"If
we’re not willing to do that to save ourselves, we’re not going
to do it for the beetles, mosquitoes, moths, or anything that feeds
on them. Not even for the bees."
In the early 1900s, Iowa’s prairies were home to three hundred of species of plants, another 300 species of birds, tens of species of mammals, and uncounted hundreds upon hundreds of insect species. Fast forward to late summer 2012, when the air should have been buzzing with bugs, and you’d find rather few. One survey of an Iowan cornfield turned up exactly six creatures we might call bugs. (Not simply six species – six individual bugs.) Two grasshoppers, an ant, a red mite, and a cobweb spider eating a crane fly. Otherwise, silence.
People
Finally Noticing Insect Collapse
9
November, 2017
There’s
been anecdotal evidence creeping up on us for several years
now. Drives
out in the country or long freeway trips no longer covered the car
with smashed insect guts. No more moths in the headlight beams. Of
course, you have to be “of a certain age” to remember a time
before the New Normal. Otherwise, the insect collapse would be
invisible. If you never knew the experience of having to wash your
windshield to get the bugs off every time you stopped for gas, you
could be excused for not missing them. Even the gas stations, more
often than not, seem to have empty reservoirs and missing squeegees
these days.
As
the bugs have disappeared, they have been replaced, ever so slightly,
with calls of alarm. Rachel Carson’s book Silent Spring, published
in 1962, inspired the modern environmental movement and eventually
resulted in a phase-out the use of DDT as a mosquito insecticide. It
wasn’t quite enough. Some
folks remember the bugs declining as far back as the 1970s,
but it really ramped up in the last couple decades. Timelines vary
around the world. Insect traps set up in southern England didn’t
register a serious insect collapse until
about 2002,
but in southern Scotland, insect counts declined by two-thirds in the
thirty years before those in England.
In
the early 1900s, Iowa’s prairies were home to three hundred of
species of plants, another 300 species of birds, tens of species of
mammals, and uncounted hundreds upon hundreds of insect species. Fast
forward to late summer 2012, when the air should have been buzzing
with bugs, and you’d find rather few. One
survey of an Iowan cornfield turned up exactly six creatures we might
call bugs. (Not
simply six species – six individual bugs.) Two grasshoppers, an
ant, a red mite, and a cobweb spider eating a crane fly. Otherwise,
silence.
Finally,
however, the insect collapse is garnering some media attention.
A well-documented German
study, recently
released in the journal PLOS One,
revealed something more valuable than anecdotal evidence or informal
surveys: actual numbers over time. In the last 27 years, the flying
insect biomass measured in protected German nature reserves declined
an average of 76%, with an 82% drop during the midsummer season, when
insect populations should be thriving. Another study found that
Germany experienced a 15% drop in its bird population over the last
decade. Clearly, an insect collapse also affects the birds who feed
on them.
New Evidence Confirms a 76 Percent Decline in Insects, posted by United News International
Other
studies around the world have produced similar findings. Scientists
from Munich and Frankfort found that some moth and butterfly species
fell from 117 in 1840 to 71 in 2013. A 2014 study found that
invertebrate populations were in decline worldwide. Most folks are
aware of the trouble faced by bee colonies; bees and butterflies are
charismatic and beloved enough to garner public awareness.
However,
does any of this matter? Can’t we just get by with a handful of
major edible species (cows, chickens, pigs, corn, wheat, potatoes,
and some tomatoes for ketchup)? Do we even need bugs anyway?
Actually,
we do. Not only do insects
form the base of the food chain for
larger, cuter wildlife, they also pollinate plants that feed us, help
digest waste matter and turn it back into soil, and perform numerous
other ecosystem services. Plunging populations of insect predators
mean that isolated outbreaks of destructive insects will be harder to
control. An insect collapse is also the canary in our coal mine –
an indicator that sooner or later, we’re in for trouble of our own.
Further, and this may be the hardest to accept, not everything in
nature is about us.
So
what can we do about this? One action people can take on their
own is to create more insect habitat in their own backyards. The
National Wildlife Federation developed a program to help people
support insects and wildlife by planting more nectar-bearing flowers,
creating shelter, and providing water.
Another
option is to buy
pastured beef instead
of meat from CAFOs.
Pollinating insects, including bees, can thrive in pastures grazed by
cattle. These rangelands provide hollow-stemmed grasses for insects
to nest in, successively blooming flowers for them to sip from, and
undisturbed places to hang out, while helping
build soil, sequester carbon, and creating habitat for birds.
Taking the cattle out of the pasture and turning it into a cornfield
doesn’t help.
Most
of all, though, this is a giant problem and likely requires systemic
solutions. Climate change and industrial agriculture doubtlessly play
a part, but the reasons for the insect collapse aren’t
entirely known.
However, if modern life and industrial culture are the reasons for
the decline, it would take a massive overhaul of life as we know it
to bring the bugs back. And if we’re not
willing to do that to save ourselves,
we’re not going to do it for the beetles, mosquitoes, moths, or
anything that feeds on them. Not even for the bees.
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