But most of the Southeast\u2019s biodiversity isn\u2019t formally protected, and it\u2019s at risk, thanks to a long history of development, tree farming and logging, coal mining, and the introduction of invasive species. (The American chestnut, for instance, once a prominent species throughout Appalachia, was decimated in the 1900s after the introduction of an East Asian fungus.) Ecologists and environmental advocates say that the region\u2019s biodiversity can be saved \u2014 if we can learn to value its natural resources the way we value those of the American West.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt takes a lot of people that are committed to the region to work really hard for a long time\u201d to protect wilderness, according to Travis Belote, a research ecologist for the advocacy group The Wilderness Society.<\/p>\n
Recommended areas to prioritize for conservation expansion based on combined species richness for mammal, bird, amphibian, reptile, freshwater fish, and tree taxa throughout the U.S.<\/span> Jenkins, C. N., Van Houtan, K. S., Pimm, S. L., & Sexton, J. O. (2015). US protected lands mismatch biodiversity priorities. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 112(16), 5081-5086.<\/span><\/p>\n The disparity in how we treat wilderness in the East and West comes in part from the direction of European colonization, which started on the East Coast and slowly spread westward throughout the 19th century. \u201cAs we were spreading west, we were quickly taking land that wasn\u2019t ours and deforesting it in the process,\u201d said Sam Davis, conservation scientist for the Dogwood Alliance, a nonprofit organization dedicated to the protection of Southern forests. \u201cBetween 1880 and 1930, we managed to deforest about two-thirds of the East Coast,\u201d said Davis, thanks in part to sawmill technology advancements<\/a> and the creation of railroads that made the processing and shipping of timber easier. In the years since, fossil fuel industry practices like mountaintop removal<\/a> for coal mining, offshore oil drilling in the Gulf and along the Atlantic, and fracking in Appalachia\u2019s Marcellus Shale formation<\/a> have further threatened biodiversity \u2014 not to mention the climate and the health of the often Black and Indigenous communities living nearby.<\/p>\n Meanwhile, during the settlement of the West in the 19th century, it wasn\u2019t so easy to exploit the land for profit \u2014 the mountainous topography<\/a> in the West wasn\u2019t desirable to farmers and ranchers. And in the late 1800s and early 1900s, early environmentalists and naturalists like John Muir and Theodore Roosevelt began to promote the need to protect wilderness from development, said Davis. In 1872, Congress established Yellowstone as the first national park, followed in 1890 by Yosemite, which Muir advocated heavily for. During his time in office in the first decade of the 20th century, President Theodore Roosevelt established 150 national forests, five national parks, and 18 national monuments, the vast majority in the West \u2014 and the National Parks Service hadn\u2019t even been established yet.<\/p>\n \u201cIt wasn\u2019t as occupied in the West, and so it was much easier for the federal government to take those lands and hold them,\u201d Davis said (though, of course, Native American populations had been inhabiting these regions for millennia). Most land in the Southeast is privately held, having been sold off and settled early on after colonization, but the federal government owns almost 50 percent of land in the West.<\/p>\n In the East, places like the Great Dismal Swamp National Wildlife Refuge present a rare example of federally protected wilderness. But even the parks and national forests that are protected, like Jefferson National Forest in Virginia and West Virginia or Nantahala National Forest in North Carolina, are available for limited commercial use<\/a> (although environmental organizations often organize and litigate against this commercial use).<\/p>\n A bigger problem when it comes to protecting Southeastern biodiversity, though, is that so much Southern wilderness is privately owned. And because economic growth is so closely tied to the landscape, individuals who do own land will often use their trees or their resources as a reluctant source of revenue.<\/p>\n Belote says that that decision is understandable. \u201cIf you own 100 acres in southwest Virginia or northeast Tennessee that\u2019s been in your family for 100 years or more, and you don\u2019t have much income, and you have an opportunity of making some money on selling your timber, how can you say that that shouldn\u2019t be on the table?\u201d he said.<\/p>\n Clinton Jenkins, associate professor in the earth and environment department at Florida International University, said that the solution is in finding uses for the land that are both profitable and sustainable, like selling the land for the creation of parks, or installing tourist attractions like country bed and breakfasts.<\/p>\n The Dogwood Alliance is thinking along the same lines, promoting the protection of land in the Southeast for wildlife and recreational purposes. For example, the group has been working with the Pee Dee tribe in North Carolina to protect places like the Pee Dee Wildlife Refuge from pollution from wood pellet operations.<\/p>\n \u201cThere are a lot of strategies,\u201d Davis said, noting that state and local parks and protected areas can protect biodiversity just as well as Western-style national parks. Creating wildlife refuges, parks, and protected areas to be used as tourist attractions in the region would bring a different revenue stream into the South, and some much-needed jobs<\/a> in an area where the pandemic has led to massive job loss, all while providing additional opportunities to engage with green space for local residents. Spaces like the Pee Dee and Great Dismal Swamp Wildlife Refuges allow activities like fishing, hunting, and bird-watching, and it\u2019s estimated that wildlife refuges like these produce about $2.4 billion<\/a> in economic output annually nationwide.<\/p>\n \u201cThe tourism industry in the South should be much bigger than it is, because there are so many cool things to do in the South,\u201d said Davis.<\/p>\n The feasibility of such a switch is uncertain. It depends on whether property owners would be willing to sell their land for recreational use and whether demand for the energy and timber coming out of the Southeast decreases enough to allow for public land conversions. Finding the public funds to purchase private lands right now is also a concern; in the midst of a pandemic-caused economic crisis, it would take a real push from the public to allot funding for the conversion of private land into public parks. And tourism brings its own ecological challenges, like increased litter, pollution, and noise.<\/p>\n But a recreational solution may be the best and most economically sound strategy for preserving what ecosystems and species remain in the Southeast.<\/p>\n![](\"https:\/\/grist.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/01\/protected-land-map1.jpg\")
Ownership status of lands in the United States.<\/span> Jenkins, C. N., Van Houtan, K. S., Pimm, S. L., & Sexton, J. O. (2015). US protected lands mismatch biodiversity priorities. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 112(16), 5081-5086.<\/span><\/p>\n