harsh desert sites. Recognition of the need forecosystem restoration is growing in arid lands. Increasing use of deserts has resulted in plant and soil degradation which can be reversed by reestablishing native plants. Without intervention, desert areas disturbed by human activities such as offroad vehicle recreation and mining may take decades or centuries to recover (Bainbridge and Virginia, 1990). Conditions favorable for seed germination and seedling establishment are infrequent and unpredictable in the desert, making direct seeding an ineffective restoration strategy (Cox et al., 1982; Barbour, 1968). Fortunately, many desert shrubs are easy to grow in a nursery and respond well to transplanting. But in harsh desert climates, intense solar radiation, high temperatures, high winds, low rainfall, low soil fertility, and intense herbivore pressure can limit transplant success unless plants are prepared carefully and protected after planting. Our research in the Mojave and Sonoran Deserts of California has identified nursery production techniques and seedling protection methods that improve survival. In this article we provide an overview of successful desert revegetation practice~, which should also prove useful to many workers in less severe environments. It begins with a review of containers and soil mixes for transplant preparation, followed by a discussion of strategies for protecting transplants from environmental stress. Container Types and Soil Mixes One of the most important choices in developing a planting program on an arid site is understanding the bureaucratic, biological, and physical constraints on the restoration project and, with these in mind, choosing containers that can deliver survivors in the field at minimum cost. This overview reflects almost ten years of experience in this area, and concludes with some general recommendations for restorationists working in arid environments.
恶劣的沙漠地点。在干旱地区，人们越来越认识到恢复森林系统的必要性。越来越多地利用沙漠造成了植物和土壤退化，这种退化可以通过重建本地植物来扭转。如果不进行干预，受人类活动(如越野车娱乐和采矿)干扰的沙漠地区可能需要数十年或数百年才能恢复(Bainbridge和Virginia, 1990)。在沙漠中，有利于种子萌发和幼苗建立的条件很少且不可预测，因此直接播种是一种无效的恢复策略(Cox et al.， 1982;巴伯,1968)。幸运的是，许多沙漠灌木很容易在苗圃中生长，并且对移植反应良好。但是在恶劣的沙漠气候中，强烈的太阳辐射、高温、大风、低降雨量、低土壤肥力和强烈的食草动物压力会限制移植的成功，除非植物在种植后精心准备和保护。我们在加州莫哈韦和索诺兰沙漠的研究已经确定了苗圃生产技术和幼苗保护方法，提高了存活率。在这篇文章中，我们提供了一个成功的沙漠植被恢复实践的概述~，这也应该证明对许多工人在较恶劣的环境中有用。它首先回顾了移植准备的容器和土壤混合物，然后讨论了保护移植物免受环境压力的策略。在干旱地区制定种植计划时，最重要的选择之一是了解恢复项目的官僚主义、生物和物理限制，并考虑到这些因素，选择能够以最低成本运送幸存者的容器。这篇综述反映了在这一领域近十年的经验，并总结了一些在干旱环境中工作的修复学家的一般建议。
{"title":"Techniques for Plant Establishment in Arid Ecosystems","authors":"D. Bainbridge, M. Fidelibus, R. MacAller","doi":"10.3368/er.13.2.190","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.3368/er.13.2.190","url":null,"abstract":"harsh desert sites. Recognition of the need forecosystem restoration is growing in arid lands. Increasing use of deserts has resulted in plant and soil degradation which can be reversed by reestablishing native plants. Without intervention, desert areas disturbed by human activities such as offroad vehicle recreation and mining may take decades or centuries to recover (Bainbridge and Virginia, 1990). Conditions favorable for seed germination and seedling establishment are infrequent and unpredictable in the desert, making direct seeding an ineffective restoration strategy (Cox et al., 1982; Barbour, 1968). Fortunately, many desert shrubs are easy to grow in a nursery and respond well to transplanting. But in harsh desert climates, intense solar radiation, high temperatures, high winds, low rainfall, low soil fertility, and intense herbivore pressure can limit transplant success unless plants are prepared carefully and protected after planting. Our research in the Mojave and Sonoran Deserts of California has identified nursery production techniques and seedling protection methods that improve survival. In this article we provide an overview of successful desert revegetation practice~, which should also prove useful to many workers in less severe environments. It begins with a review of containers and soil mixes for transplant preparation, followed by a discussion of strategies for protecting transplants from environmental stress. Container Types and Soil Mixes One of the most important choices in developing a planting program on an arid site is understanding the bureaucratic, biological, and physical constraints on the restoration project and, with these in mind, choosing containers that can deliver survivors in the field at minimum cost. This overview reflects almost ten years of experience in this area, and concludes with some general recommendations for restorationists working in arid environments.","PeriodicalId":105419,"journal":{"name":"Restoration & Management Notes","volume":"23 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"1995-12-21","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"121633979","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
dikes. I t is not often that a project allows a company to experiment with innovative restoration techniques. Our firm, Biohabitats Inc., was fortunate enough to have such a chance on the Kenilworth Marsh, a 28-hectare (70-acre) freshwater tidal marsh along the borders of the Anacostia River near the National Arboretum in the District of Columbia. Part of the National Park System, the Kenilworth Marsh is adjacent to the Kenilworth Aquatic Gardens. In 1989, a coalition of federal and local agencies, led by the Washington Metropolitan Council of Governments (COG) chose the marsh for restoration as part of a long-term plan to restore water quality and habitat within the Anacostia River watershed. In 1989, COG retained Biohabitats, Inc. to perform the following activities: cbnduct a historical study of the marsh spanning the past 100 years; assess current conditions; and develop a plan to restore mid-marsh vegetation over 30 to 50 percent of the existing mudflats, an area totaling 12 hectares (30 acres). Preliminary research revealed that, at one time, portions of the Anacostia floodplain supported broad tidal marshes with emergent vegetation dominated by wild rice (Zizania aquatica) and other freshwater tidal marsh species typical of that area. Civil engineering operations, begun around the turn of the century and continuing for nearly 50 years, gradually reduced the floodplain wetlands to only a few severely degraded and highly altered patches, of which Kenilworth was one. In the area of Kenilworth Marsh, historic documents and a rare early aerial photograph revealed that emergent tidal wetlands, interspersed with wooded islands, had occupied the site as recently as 1927. These wetlands were dredged prior to 1948 to create a tidal lagoon connected to the Anacostia River. At about the same time, the river was dredged and lined with seawalls to control flooding and provide navigable water. During the past 40 years, spoils from the river dredging were put into the tidal lagoon, filling in open water habitat and smothering native riparian vegetation. Today the marsh consists mostly of open water habitat covered with water at high tide and exposed as mudflat at low tide. We found that the dredging and placement of spoils had steepened the grade in many areas, leaving the site with only two of the three vegetative zones typically found in freshwater tidal marshes along the Anacostia River. While the marsh provided high marsh and low marsh habitat, tidal wetland vegetation covered less than ten percent of the mid-marsh area. We learned that the elevation of the marsh substrate had stabilized at approximately 0.3 m (1 ft) above mean sea level (MSL). Comparing this elevation with the elevations of existing stands of low, mid, and high marsh vegetation, we found that the extensive mudflats were too low to support mid-marsh vegetation. We concluded that this was the primary factor limiting colonization by emergent midmarsh vegetation. This, then, became the b
堤防。一个项目不经常允许公司尝试创新的修复技术。我们的公司Biohabitats Inc.很幸运地在凯尼尔沃斯沼泽(Kenilworth Marsh)获得了这样的机会。凯尼尔沃斯沼泽是一片28公顷(70英亩)的淡水潮汐沼泽，位于哥伦比亚特区国家植物园附近的阿纳科斯蒂亚河(Anacostia River)沿岸。凯尼尔沃斯沼泽是国家公园系统的一部分，毗邻凯尼尔沃斯水上花园。1989年，由华盛顿市政府(Washington Metropolitan Council of government, COG)领导的一个联邦和地方机构联盟选择恢复这片沼泽，作为恢复阿纳科斯蒂亚河流域水质和栖息地的长期计划的一部分。1989年，COG委托Biohabitats, Inc.开展以下活动:对过去100年的沼泽进行历史研究;评估当前状况;制定一项计划，恢复现有泥滩30%至50%的沼泽中部植被，总面积为12公顷(30英亩)。初步研究表明，Anacostia河漫滩的部分地区一度支持着广阔的潮汐沼泽，其中以野生稻(Zizania aquatica)和该地区典型的其他淡水潮汐沼泽物种为主的新兴植被。土木工程始于世纪之交，持续了近50年，逐渐将洪泛区湿地减少到只有几个严重退化和高度改变的斑块，凯尼尔沃思就是其中之一。在凯尼尔沃斯沼泽地区，历史文献和一张罕见的早期航拍照片显示，直到1927年，这里才出现了潮汐湿地，点缀着树木繁茂的岛屿。这些湿地在1948年之前被疏浚，以建立一个与阿纳科斯蒂亚河相连的潮汐泻湖。大约在同一时间，这条河被疏浚，并建立了海堤，以控制洪水并提供通航水。在过去的40年里，河道疏浚的废物被放入潮汐泻湖，填满了开阔的水域栖息地，窒息了当地的河岸植被。今天，沼泽主要由开放的水域生境组成，在涨潮时被水覆盖，在退潮时暴露为泥滩。我们发现，疏浚和垃圾的放置使许多地区的坡度变陡，使得该地区只有两个植被区，而在阿纳科斯蒂亚河沿岸的淡水潮汐沼泽中，通常有三个植被区。沼泽提供了高沼泽和低沼泽生境，潮汐湿地植被覆盖了不到10%的中沼泽面积。我们了解到，沼泽底物的高度稳定在平均海平面(MSL)以上约0.3米(1英尺)。将该海拔高度与现有低、中、高沼泽植被林分的海拔高度进行比较，发现大面积泥滩的海拔高度过低，无法支撑中沼泽植被。我们得出结论，这是限制新兴沼泽植被定植的主要因素。然后，这成为我们恢复计划的基础，该计划要求填满大约13公顷(32.5英亩)的沼泽，以达到建立新兴植被的适当高度。1990年，我们设计了一个小规模的
{"title":"Innovations in Tidal Marsh Restoration","authors":"J. Bowers","doi":"10.3368/er.13.2.155","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.3368/er.13.2.155","url":null,"abstract":"dikes. I t is not often that a project allows a company to experiment with innovative restoration techniques. Our firm, Biohabitats Inc., was fortunate enough to have such a chance on the Kenilworth Marsh, a 28-hectare (70-acre) freshwater tidal marsh along the borders of the Anacostia River near the National Arboretum in the District of Columbia. Part of the National Park System, the Kenilworth Marsh is adjacent to the Kenilworth Aquatic Gardens. In 1989, a coalition of federal and local agencies, led by the Washington Metropolitan Council of Governments (COG) chose the marsh for restoration as part of a long-term plan to restore water quality and habitat within the Anacostia River watershed. In 1989, COG retained Biohabitats, Inc. to perform the following activities: cbnduct a historical study of the marsh spanning the past 100 years; assess current conditions; and develop a plan to restore mid-marsh vegetation over 30 to 50 percent of the existing mudflats, an area totaling 12 hectares (30 acres). Preliminary research revealed that, at one time, portions of the Anacostia floodplain supported broad tidal marshes with emergent vegetation dominated by wild rice (Zizania aquatica) and other freshwater tidal marsh species typical of that area. Civil engineering operations, begun around the turn of the century and continuing for nearly 50 years, gradually reduced the floodplain wetlands to only a few severely degraded and highly altered patches, of which Kenilworth was one. In the area of Kenilworth Marsh, historic documents and a rare early aerial photograph revealed that emergent tidal wetlands, interspersed with wooded islands, had occupied the site as recently as 1927. These wetlands were dredged prior to 1948 to create a tidal lagoon connected to the Anacostia River. At about the same time, the river was dredged and lined with seawalls to control flooding and provide navigable water. During the past 40 years, spoils from the river dredging were put into the tidal lagoon, filling in open water habitat and smothering native riparian vegetation. Today the marsh consists mostly of open water habitat covered with water at high tide and exposed as mudflat at low tide. We found that the dredging and placement of spoils had steepened the grade in many areas, leaving the site with only two of the three vegetative zones typically found in freshwater tidal marshes along the Anacostia River. While the marsh provided high marsh and low marsh habitat, tidal wetland vegetation covered less than ten percent of the mid-marsh area. We learned that the elevation of the marsh substrate had stabilized at approximately 0.3 m (1 ft) above mean sea level (MSL). Comparing this elevation with the elevations of existing stands of low, mid, and high marsh vegetation, we found that the extensive mudflats were too low to support mid-marsh vegetation. We concluded that this was the primary factor limiting colonization by emergent midmarsh vegetation. This, then, became the b","PeriodicalId":105419,"journal":{"name":"Restoration & Management Notes","volume":"6 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"1995-12-21","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"128526563","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
vast areas, Sometimes it seems we are bound to repeat history even when we are well aware of it. Such has been the history of conservation in America. Even after more than a century of documented experience, we continue to lose many of our native species, communities, and ecosystems. The collapse of native salmon stocks in the Pacific Northwest is one of the most recent examples. Despite the well-publicized loss of Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar) from most of New England in the nineteenth century, many populations of Pacific salmon (Oncorhynchus spp.) today face extinction for most of the same reasons. Now, even as the Northwest begins the enormous task of restoration, we are also reminded that repeated efforts to recover Atlantic salmon have met with little success. For all these reasons, the task of Northwestern restorationists is more than just the recovery of salmon. It is a fundamental reshaping of the traditional tenets of resource conservation. When several hundred natural resource professionals met last fall in Eugene, Oregon to discuss the latest ideas about restoring Pacific salmon, I could not help but recall accounts I had read of similar meetings more than a century ago. On June 13, 1872, state fish commissioners and fish culturists gathered in Boston to discuss plans for a new federal hatchery program to restock the depleted waters of New England and to introduce the most popular fish species across America (United States Commission of Fish and Fisheries, 1874). Then, as now, salmon was the focus of attention. Then, as now, salmon depletion was attributed to these causes: dams, water pollution, overfishing, and degradation of stream habitat resulting from the clearing of forests and the cultivation of agricultural lands (Marsh, 1857). Of course, in the 1870s the possibilities of a newly developed hatchery technology seemed limitless; the genetic and ecological risks of releasing large numbers of hatchery fish were simply unknown, and in any case, surely would have been unpersuasive in the giddy atmosphere of America’s gilded age. What now seems sadly ironic--that many once viewed the Pacific coast as a vast storehouse to replenish exhausted supplies of Atlantic salmon--then seemed only logical. Fish culturist Livingston Stone, who in 1872 established the U.S. Fish Commission’s first Pacific salmon hatchery on California’s McCloud River, typified the notion that restoration of Atlantic salmon was a simple economy of scale:
{"title":"Restoring Salmon Ecosystems","authors":"D. Bottom","doi":"10.3368/er.13.2.162","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.3368/er.13.2.162","url":null,"abstract":"vast areas, Sometimes it seems we are bound to repeat history even when we are well aware of it. Such has been the history of conservation in America. Even after more than a century of documented experience, we continue to lose many of our native species, communities, and ecosystems. The collapse of native salmon stocks in the Pacific Northwest is one of the most recent examples. Despite the well-publicized loss of Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar) from most of New England in the nineteenth century, many populations of Pacific salmon (Oncorhynchus spp.) today face extinction for most of the same reasons. Now, even as the Northwest begins the enormous task of restoration, we are also reminded that repeated efforts to recover Atlantic salmon have met with little success. For all these reasons, the task of Northwestern restorationists is more than just the recovery of salmon. It is a fundamental reshaping of the traditional tenets of resource conservation. When several hundred natural resource professionals met last fall in Eugene, Oregon to discuss the latest ideas about restoring Pacific salmon, I could not help but recall accounts I had read of similar meetings more than a century ago. On June 13, 1872, state fish commissioners and fish culturists gathered in Boston to discuss plans for a new federal hatchery program to restock the depleted waters of New England and to introduce the most popular fish species across America (United States Commission of Fish and Fisheries, 1874). Then, as now, salmon was the focus of attention. Then, as now, salmon depletion was attributed to these causes: dams, water pollution, overfishing, and degradation of stream habitat resulting from the clearing of forests and the cultivation of agricultural lands (Marsh, 1857). Of course, in the 1870s the possibilities of a newly developed hatchery technology seemed limitless; the genetic and ecological risks of releasing large numbers of hatchery fish were simply unknown, and in any case, surely would have been unpersuasive in the giddy atmosphere of America’s gilded age. What now seems sadly ironic--that many once viewed the Pacific coast as a vast storehouse to replenish exhausted supplies of Atlantic salmon--then seemed only logical. Fish culturist Livingston Stone, who in 1872 established the U.S. Fish Commission’s first Pacific salmon hatchery on California’s McCloud River, typified the notion that restoration of Atlantic salmon was a simple economy of scale:","PeriodicalId":105419,"journal":{"name":"Restoration & Management Notes","volume":"42 6 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"1995-12-21","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"132866896","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
A readers of R&MN are aware, "restoration" is only one of a family of words used to refer to--what can we call it?curatorial land management. Others include a cluster of words beginning with "re"--terms like rehabilitation, reclamation, revegetation, re-creation, and so forth, all of which convey some aspect of the basic idea of getting back to something that we find in the word restoration itself. They are the immediate relatives of restoration, its nuclear family. Beyond this there are more general words such as stewardship, preservation, and of course management, which is included in the title of this journal as a sort of hedge or conceptual buffer zone between hard-core restoration and the larger community of related conservation concepts. Each of these words has a slightly different meaning. Each has its own nuances of definition and connotation, and suggests a different approach to land management and a different perspective on it. Each has value. Yet for a long time I have felt that the word "restoration" has a special value that sets it apart from the rest. In fact, it seems to me it is in many ways the best available term under which to think about and carry out conservative land management, the keystone word that best describes what the natural area manager, the steward, and even the preservationist are really up to. Almost--if not quite the perfect word for this work. I say this for two reasons. The first is that the word restoration conveys the clearest commitment to a specific result. A softer-edged word like management, for example, conveys only a promise to manipulate the system. Preservation, strictly speaking, means leaving it alone. (Of course in practice preservation usually involves some management--but then it is restoration.) Neither conveys a clear commitment to any specific result. And all the other "re" words are vague on this point as well--"reclamation" so much so that it can refer either to the repair of a degraded ecosystem or to its destruction, as in the phrase "to reclaim the desert." Restoration, on the other hand, is explicit about objectives: it promises to return the system or landscape to some specified previous condition (dynamically conceived, of course), or to the condition of an existing model system. As restorationists know better than anyone, this is in many ways a risky promise. The goal of restoration is often difficult to efine, and commonly unattainable. No doubt this is one reason why environmentalists have been wary of restoration, and why r storation has been so prone to criticism: it alone promises a specific result, and so can be held to have failed when it fails to achieve it. Yet the restorationist at [east promises to try, and in the long run that is our best chance of actually ensuring the existence of classic and historic ecosystems. The second reason for the special value of restoration as a rubric for the practice of natural area conservation is that, precisely because it makes so clear a
{"title":"“Restoration” (The Word)","authors":"W. Jordan","doi":"10.3368/ER.13.2.151","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.3368/ER.13.2.151","url":null,"abstract":"A readers of R&MN are aware, \"restoration\" is only one of a family of words used to refer to--what can we call it?curatorial land management. Others include a cluster of words beginning with \"re\"--terms like rehabilitation, reclamation, revegetation, re-creation, and so forth, all of which convey some aspect of the basic idea of getting back to something that we find in the word restoration itself. They are the immediate relatives of restoration, its nuclear family. Beyond this there are more general words such as stewardship, preservation, and of course management, which is included in the title of this journal as a sort of hedge or conceptual buffer zone between hard-core restoration and the larger community of related conservation concepts. Each of these words has a slightly different meaning. Each has its own nuances of definition and connotation, and suggests a different approach to land management and a different perspective on it. Each has value. Yet for a long time I have felt that the word \"restoration\" has a special value that sets it apart from the rest. In fact, it seems to me it is in many ways the best available term under which to think about and carry out conservative land management, the keystone word that best describes what the natural area manager, the steward, and even the preservationist are really up to. Almost--if not quite the perfect word for this work. I say this for two reasons. The first is that the word restoration conveys the clearest commitment to a specific result. A softer-edged word like management, for example, conveys only a promise to manipulate the system. Preservation, strictly speaking, means leaving it alone. (Of course in practice preservation usually involves some management--but then it is restoration.) Neither conveys a clear commitment to any specific result. And all the other \"re\" words are vague on this point as well--\"reclamation\" so much so that it can refer either to the repair of a degraded ecosystem or to its destruction, as in the phrase \"to reclaim the desert.\" Restoration, on the other hand, is explicit about objectives: it promises to return the system or landscape to some specified previous condition (dynamically conceived, of course), or to the condition of an existing model system. As restorationists know better than anyone, this is in many ways a risky promise. The goal of restoration is often difficult to efine, and commonly unattainable. No doubt this is one reason why environmentalists have been wary of restoration, and why r storation has been so prone to criticism: it alone promises a specific result, and so can be held to have failed when it fails to achieve it. Yet the restorationist at [east promises to try, and in the long run that is our best chance of actually ensuring the existence of classic and historic ecosystems. The second reason for the special value of restoration as a rubric for the practice of natural area conservation is that, precisely because it makes so clear a","PeriodicalId":105419,"journal":{"name":"Restoration & Management Notes","volume":"14 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"1995-12-21","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"131987593","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Process. Wetland Journal 5(1):8-9.) has taken exception to use of reference wetlands. He argues that such an approach disregards the fact that each wetland is a dynamic, ever-changing system, and that no two are exactly alike. Instead, he prefers to compare the wetland as it ~vas designed to its condition after it has been constructed. While the authors acknowledge and recommend this "as-built" approach for at least one level of monitoring, they feel that by utilizing populations of both "new" and existing wetlands they have solved the problem of comparing two unique entities. Unfortunately, they fail to include case studies that might shed greater light on their methodology. In addition, the reader is left to wonder whether their relatively small study of newly restored and/or created freshwater ponds with only fringes of emergent marsh on which this protocol is based provides an adequate basis for evaluation of all types of wetlands. Is this a bureaucratic solution or a scientific one? Undoubtedly, this book will inspire discussion as to the best means to monitor and learn from wetland mitigation projects. Less controversial but still interesting are some short but informative chapters on recruiting and training volunteers as wetland monitors, employing graphics to display data, and using information about local natural wetlands to improve wetland project designs.
{"title":"ENDANGERED SPECIES","authors":"Bremer Gm","doi":"10.3368/er.11.1.79","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.3368/er.11.1.79","url":null,"abstract":"Process. Wetland Journal 5(1):8-9.) has taken exception to use of reference wetlands. He argues that such an approach disregards the fact that each wetland is a dynamic, ever-changing system, and that no two are exactly alike. Instead, he prefers to compare the wetland as it ~vas designed to its condition after it has been constructed. While the authors acknowledge and recommend this \"as-built\" approach for at least one level of monitoring, they feel that by utilizing populations of both \"new\" and existing wetlands they have solved the problem of comparing two unique entities. Unfortunately, they fail to include case studies that might shed greater light on their methodology. In addition, the reader is left to wonder whether their relatively small study of newly restored and/or created freshwater ponds with only fringes of emergent marsh on which this protocol is based provides an adequate basis for evaluation of all types of wetlands. Is this a bureaucratic solution or a scientific one? Undoubtedly, this book will inspire discussion as to the best means to monitor and learn from wetland mitigation projects. Less controversial but still interesting are some short but informative chapters on recruiting and training volunteers as wetland monitors, employing graphics to display data, and using information about local natural wetlands to improve wetland project designs.","PeriodicalId":105419,"journal":{"name":"Restoration & Management Notes","volume":"11 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"1995-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"130746638","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
J. Kauffman, R. L. Case, Danna Lytjen, Nick Otting, D. Cummings
of recovery. The degradation of riparianecosystems associated with the upper Snake river tributaries of Oregon and Idaho has contributed significantly to the precipitous declines of resident and anadromous salmonids. Given the economic, ecologic, and cultural importance of trout and salmon in the Pacific Northwest, the recovery of these ecosystems through restoration at landscape scales is necessary. Riparian zones are areas of the highest species diversity in the montane landscape of northeast Oregon. This high biotic diversity is related to high frequencies of natural disturbances such as floods, ice floes, and fire. The variable severity and frequency of fluvial disturbances results in a diverse mosaic of soil types, and in plant communities of varying composition and successional status. Riparian vegetation must be adapted to establish, survive, and successfully reproduce in these frequently disturbed areas. An understanding of the inherent resilience of riparian vegetation to disturbances is important in the restoration of these ecosystems.
{"title":"Ecological Approaches to Riparian Restoration in Northeast Oregon","authors":"J. Kauffman, R. L. Case, Danna Lytjen, Nick Otting, D. Cummings","doi":"10.3368/er.13.1.12","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.3368/er.13.1.12","url":null,"abstract":"of recovery. The degradation of riparianecosystems associated with the upper Snake river tributaries of Oregon and Idaho has contributed significantly to the precipitous declines of resident and anadromous salmonids. Given the economic, ecologic, and cultural importance of trout and salmon in the Pacific Northwest, the recovery of these ecosystems through restoration at landscape scales is necessary. Riparian zones are areas of the highest species diversity in the montane landscape of northeast Oregon. This high biotic diversity is related to high frequencies of natural disturbances such as floods, ice floes, and fire. The variable severity and frequency of fluvial disturbances results in a diverse mosaic of soil types, and in plant communities of varying composition and successional status. Riparian vegetation must be adapted to establish, survive, and successfully reproduce in these frequently disturbed areas. An understanding of the inherent resilience of riparian vegetation to disturbances is important in the restoration of these ecosystems.","PeriodicalId":105419,"journal":{"name":"Restoration & Management Notes","volume":"375 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"1995-06-20","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"123407114","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
communities. I have asked my Uncle Hans about Chicago River. He told me that he has not thought about the river that much. He lived in Chicago since 1950. He thought that river was cleaner in the past. He told me that the Chicago River didn’t smell as it does now. He thought that the river use to be a place where people dumped garbage and things they don’t want to keep. Chicago River was a dump place for many years and it is used now for every reason. He told me that Chicago River had to be sacrificed to save Lake Michigan. He thinks that we had made right decision and that the lake is more important than the Chicago River. But we must do some things to improve the river and surrounding areas. We also must protect wild life around it.
{"title":"A Combination in Behalf of Restoration","authors":"Moira Mcdonald","doi":"10.3368/er.13.1.98","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.3368/er.13.1.98","url":null,"abstract":"communities. I have asked my Uncle Hans about Chicago River. He told me that he has not thought about the river that much. He lived in Chicago since 1950. He thought that river was cleaner in the past. He told me that the Chicago River didn’t smell as it does now. He thought that the river use to be a place where people dumped garbage and things they don’t want to keep. Chicago River was a dump place for many years and it is used now for every reason. He told me that Chicago River had to be sacrificed to save Lake Michigan. He thinks that we had made right decision and that the lake is more important than the Chicago River. But we must do some things to improve the river and surrounding areas. We also must protect wild life around it.","PeriodicalId":105419,"journal":{"name":"Restoration & Management Notes","volume":"os-20 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"1995-06-20","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"127765911","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
surface-mined sites. A beautyberry (Callicarpa americana) is a hardy, drought-tolerant shrub native to the southeastern United States from southern Maryland west to Tennessee and Oklahoma, south to Texas, Mexico, Florida, and the West Indies (Dirr, 1990; Foote and Jones, 1989; Radford et al., 1968). It is most common in the sandy lowlands of the southeastern Coastal Plain (Radford et al., 1968). In Florida and.adjacent states it is a "characterizing" shrub of the upland hardwood hammock plant association that is common over large areas of north and central Florida, southern Alabama and Georgia, and coastal areas of the Carolinas. ("Characterizing," according to the Soil Conservation Service, means that "this species so commonly occurs in a community that you would expect to see it there at most locations supporting that community" (Soil Conservation Service, 1989).) The upland hardwood hammock is a climax community with high species-diversity where few pines occur and hardwood trees dominate (Gano, 1917; Soil Conservation Service, 1989). Two associations at the Savannah River Site in South Carolina where our project was conducted are upland hardwood hammocks--the white oak-dogwood-pipsissewa and the white oak-post oak forest communities (Jones et al., 1981). Beautyberry also grows in the longleafpine/turkey-oak sand-hill association, in mixed hardwood and pine forests, in south Florida flatwoods, in cabbage palm flatwoods, and in wetland hardwood hammock plant communities in Florida and adjacent states (Soil Conservation Service, 1989). These diverse forest types provide a wide variety of feeding, nesting, and escape habitats for several animal species (Gilbert and Stout, 1983). In natural landscapes, beautyberry is usually found at the edges of woods (Brown & Tighe, 1991) and in forest openings resuiting from tree-fall and other natural disturbances. Beautyberry is also a common component of managed landscapeg such as hedgerows and roadsides (Martin et al., 1951). Beautyberry is in the Verbenaceae, the Verbena family, to which lantana (Lantana camara) and golden dewdrol5 (Durantarepens) also belong (Zona, 1994). American beautyberry is one of about 140 species of Callicarpa native to the tropics and mild-temperate zones of both the eastern and the western hemispheres (Zona, 1994). A number of observations and studies indicate that beautyberry has considerable value for wildlife. Beautyberry twigs and foliage are a minor component of the diet of white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus) (Martin et al., 1951; Stribling, 1988). The fruit, a small, bright-violet, fleshy drupe (Radford et al., 1968), is a favored food of the robin (Turdus migratorius ) , mockingbird ( Mimus polyglottos ) , catbird (Dumatella carolinensis), brown thrasher ( Toxostoma rufum ) (Martin et al., 1951), and wild turkey (Meleagris gallo. pavo) (Kennamer et al., 1980), and is a mi-
surface-mined网站。美莓(calicarpa americana)是一种耐寒、耐旱的灌木，原产于美国东南部，从马里兰州南部到田纳西州和俄克拉何马州，南至德克萨斯州、墨西哥、佛罗里达州和西印度群岛(Dirr, 1990;富特和琼斯，1989;Radford et al.， 1968)。它最常见于东南沿海平原的沙质低地(Radford et al.， 1968)。在佛罗里达和。它是一种高地硬木吊床植物协会的“特征”灌木，在佛罗里达州北部和中部、阿拉巴马州南部和佐治亚州以及卡罗莱纳州沿海地区的大片地区都很常见。(根据土壤保持局的说法，“特征化”意味着“该物种在一个群落中如此普遍地出现，以至于你会期望在支持该群落的大多数地点看到它”(土壤保持局，1989)。)山地硬木吊床是一个物种多样性高的顶极群落，松树很少，硬木为主(Gano, 1917;土壤保持处，1989)。我们的项目是在南卡罗来纳州萨凡纳河遗址进行的，两个协会是高地硬木吊床——白橡树-茱萸-pipsissewa和白橡树-柱橡树森林社区(Jones et al.， 1981)。美莓也生长在长叶松/火鸡橡树的沙丘丛中，在混合硬木和松林中，在南佛罗里达的平原林中，在卷心菜棕榈平原林中，在佛罗里达州和邻近州的湿地硬木吊床植物群落中(土壤保持局，1989年)。这些不同的森林类型为一些动物物种提供了各种各样的觅食、筑巢和逃生栖息地(Gilbert和Stout, 1983)。在自然景观中，美莓通常生长在树林的边缘(Brown & Tighe, 1991)以及由于树木倒下和其他自然干扰而形成的森林开口中。美丽的浆果也是一个常见的组成部分管理景观，如树篱和路边(马丁等人，1951)。美莓属马鞭草科，马鞭草科，马鞭草属(lantana camara)和金露珠(Durantarepens)也属于该科(Zona, 1994)。美洲美莓是大约140种原产于东半球和西半球热带和温和温带的美莓属植物之一(Zona, 1994)。许多观察和研究表明，美莓对野生动物具有相当大的价值。白尾鹿(Odocoileus virginianus)的饮食中，美莓树枝和叶子只占很小的一部分(Martin et al.， 1951;Stribling, 1988)。这种果实是一种小的、亮紫色的肉质核果(Radford et al.， 1968)，是知更鸟(Turdus migratorius)、反舌鸟(Mimus polyglottos)、猫鸟(Dumatella carolinensis)、棕脱毛鸟(Toxostoma rufum) (Martin et al.， 1951)和野生火鸡(Meleagris gallo)最喜欢的食物。pavo) (Kennamer et al.， 1980)，并且是一个mi-
{"title":"American Beautyberry for Borrow Pit Reclamation in South Carolina","authors":"H. Martín, G. Sick","doi":"10.3368/er.13.1.90","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.3368/er.13.1.90","url":null,"abstract":"surface-mined sites. A beautyberry (Callicarpa americana) is a hardy, drought-tolerant shrub native to the southeastern United States from southern Maryland west to Tennessee and Oklahoma, south to Texas, Mexico, Florida, and the West Indies (Dirr, 1990; Foote and Jones, 1989; Radford et al., 1968). It is most common in the sandy lowlands of the southeastern Coastal Plain (Radford et al., 1968). In Florida and.adjacent states it is a \"characterizing\" shrub of the upland hardwood hammock plant association that is common over large areas of north and central Florida, southern Alabama and Georgia, and coastal areas of the Carolinas. (\"Characterizing,\" according to the Soil Conservation Service, means that \"this species so commonly occurs in a community that you would expect to see it there at most locations supporting that community\" (Soil Conservation Service, 1989).) The upland hardwood hammock is a climax community with high species-diversity where few pines occur and hardwood trees dominate (Gano, 1917; Soil Conservation Service, 1989). Two associations at the Savannah River Site in South Carolina where our project was conducted are upland hardwood hammocks--the white oak-dogwood-pipsissewa and the white oak-post oak forest communities (Jones et al., 1981). Beautyberry also grows in the longleafpine/turkey-oak sand-hill association, in mixed hardwood and pine forests, in south Florida flatwoods, in cabbage palm flatwoods, and in wetland hardwood hammock plant communities in Florida and adjacent states (Soil Conservation Service, 1989). These diverse forest types provide a wide variety of feeding, nesting, and escape habitats for several animal species (Gilbert and Stout, 1983). In natural landscapes, beautyberry is usually found at the edges of woods (Brown & Tighe, 1991) and in forest openings resuiting from tree-fall and other natural disturbances. Beautyberry is also a common component of managed landscapeg such as hedgerows and roadsides (Martin et al., 1951). Beautyberry is in the Verbenaceae, the Verbena family, to which lantana (Lantana camara) and golden dewdrol5 (Durantarepens) also belong (Zona, 1994). American beautyberry is one of about 140 species of Callicarpa native to the tropics and mild-temperate zones of both the eastern and the western hemispheres (Zona, 1994). A number of observations and studies indicate that beautyberry has considerable value for wildlife. Beautyberry twigs and foliage are a minor component of the diet of white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus) (Martin et al., 1951; Stribling, 1988). The fruit, a small, bright-violet, fleshy drupe (Radford et al., 1968), is a favored food of the robin (Turdus migratorius ) , mockingbird ( Mimus polyglottos ) , catbird (Dumatella carolinensis), brown thrasher ( Toxostoma rufum ) (Martin et al., 1951), and wild turkey (Meleagris gallo. pavo) (Kennamer et al., 1980), and is a mi-","PeriodicalId":105419,"journal":{"name":"Restoration & Management Notes","volume":"79 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"1995-06-20","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"130302879","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
| suppression. M any foresters and ecologists recognize that disruption of the historic pattern of frequent fires in ponderosa pine forests has resulted in major ecological changes, including increasingly severe wildfires and insect and disease epidemics (Weaver, 1943; Covington and Moore, 1992; Mutch and others, 1993; Everett, 1994). In response to this realization, there is increasing interest among natural resource managers, biologists, and the public in restoring ponderosa pine forests to more natural and sustainable conditions (American Forests, 1995). The Intermountain Research Station and the University of Montana’s School of Forestry, in cooperation with the Bitterroot and Lolo National Forests have been testing the effectiveness of different silvicultural and prescribed-fire treatments for restoring ponderosa pine forests, and we will report some observations and initial findings here. But first we will summarize ecological changes that have occurred and describe our restoration treatments. For thousands of years fire shaped the composition and structure of North American forests, favoring species such as ponderosa pine (Pinus ponderosa) that are fireresistant and require fire to regenerate and compete successfully with other species (Pyne, 1982, Agee, 1993). In the inland West, pure ponderosa pine and mixed ponderosa pine-fir types are the most extensive of the fire-dependent forests. Non-fire-dependent species associated with ponderosa pine are interior Douglas-fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii var. glauca), grand fir (Abies grandis), white fir (A. concolor), and incensecedar (Calocedrus decurrens). Pure and mixed ponderosa pine types cover about 40 million acres (16 million hectares) in the western United States, an area equal to that of the state of Washington (van Hooser and Keegan, 1988). Prior to the early 1900s these forests were characterized by frequent lowto moderate-intensity fires, mostly underbums that killed few overstory pines. Historically, fires at intervals averaging five to 30 years in most areas thinned small trees and helped produce open, park-like, fire-resistant stands (Amo, 1988). Today many of these forests have changed dramatically and are experiencing critical health problems as a result of 60-80 years of fire exclusion and logging of overstory pines. For example, more than a million acres in eastern Oregon’s Blue Mountains now consist mostly of dead or dying trees, primarily fir thickets impacted by insect and disease epidemics (Mutch and others, 1993). Also, large stand-destroying wildfires, formerly rare in the open ponderosa pine forests, have become common in the dense stands that have developed as a result of fire exclusion. Dense stands also provide fuel ladders that cause fires to increase in intensity and climb into tree crowns. Severe fires in ponderosa pine made up a large portion of the three million acres that burned in the inland West during 1994. Past logging, which selectively removed large pines and
|抑制。任何林业工作者和生态学家都认识到，黄松林频繁火灾的历史模式遭到破坏，导致了重大的生态变化，包括日益严重的野火和虫害和疾病流行(Weaver, 1943;Covington and Moore, 1992;穆奇等人，1993;埃弗雷特,1994)。由于认识到这一点，自然资源管理人员、生物学家和公众对将黄松林恢复到更自然和可持续的条件越来越感兴趣(美国森林，1995年)。山间研究站和蒙大拿大学林业学院与比特根国家森林和洛洛国家森林合作，一直在测试不同的造林和规定的火灾处理对恢复黄松林的有效性，我们将在这里报告一些观察结果和初步发现。但首先，我们将总结已经发生的生态变化，并描述我们的恢复措施。几千年来，火塑造了北美森林的组成和结构，有利于黄松(Pinus ponderosa)等物种，这些物种耐火，需要火来再生并与其他物种成功竞争(Pyne, 1982, Agee, 1993)。在内陆西部，纯黄松和混合黄松-冷杉类型是最广泛的火依赖森林。与黄松相关的不依赖火的树种有室内道格拉斯冷杉(pseudosuga menziesii var. glauca)、大冷杉(Abies grandis)、白杉(A. concolor)和香杉树(Calocedrus decurrens)。在美国西部，纯黄松和混合黄松类型覆盖了大约4000万英亩(1600万公顷)，相当于华盛顿州的面积(van Hooser和Keegan, 1988)。在20世纪初之前，这些森林的特点是经常发生低到中等强度的火灾，主要是烧毁了很少的上层松树。从历史上看，在大多数地区，平均每隔5到30年发生一次火灾，使小树变薄，并有助于形成开放的、公园状的、防火的林分(Amo, 1988)。今天，许多这些森林发生了巨大变化，由于60-80年的禁火和砍伐上层松树，正在经历严重的健康问题。例如，俄勒冈州东部蓝山100多万英亩的土地现在大多是死亡或垂死的树木，主要是受到虫害和疾病流行影响的冷杉丛林(穆奇等人，1993年)。此外，以前在开阔的黄松林中很少发生的大规模破坏林分的野火，在由于防火而发展起来的茂密林分中变得很常见。茂密的树木也提供了燃料梯子，导致火灾强度增加并爬上树冠。1994年，黄松的严重火灾占据了西部内陆300万英亩土地的很大一部分。过去的伐木有选择地砍伐了大型松树，留下了林下树木，这使得针叶林得以迅速发展(Habeck, 1990)。广泛的案件,
{"title":"Restoring Fire-Dependent Ponderosa Pine Forests in Western Montana","authors":"S. Arno, M. Harrington, C. Fiedler, C. Carlson","doi":"10.3368/er.13.1.32","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.3368/er.13.1.32","url":null,"abstract":"| suppression. M any foresters and ecologists recognize that disruption of the historic pattern of frequent fires in ponderosa pine forests has resulted in major ecological changes, including increasingly severe wildfires and insect and disease epidemics (Weaver, 1943; Covington and Moore, 1992; Mutch and others, 1993; Everett, 1994). In response to this realization, there is increasing interest among natural resource managers, biologists, and the public in restoring ponderosa pine forests to more natural and sustainable conditions (American Forests, 1995). The Intermountain Research Station and the University of Montana’s School of Forestry, in cooperation with the Bitterroot and Lolo National Forests have been testing the effectiveness of different silvicultural and prescribed-fire treatments for restoring ponderosa pine forests, and we will report some observations and initial findings here. But first we will summarize ecological changes that have occurred and describe our restoration treatments. For thousands of years fire shaped the composition and structure of North American forests, favoring species such as ponderosa pine (Pinus ponderosa) that are fireresistant and require fire to regenerate and compete successfully with other species (Pyne, 1982, Agee, 1993). In the inland West, pure ponderosa pine and mixed ponderosa pine-fir types are the most extensive of the fire-dependent forests. Non-fire-dependent species associated with ponderosa pine are interior Douglas-fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii var. glauca), grand fir (Abies grandis), white fir (A. concolor), and incensecedar (Calocedrus decurrens). Pure and mixed ponderosa pine types cover about 40 million acres (16 million hectares) in the western United States, an area equal to that of the state of Washington (van Hooser and Keegan, 1988). Prior to the early 1900s these forests were characterized by frequent lowto moderate-intensity fires, mostly underbums that killed few overstory pines. Historically, fires at intervals averaging five to 30 years in most areas thinned small trees and helped produce open, park-like, fire-resistant stands (Amo, 1988). Today many of these forests have changed dramatically and are experiencing critical health problems as a result of 60-80 years of fire exclusion and logging of overstory pines. For example, more than a million acres in eastern Oregon’s Blue Mountains now consist mostly of dead or dying trees, primarily fir thickets impacted by insect and disease epidemics (Mutch and others, 1993). Also, large stand-destroying wildfires, formerly rare in the open ponderosa pine forests, have become common in the dense stands that have developed as a result of fire exclusion. Dense stands also provide fuel ladders that cause fires to increase in intensity and climb into tree crowns. Severe fires in ponderosa pine made up a large portion of the three million acres that burned in the inland West during 1994. Past logging, which selectively removed large pines and ","PeriodicalId":105419,"journal":{"name":"Restoration & Management Notes","volume":"24 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"1995-06-20","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"133542521","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
京公网安备 11010802042870号
京ICP备2023020795号-1
扫码关注我们
求助内容：
应助结果提醒方式：