife species was going to benefit from our plantings. We were going to be delighted by the countless mammals and birds that would be drawn to our yard by the tasty fruits.
Plus, autumn olive was known for its toughness. These little babies weren’t going to disappear into the grass like the elderberries and viburnums I had spent good money on in earlier years.
And how true this last part turned out to be. I haven’t lived at that place for 25 years, but when I stopped by last fall, I was horrified. Autumn olives are everywhere. They are scattered all over the abandoned fields and are well established on a neighbor’s land. The dense shrubs were loaded with small pinkish berries the day I stopped by, ripening up and getting ready to advance the front line.
I have even found autumn olives growing several miles away, although I hold out the dim hope that someone else has these farther flung ones on their conscience. I can’t deal with the thought of having caused that much environmental degradation.
How could I have done such a stupid thing? It wasn’t a glossy catalog photo that seduced me. It was the Vermont Department of Fish and Wildlife. As I recall, I picked the plants up when I was collecting the red pines, white pines, white cedars, and larches that I also planted that year. Across the region, government biologists were extolling the virtues of autumn olive, Russian olive, and worse, multiflora rose. Today, we all know better.
The dogged advance of these and other non-native plants is something to behold. Not only do these invasives lack native predators and pests, they also engage in chemical warfare. Autumn olive secretes a substance that interferes with native plants’ ability to obtain nitrogen, and then walks right over them.
Scientists are currently studying these chemical mechanisms in hopes of neutralizing this unfair advantage. Whether it will result in successful ways to fight back is not clear. We could all use some more effective ammunition than clippers and Roundup.
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