Volunteering for victory: can people power make New Zealand pest-free?

I've often discussed citizen science and how it varies from pie-in-the-sky research to projects with practical goals that may be achievable within a lifetime. When it comes to conserving native species New Zealand has a plethora of public engagements, including the Garden Bird Survey and Great Kererū Count (the latter being the country's largest citizen science project.) In a nation that is slowly waking to the realisation that it is far from '100% Pure', concerted efforts are finally be made to secure a future for beleaguered native fauna (and to a lesser extent flora, although few are seemingly aware of the interdependencies).

In late 2016 I wrote a post about the Predator Free 2050 scheme, focusing on how impractical it seemed. There was good reason for this: the University of Auckland estimated that it would require an astonishing NZ$9 billion to implement, a figure approaching 4% of the national GDP. Five years on and it appears this negativity was well deserved, as the project appears woefully underfunded; according to their website so far only NZ$178 million has been spent on the scheme. By comparison the annual budget for controlling possums, rats and stoats is NZ$114m, so it could hardly be deemed a flying start. There are an estimated 30 million possums in New Zealand, never mind the mustelids, rodents and other lesser pest species; the obvious implication is that numbers this large will require equally immense resources to eradicate them.

So what's to prevent this from being just another example of  'doomscrolling', of which have plentiful examples at the moment? After all, with billionaires now spending precious resources on racing to become astronauts - presumably superyachts are so last decade - it could be argued that those with the funds for the task just aren't interested in anything as mundane as conservation. It's often said that it is the people who make a place and in the case of New Zealand, it could just be the citizens - both with and without science - that make the difference. Kiwi ingenuity (that's the people, not the bird) and the 'number eight wire' mentality have enabled a young nation to punch well above its weight in so many fields. Can they do likewise in conservation?

Let's start with the science. New Zealand's rugged landscape requires a smart approach to predator control; there are so many reasons why flying thousands of bait-dropping helicopter missions would not be a good idea, not least due to the impossibility of funding them. Various projects are therefore now looking to lower the cost of poisoning and trapping, seeking robust maintenance-free solutions that can survive in the wilderness with minimal human intervention. From new thermal imaging cameras to auto-reset bait stations containing long-lasting toxins, research projects are showing that small-scale developments can make enormous differences to pest eradication. Hopefully, some of these devices will be out in the field in useful numbers within the next few years.

Often unsung heroes, there are also thousands of New Zealand citizens doing unpaid conservation work. I've met various volunteers for the Department of Conservation who spend their weekends climbing up and down knotted ropes and wading through icy streams in order to replenish bait boxes and reset traps. Many are retirees and some are ex-military - it's physically demanding and not at all glamorous, but can very satisfying work. The nation has a long history of such volunteering, something which has escalated in the past forty years with the setting up of predator-free fenced mainland sanctuaries and small sanctuary islands. To date, there are approximately 120 such refuges for native wildlife, many having been initiated by their local community and now being sustained by volunteers.

Even businesses are belatedly getting in on the act, giving their staff paid workdays to undertake volunteering such as planting and weeding within sanctuaries and coastal rubbish clean-ups. Earlier this year (between lockdowns of course) I was lucky enough to spend a day on Motuihe Island in the Hauraki Gulf, one of a group of thirty or so volunteers removing the noxious invasive plant woolly nightshade. What was amazing was seeing small flocks of native birds such as saddleback/tīeke, New Zealand parakeet/kākāriki and whitehead/pōpokotea, as opposed to the usual one or two you might see elsewhere (such as in zoo enclosures). Clearly, the planting of native species and foreign pest eradication - including abseiling to reach some of the weeds - has paid off beautifully.

Small islands are one thing, but what about the mainland? The nation's capital, Wellington, might be claimed by its inhabitants to be leading the way. Predator Free Wellington is the umbrella organisation for a range of projects that are aiming to eradicate pests from 30,000 hectares in and around the city. Already being possum free, the Miramar peninsula has been the starting point of rodent eradication, with almost 10,000 bait stations and traps placed at regularly intervals, mostly in residential gardens. The project is labour-intensive but still costs millions, so the hope is that by setting an example of what can be achieved, other regions in the country will follow suit. Whether their local councils will prove as farsighted as the capital's remains to be seen.

Like climate change mitigation, it seems that engaging and motivating the general public will be the only way to achieve a predator-free New Zealand, whether in 2050 or most likely at some point later. If this seems a bit naive - and overly optimistic, especially when compared to my initial assessment in 2016 - then last year's incredible work by the population to contain COVID-19 made New Zealand a frequent feature on international headlines, something that was previously a rare event. The 'team of five million' showed the naysayers (most of these, in my experience, being middle-aged white men) that even a relatively small group of people, globally speaking, could provide inspiration and be a role model to kick-start action elsewhere. If a lot of people take a little action, surely it can combine into an enormous amount of change? Much depends on the success - and cost - of Predator Free Wellington; if the nation's capital can achieve it the snowball effect might just take off, with local groups of volunteers making up for the lack of support from government and big business. 

What's in it for the volunteers, you might ask? The health benefits, from physical exercise to reducing stress and anxiety, are now well established. In addition, those who dedicate their spare time to unpaid conservation work can learn new practical skills, meet like-minded people, engage in teamwork and gain enjoyment from the sheer empowerment - knowing that you are actually achieving something useful. According to the Department of Conservation, it is estimated there are currently 200,000 active volunteers in this sector, which might not sound like a large number until you realise that it accounts for almost four percent of the New Zealand population!

Considering the history of the fenced reserves and sanctuary islands, it seems clear that motivating local communities can achieve wonders. If the Predator Free project is to succeed, we need a widespread engagement of the general population. New Zealand is far from alone, but having lost over fifty birds (more if you include the Chatham Islands), three lizards, three frogs, a bat, a freshwater fish, four plant species and numerous invertebrates, now is the time to act. Despite the negative effects of pollution and habitat loss due to development, it is a sobering thought that invasive fauna are equally capable of inflecting immense damage on a previously isolated ecosystem. As this plaque shows, many species were lost prior to the landing of the first Europeans: the original human inhabitants of New Zealand arrived less than a thousand years ago, but a combination of the introduced Polynesian rat and Polynesian dog, and their own hunting prowess, rapidly kick-started the eradication process.

Well, this is my last post, as least for a while. After twelve years I've learnt an enormous amount, but my sustainability champion voluntary work - engaging with over 5,000 work colleague on climate change mitigation and wider environmental issues - is taking up my spare time. If there is a moral to this story, it's a simple one: let's act - now!

Biophilic cities: why green is the new black

I've previously discussed the notion that children who spend more time outside in natural surroundings are more likely to have improved mental and physical health compared to their indoors, gadget-centred peers, but does the same hold true for adults as well? After all, there have been many claims that the likes of the fractal geometry of natural objects, the sensual stimulation, the random behaviour of animals, even feeling breezes or better air quality can have a positive or 'wellness' (horrific term though it is) effect.

It is pretty much a given that the larger the percentage of nature existing within conurbations, the greater the improvement to the local environment. This begins at the practical level, with vegetation mitigating extremes of heat while its roots helps reduce flooding. In addition, fauna and flora gain more room to live in, with a greater number of species able to survive than just the usual urban adaptees such as rats and pigeons. What about the less tangible benefits to humans, culminating in a better quality of life? Science isn't wishful thinking, so what about the evidence for more nature-filled urban environments improving life for all its citizens, not just children?

Studies suggest that having window views of trees can increase concentration and wellbeing in the workplace, while for hospital patients there is a clear correlation between types of view and both the length of recovery periods and painkiller usage. Therefore it seems that even the appearance of close-at-hand nature can have an effect, without the necessity of immersion. Having said that, there are clear advantages to having a public green space, since it allows a wide range of activities such as flying kites, playing ball games, jogging and boot camps, or just having a picnic.

Our largely sedentary, over-caloried lives necessitate as much physical activity as we can get, but there is apparently something greater than just physical exercise behind nature as a promoter of wellbeing. Investigation appears to show that spaces with trees and the hint of wilderness are far more beneficial than the unnatural and restricted geometries of manicured lawns and neatly maintained flower beds. It seems that we are still very much beholden to the call of the wild. If this is a fundamental component of our highly civilised lives, are urban planners aware of this and do they incorporate such elements into our artificial environments?

The concept of integrating nature into our towns and cities certainly isn't a new one. As a child, I occasionally visited Letchworth Garden City, a town just north of London. As the name suggests, it was an early form of 'Green Belt' planning, created at the start of the Twentieth century and divided into sectors for residential, industrial and agricultural usage. In its first half century it tried to live up to its intention to be self-sufficient in food, water and power generation, but this later proved impractical. I don't recall it being anything special, but then its heyday as a mecca for the health conscious (at a time when the likes of exercise and vegetarianism were associated with far left-wing politics) has long since passed. As to whether the inhabitants have ever been mentally - or even physically - advantaged compared to the older conurbations elsewhere in the UK, I cannot find any evidence.

Across the Atlantic, the great American architect Frank Lloyd-Wright conceived of something similar but on a far larger scale. His Broadacre City concept was first published in 1932, with the key idea that every family would live on an acre-sized plot. However, Lloyd-Wright's concept - apart from being economically prohibitive - relied on private cars (later updated to aerator, a form of personal helicopter) for most transportation; sidewalks were largely absent from his drawings and models. Incidentally, some US cities today have partially adopted the sidewalk-free model but without Lloyd-Wright's green-oriented features. For example, there are suburbs in oil-centric Houston that are only reachable by car; you have to drive even to reach shopping malls you can see from your own home, with high pedestrian mortality rates proving the dangers of attempting to walk anywhere. Back to Lloyd-Wright: like many of his schemes, his own predilections and aesthetic sensibilities seem to have influenced his design rather more than any evidence-based insight into social engineering.

In recent years the term 'biophilic cities' has been used to describe conurbations attempting to increase their ratio of nature to artifice, often due to a combination of public campaigning and far-sighted local governments. Although these schemes cover much wider ground than just human wellbeing (prominent issues being reduction in power usage and waste, greater recycling and ecological diversity, etc), one of the side effects of the improvements is to quality of life. Thirteen cities joined the Biophilic Cities project in 2013, but others are just as committed in the long-term to offsetting the downsides of urban living. Here are three cities I have visited that are dedicated to improving their environment:

1. Singapore. Despite the abundance of tower blocks, especially in its southern half, this city that is also a nation has a half-century history of planting vegetation in order to live up to the motto ‘Singapore - City in a Garden’. Despite its large-scale adoption of high-tech, high-rise architecture, Singapore has preserved an equivalent area of green space and now ranks top of the Green View Index. Even the maximal artificiality of the main highways is tempered by continuous rows of tall, closedly-packed trees while building regulations dictate replacement of ground-level vegetation lost to development. A new 280-metre tall office, retail and residential building, due for completion in 2021, is set to incorporate overtly green elements such as a rainforest plaza. It could be argued that it's easy for Singapore to undertake such green initiatives considering that much of city didn't exist before the late Twentieth century and what did has been subject to wide-scale demolition. However, it seems that Singapore's Government has a long-term strategy to incorporate nature into the city, with the resulting improvements in the mental and physical wellbeing of its inhabitants.
2. Toronto. Although not as ecologically renowned as Vancouver, the local government and University of Toronto are engaged in a comprehensive series of plans to improve the quality of life for both humans and the rest of nature. From the green roof bylaw and eco-friendly building subsidies to Live Green Toronto Program, there is a set of strategies to aid the local environment and planet in general. It is already paying dividends in a large reduction of air pollution-related medical cases, while quality of life improvements are shown by the substantial bicycle-biased infrastructure and increase in safe swimming days. There's still plenty to do in order to achieve their long term goals, particularly around traffic-related issues, but the city and its inhabitants are clearly aiming high.
3. Wellington. New Zealand's capital has wooded parks and tree-filled valleys that the council promotes as part of the city's quality of life. The recreated wetlands at Waitangi Park and the Zealandia (formerly Karori) predator-proof wildlife sanctuary are key components in the integration of large-scale nature into the urban environment. Indeed, the latter is proving so successful that rare native birds such as the kaka are being increasingly found in neighbourhood gardens. Both the city and regional councils are committed to improving both the quality of life for citizens as well as for the environment in general, from storm water filtering in Waitangi Park to the wind turbines on the hilltops of what may be the world's windiest city.

These cities are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to conurbations around the world seeking to make amends for the appalling environmental and psychological consequences of cramming immense numbers of humans into a small region that cannot possibly supply all their needs. In some respects these biophilic cities appear too good to be true, as their schemes reduce pollution and greenhouse gas emissions, improve the local ecosystem, and at the same time appear to aid the physical and mental wellbeing of their inhabitants. Yet it shouldn't be surprising really; cities are a recent invention and before that a nomadic lifestyle embedded us in landscapes that were mostly devoid of human intervention. If we are to achieve any sort of comfortable equilibrium in these hectic times, then surely covering bare concrete with greenery is the key? You don't have to be a hippy tree hugger to appreciate what nature can bring to our lives.