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<H2><FONT size=2><EM>Thanks to Gabriela Chavarria for this
article</EM></FONT></H2>
<H2>What does it take to save a species? Sometimes, high-voltage power
wires<o:p></o:p></H2>
<P class=byline>By Beth Daley, Globe Staff | November 22,
2009<o:p></o:p></P>
<P class=byline><IMG SRC="cid:X.MA1.1259001941@aol.com" height=633 width=539 DATASIZE="521259" ID="MA1.1259001941" ><o:p></o:p></P>
<P>FOR DECADES, NOBODY in the US had seen the bee.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>The silver-haired black Epeoloides pilosula was once widespread in New
England, often found where native yellow loosestrife plants grew. But as the
region’s pastoral landscapes gave way to forests, the bee lost its sunny open
home. In 1927 it was spotted in a Needham meadow and then, despite years of
searching, not again. By the start of this century, dejected bee lovers were
forced to conclude that the insect was likely extinct in the US.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>Then, one bright June day in 2006, eureka: The bee was found in a hillside
meadow by David Wagner, a University of Connecticut conservation biologist
conducting a two-year bee survey in southern New England. Once the species was
confirmed, there was a celebratory Mexican dinner and a published paper that
rippled through the conservation world. If a rare bee like that could be found
again, biologists reasoned, maybe there were other rare bees, plants, and
wildlife hidden in similar environments.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>Even more remarkable, though, was the environment where this find was made:
In a 250-foot-wide power line corridor off Route 163 in Southeastern
Connecticut. Transmission corridors have long been considered symbols of
environmental degradation, with their enormous steel skeletons and high-voltage
lines slicing through forests, wetlands, and salt marshes; they divide the
landscapes that thousands of species need to survive. Yet now they are gaining a
new reputation: As critical homes for faltering species of birds, bees,
butterflies, plants, and a host of other species.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>The corridors - carefully maintained to prevent trees from growing high
enough to touch tension lines - can recreate the meadow and shrubby landscape
that once dominated New England. Some scientists are even looking at these
corridors as grassy escape routes for animals and plants from the harsher
effects of climate change as temperatures rise worldwide.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>“It’s hard to explain to conservation groups that [species] are being saved
in the most unpopular and disturbed kinds of landscapes,” said Robert Askins, a
biology professor at Connecticut College who has studied birds in transmission
corridors. “I was shocked originally to be working in them
myself.”<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>The idea that transmission line corridors or any human-built infrastructure
may actually help species is a counterintuitive one in the conservation
movement, where the emphasis is often placed on preserving a landscape - usually
by leaving it alone or ensuring it remains in some “natural” state to help
certain species thrive. But in crowded New England, where people have altered
the landscape for so long, saving beloved species may actually take more - not
less - human intervention.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>As species become more integrated with the industrialized infrastructure we
have constructed, people’s view of nature is also changing. One reason delighted
commuters on Route 128 see more turkey vultures, some naturalists suggest, is
that the southern species might be enticed northward by the intricate array of
highways that makes it easy for them to find road kill. And who can’t be proud
that Boston’s skyscraper ledges have helped endangered peregrine falcons return
from the brink of extinction?<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>“I have heard the Northeast described as a large zoo, the whole place is
completely managed,” said Katharine C. Parsons, senior scientist at Manomet
Center for Conservation Sciences in Plymouth. She is spearheading a new effort
to work with states, companies, and wildlife groups to best site, construct, and
manage transmission lines. “Intervention is what we do, whether we are
conservationists or not.”<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>Parsons is looking at the possibility that new transmission corridors will
serve as emergency exits for animals or plants as the climate shifts. New
England is already experiencing warmer winters, lengthening springs, and more
extreme weather, such as severe rainstorms. Challenged species may be thwarted
from moving to better environments because of highways or other obstacles
blocking their way. The corridors, Parsons and others suggest, may provide these
species an easier path north.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>Now, as thousands of miles of new lines are proposed across the country to
move wind and other renewable energy, conservationists are beginning to think
about ways the lines can also be used to help the species we want to save. That
may include avoiding biological hotspots where endangered species live, ensuring
the pathways serve as critical links between larger tracts of forest, and better
managing the corridors to entice species that have few other places to
go.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>It may not be a purist’s view of saving nature. But as the world gets more
crowded and true natural lands disappear, it is quickly becoming what
conservationists have to work with.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>“You wouldn’t go out and design a landscape for ecological services and put
roads or transmission lines there,” said Marc Lapin, a conservation biologist
who teaches environmental studies at Middlebury College. “But this is looking
for ecological value in something that is benefiting humans.”<o:p></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 12pt"><o:p> </o:p></P>
<P>BEFORE EUROPEANS ARRIVED, New England’s vast mature forest wasn’t all shade.
Beavers would regularly chew down trees, creating dams that would flood - and
then drown - large sections of the forest. Lightning, or Native Americans, would
spark fires that consumed thousands of trees. And winds from fierce storms would
blow down enormous swaths of the woods.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>A baby forest would then spring up in the disturbances’ wake. Within months,
grasses and wildflowers would begin to grow in the sunny break. Vines and
thickets would follow. For a decade or two - before tall trees crowded out the
brush and shaded the area again - the swaths would be dense growths of
shrubland.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>Many animals seek or require these shrubs or clumps of grass as nest sites or
for feeding. Others find food and cover in the brambles and thickets. The
chestnut-sided warbler and American woodcock birds, snowshoe hares, and New
England cottontail all use this land. Frogs, snakes, bees, and butterflies also
need or thrive in the areas - often called early successional
habitat.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>There was once lots of it. Most of New England was deforested by the late
19th and early 20th centuries for farmland and pastures. The majority of rocky
ground was gradually abandoned. For generations, before the forest slowly took
over, there was an abundance of this open landscape. Animals, plants, and insect
species that thrived in that sun-loving habitat exploded. People began
treasuring them.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>Now, as forests mature, that landscape is disappearing. What’s more, there
aren’t the natural disturbances that took place before Europeans arrived.
Beavers are often not tolerated, and firefighters ensure forest blazes don’t get
out of control.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>As a result, some birds cannot find the grass or shrubland they need to nest
in and don’t reproduce in the numbers they historically did. There are fewer
swaths of meadow and shrub for many of the region’s hundreds of species of
native bees to pollinate, so they too have gradually disappeared. The reclusive
New England cottontail rabbit, which once found safety in the impenetrable
thickets of early successional habitat across the region, has not been seen in
Vermont since the early 1970s and the population has plummeted throughout the
region - largely because of habitat loss.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>And now, love them or hate them, New England transmission line corridors are
beginning to serve as substitutes for some of that shrub land - and are even
being deliberately managed to do so. Decades ago, the corridors were hand or
mechanically cut. Then, during the post-war suburbia boom when many more
corridors were being built, companies turned to the wide use of herbicides,
reducing most corridors to grassy swaths and reducing
biodiversity.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>In the 1950s, an independent Connecticut ecologist named Frank Egler began
wondering if there was another way for the companies to ensure trees didn’t grow
without killing virtually everything else in the corridors.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>“He wanted to know could you just take out the tall trees and leave the
native plants, shrubs, and low trees,” said Glenn Dreyer, director of
Connecticut College’s Arboretum. Egler’s research showed yes - if herbicide was
selectively applied to individual trees, only those trees would die.
Wildflowers, grasses, and native shrubs would then take over, eventually making
it more difficult for tree saplings to grow.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>Northeast Utilities, which manages about 1,900 miles of transmission
corridors in New England, was one of the first to buy into the idea. Today, it
and other key regional transmission managers - National Grid with 2,000 miles,
NStar with about 400 miles, and Central Maine Power Company with 2,100 miles,
for example - say the vast majority of their corridors are managed that way.
Every few years, vegetation managers rotate through the paths, placing herbicide
on tall-growing trees such as ash, maple, birches, and other saplings. New
England remains an exception, however, according to national transmission line
experts.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>“We have a well-educated population here; if you don’t do things right you
are going to be in trouble,” said Tony Johnson, supervisor for transmission
vegetation management for Northeast Utilities. The utility helped fund the study
that found the almost extinct bee. “And if you do things right, you get to
convert some people.”<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>Of course, some people dismiss the idea of transmission lines as beneficial
and say no herbicide should ever be used - especially in places with sensitive
waterways nearby. In Eastham, Wellfleet, and Orleans this summer, residents
became worried about an NStar plan to start using selective herbicide on
transmission corridors that were historically mowed. The plan is on hold,
according to NStar.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 12pt"><o:p> </o:p></P>
<P>ONE RECENT SUNNY day, Manomet’s Parsons stood knee high in brush on an
arrow-straight transmission line corridor in Plymouth near Route 3. A loud,
steady buzz of insects interrupted her identification of native shrub species. A
dragonfly careened in the air toward her. The hilly area was covered with
grasses, bushes, and small trees so dense it was impossible to walk through. A
small wetland surrounded the base of a few steel structures.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>As new transmission line corridors are built, Parsons and others are looking
for ways to make the corridors work with the ecosystems they cross. She says
some will need to avoid rare species habitat or critical wetlands. Her program,
funded by the Wildlife Action Opportunities Fund - a partnership between the
Doris Duke Charitable Foundation and Wildlife Conservation Society - is helping
map those spots across New England and is beginning to talk to transmission line
companies early on to site new ones in appropriate places. Others suggest the
corridors should be built next to highways or railways to lessen the impact on
forests. Scientists at The Nature Conservancy in New Hampshire are researching
how and why lynx, black bear, bobcat, and other species use the corridors.
Meanwhile, David King at the US Forest Service in Amherst, Jeff Collins of the
Massachusetts Audubon Society, and other researchers published a paper this year
suggesting that wider corridors helped threatened shrubland bird species more
than narrow ones. Connecticut College’s Askins came to a similar conclusion in
his research.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>And the tiny bee? It’s not alone. Other corridors have rare plants. And a
rare moth was recently found in another.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P>“We’re finding lots of other rare plants and wildlife,” said
Wagner.<o:p></o:p></P>
<P><EM>Beth Daley is the Globe’s environment reporter. She can be reached at <A title=mailto:bdaley@globe.com href="mailto:bdaley@globe.com">bdaley@globe.com</A>. </EM> <IMG SRC="cid:X.MA2.1259001941@aol.com" height=8 alt=http://cache.boston.com/bonzai-fba/File-Based_Image_Resource/dingbat_story_end_icon.gif width=6 border=0 DATASIZE="49" ID="MA2.1259001941" ></P></DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT lang=0 face="Gill Sans MT" size=2 FAMILY="SANSSERIF" PTSIZE="10"><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>Laurie Davies Adams<BR>Executive
Director<BR><B>Pollinator Partnership </B><BR>423 Washington Street, 5th
floor<BR>San Francisco, CA
94111<BR>415-362-1137<BR>LDA@pollinator.org</FONT><FONT lang=0 face=Arial color=#000000 size=2 FAMILY="SANSSERIF" PTSIZE="10"><BR><BR></FONT><FONT lang=0 face="Gill Sans MT" color=#0000ff size=4 FAMILY="SANSSERIF" PTSIZE="14"><B><A href="http://www.pollinator.org/">www.pollinator.org</A></B></FONT><FONT lang=0 face="Gill Sans MT" color=#000000 size=2 FAMILY="SANSSERIF" PTSIZE="10"></B><BR><A href="http://www.nappc.org/">www.nappc.org</A><BR><BR></FONT><FONT lang=0 face="Gill Sans MT" color=#000000 size=3 FAMILY="SANSSERIF" PTSIZE="12"><B><I>National Pollinator Week is June 21-27, 2010. <BR>Beecome
involved at <A href="http://www.pollinator.org/">www.pollinator.org</A></I></FONT></B></DIV></FONT></BODY></HTML>