Washington: Wolf’s return means impenetrable forests return

President Theodore Roosevelt created Mount Olympus National Monument
in 1909 to protect the unique subspecies of elk that now bears his
name. None of that solicitude was extended to wolves, which were
trapped, poisoned with strychnine and shot on sight. The final
stragglers were killed around 1920. Elk populations spiked, and park
managers warned of the consequences. “Unless some substitute for this
now-absent controlling factor (the wolf) is provided, serious
destruction of certain plants and even their total elimination …
will occur,” said a 1938 report.

No trace remains of the wolves whose
howls ricocheted for millennia down the lush valleys of the Olympic
Peninsula. But the loss of the stealthy predators in the early 1900s
left a hole in the landscape that scientists say they are just
beginning to grasp. The ripples extend throughout what is now Olympic
National Park, leading to a boom in elk populations, overbrowsing of
shrubs and trees, and erosion so severe it has altered the very nature
of the rivers, says a team of Oregon State University biologists. The
result, they argue, is an environment that is less rich, less
resilient, and — perhaps — in peril. “We think this ecosystem is
unraveling in the absence of wolves,” said OSU ecologist William
Ripple. Everything from salmon to songbirds could feel the fallout
from the missing predators, the scientists say. It sounds hard to
believe, but the research adds to growing evidence that key predators
do more than simply keep prey species in check.

Most famously, Ripple
and his OSU colleague Robert Beschta showed that within three years
after wolves were reintroduced to Yellowstone National Park and elk
populations fell, pockets of trees and shrubs began rebounding.
Beavers returned, coyote numbers dropped and habitat flourished for
fish and birds. It was an “explosive” discovery, said David Graber,
regional chief scientist for the National Park Service. “The whole
ecosystem re-sorted itself after those wolf populations got large
enough.” A push to reintroduce wolves to Olympic National Park a
decade ago fizzled in the face of local opposition, but the OSU work
could revive the debate. “If what we’re saying is right, and the Park
Service believes it, that means they have to do something,” Beschta
said. Beschta was searching for cottonwoods in the Hoh River rain
forest on a day when clouds and sunshine chased each other across the
sky. Centurion cedars unfurled their boughs. Raindrops glistened on
waist-high ferns, and a carpet of moss muffled the sound of footfalls.
Few corners of the state are less touched by man, and the idea that an
ecological crisis was unfolding seemed laughable.

“To most people,
this would look pretty pristine,” Beschta conceded. But decades spent
studying forests and rivers have taught him to notice things most
people don’t. Those “fern prairies,” for example, shouldn’t occupy
vast swaths of forest floor. Nor should you be able to see 100 yards
in any direction. “This looks like a well-kept lawn,” Beschta said
with dismay. Some are skeptical of the pair’s conclusions, including
Olympic National Park wildlife biologist Patti Happe. She questions
some of the historical records used to conclude the ecosystem has
shifted, and points out that increased erosion could be caused by more
frequent floods in recent years. “There’s no denying that predation
… would shape the behavior and population numbers of elk,” she said.
“But how much, we don’t know — and to extrapolate that to salmon and
(rivers) is to my mind just too big of a reach.” The explorers of the
Press Expedition, which crossed the Olympic Peninsula in 1890,
described the upper Quinault River as “so dense with underbrush as to
be almost impenetrable.”

They tried to float the river, but found it
jammed with logs — bad for navigation, but excellent for fish. “These
rivers don’t look anything like that today,” Beschta said, surveying
the bare gravel and scattered logs. On two river sections outside the
park where elk are less plentiful, the scientists documented narrower
channels and stream banks less damaged by browsing and erosion. “The
degradation we’re seeing in the park is profound. It’s catastrophic,”
Beschta said. Robert Naiman, who has studied Olympic’s rivers for
decades, finds that a bit alarmist. Though the mix of vegetation has
changed, said the University of Washington ecologist, species like
alder still line the riverbanks and abundant dead wood provides
refuges for salmon. “It’s in pretty good shape, as near as I can
tell,” he said.
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/nationworld/2008667916_wolves25.html

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