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Through the animal and vegetable kingdoms Nature has scattered the seeds of life abroad with the most profuse and liberal hand; but has been comparatively sparing in the room and the nourishment necessary to rear them. The germs of existence contained in this earth, if they could freely develop themselves, would fill millions of worlds in the course of a few thousand years. Necessity, that imperious, all-pervading law of nature, restrains them within the prescribed bounds. The race of plants and the race of animals shrink under this great restrictive law; and man cannot by any efforts of reason escape from it. - Thomas Robert Malthus, An Essay on the Principle of Population, 1798
Along a scenic stretch of the Olentangy River, in central Ohio, is a rock jutting out of the water where I like to sit and think. I often refer to this rock and its surroundings as my "office." As the water rushes past me I can enjoy observing a wide variety of plants and animals while I cogitate about life's origins and destiny. Where there is water there is life, and within view is a diverse array of life, or rich biodiversity.
Certain of the diverse biological organisms at the office are among my favorites. The damselflies seem to perform an aerial dance for me above the calmer recesses near the shore, while water striders skate on the clear surface below. Occasionally a fish jumps up from the middle of the river and then quickly retreats to the depths, while other creatures find sustenance in the riffles where the shallow water rushes over the pebbles. The children who often visit my office with the local naturalists are always astounded by the living treasures their nets catch in the riffles: mussels and darters adapted to the fast-moving water.
In the shade of an old and large sycamore tree, I glimpse a wealth of birds landing and taking off from its branches, flying on to a locust tree on the opposite bank. And, if I'm lucky, I'll get to see a passing deer or woodchuck. Other representatives of life's diverse array are much less noticeable, but no less intriguing. Lying underneath the fallen sycamore leaves on the banks are all sorts of tiny organisms that enrich the soil. Many of them I cannot see, for there is no microscope at my office, but I know they are there. And they do a good job of cleaning up after the leafy "paperwork" that comes across my "desk" with the breeze.
Although my office is usually pleasant, sometimes the accommodations are not very practical. In the summer the insects can be a nuisance, and often, quite literally, I get a bug in my laptop computer. In the winter it can be bitterly cold, and with the return of warmer weather, the melted snow and spring rains conspire to submerge my rock. Despite the difficulties of accessing my office in the spring, the raised water level does have its advantages. The sound of the rushing water at that time of year is sufficient to drown out the jarring noises from the trucks and cars on the nearby "scenic highway." And I can view a different array of creatures and life stages that comprise the river's life system each spring.
Even in the summer and fall, when I utilize the office the most, there is really no room for my files and books. Like many people, I need a lot of space for the tools of my trade, but at this office my needs must be met by what is in my laptop computer or in my head. Moreover, my work is often interrupted, for I have to share the space with others who also come to the river to escape the clutter of suburban life. I'm happy to share the office with them, unless I see their picnic garbage floating down the river.
Farther downstream, and a short drive down the accompanying highway, is my real office at The Ohio State University. There, within the city of Columbus, the river takes on a vastly different nature. There are few trees to provide shade, and mammalian life is largely restricted to students and squirrels (not to mention the bats inhabiting the antiquated building that houses my Department of Anthropology). In place of the rich biodiversity are classroom buildings, libraries, and an imposing stadium that emits loud roars during Saturday afternoon football games in the fall. It is fun being among the hundred thousand or so people who create the cacophony in the stadium- indeed, I love all the trappings of the university and the lifestyle it provides me. But if I want to study biodiversity along the university's stretch of the river, then I have to find life's riches primarily in books and laboratories. People need space and resources, as do all living beings. But nature "has been comparatively sparing in the room and the nourishment necessary to rear them" indeed. That humans and other organisms often compete for these commodities is the subject of this book.
Life at Home
I have yet another office taking up space at home-sometimes I need a retreat from the insects and students that bug me at my other offices. It seems humans can always find a way to use space when it is available, one way or another. My house in suburbia is on recently converted agricultural land. One can easily tell by the lack of tall trees in the area. Fields of corn and wheat have been permanently replaced by stretches of grass and aluminum-sided human shelters, divided up by an intricate matrix of asphalt roads. Just to the north, reaching farther and farther from the city, are more homes under construction, taking up more and more of the valuable fields of grain. The city population is growing, and growing rapidly. This is natural. Humans love to reproduce-babies bring us much joy, and the process of making them is a great source of pleasure too. So the population grows. And, along with the new homes to house this population are new office buildings and new malls, as well as new roads and new parking lots to ease our way around the businesses-all taking up space, and covering what was once rich farmland.
Some people take a look at the loss of farmland and get worried about where our food is going to be grown. If there is less farmland to feed more and more people, ultimately the day will come when there won't be enough food to go around. This may or may not be a legitimate concern for now; indeed the amount of farmland has stayed relatively constant in the United States despite suburban sprawl, and new patches of land around the world are being cultivated with ever more sophisticated and efficient techniques. True, if the trend continues, then ultimately that day of concern will come, and we will have to reckon with the consequences. But for right now it seems that, technically speaking, there should be enough food and land-for humans, that is. One should note, however, that famine is still quite common in many human populations. And one should wonder why.
What concerns me more than the loss of agricultural land is the demise of what existed there before it was cleared for crops and livestock. The forests that once covered Ohio are now all but gone, save a few patches, and the rich soil they created is being depleted by careless farming practices or getting covered with asphalt. With the natural forests and prairies went the plants and animals that once lived there. Also gone are the swamps and bogs that gave refuge to an amazing assortment of creatures. Nature's land became our land-we subsumed nature for our own purposes. Our growing population and its agricultural heritage take up the space and resources once occupied by a richer diversity of life-a greater biodiversity. The consequent demise of this biodiversity through extinctions great and small is a problem, and a big one at that.
Before we worry too much about this problem of extinction, we need to verify that it is indeed true that something is awry in the living world. Legions of scientists are out there talking about a biodiversity "crisis" and a mass extinction today on par with those of the past that decimated, for example, most dinosaur populations. Does human population growth, as well as the actions of people in general, really lead to biodiversity loss? Are human beings taking too large a share of earth's resources under the "great restrictive law" of nature? Will this place our planet's health in jeopardy? It is our nature, and indeed our duty, to question the scientific basis of the alleged crisis, for our conclusions will shape the policies and actions that we must pursue in the future.