Nature flies on

From the mid-1800s to the early 1900s the millinery trade convinced ladies that feathers in their hats would make them more attractive. The result was a mass killing of herons, egrets and other waterfowl that brought several of them to the brink of extinction. With feathers going for $32 an ounce in the 1800s, and one late Victorian egret feather offered today by Ruby Lane for $49, it's no wonder...

In Oregon, egrets were killed by the thousands. Western grebes were also targets of the "plume-hunters." Only the breast patch was removed from the dead birds and sold as "Oregon Sable" for $12 an ounce.

In the '50s and '60s you would have been hard-pressed to see a wild bald eagle or peregrine falcon soaring overhead. DDT, destruction of habitat and shooting had taken a heavy toll. But not anymore. We have rebuilt their populations through removal of DDT, habitat conservation, and law enforcement.

There was also a time when there was no limit on the amount of ducks and geese you shot during hunting season, or the numbers of fish you brought home to feed the family. The demise of millions upon millions of salmon showed the folly of that approach.

In the early 1900s no one had the slightest inkling passenger pigeons, once the most populous bird on the planet, would soon become extinct. But when tons of pigeon meat was shipped to restaurants in New York and Philadelphia year after year, passenger pigeons vanished forever, and none but a few "bird-lovers" mourned their passing.

The days of "no end to it all," and "it'll last forever" are gone. Our forests have been exploited for almost all the big trees. The dead trees (snags) that once supported abundant cavity-nesting birds - and were also harvested for firewood to keep a lot of homes warm in winter - are now carefully managed for wildlife.

There was a time - in my lifetime, actually - when anyone wanting wood to burn for the winter, all they would have to do was to drive just a few miles from town and cut a full season's supply; but not anymore.

There was a time when anyone could hunt, fish, hike, peddle a bike, drive a motorcycle or snowmobile anywhere they wanted; but not anymore.

There was a time when anyone could hike the entire Cascade Range without worrying about where to camp, where to build a fire - whether he or she had a permit, or a lock on the camper - but you can't do that anymore, either.

Sure, it costs money to hike the Cascades today; you have to purchase a permit. You also must purchase a wood-cutting permit to harvest dead trees for firewood and fence posts. Thanks to the Migratory Bird Act, it's also illegal to place feathers of protected birds in your hat, or have them in your possession.

Conservation has taken the place of exploitation; management has taken the place of unlimited harvesting of our natural resources.

The answer to saving species boils down to four key factors: Habitat conservation, natural diversity, species protection - and money. Without a place to call home, enough food to eat, trying to save wildlife is a lost cause.

Yes, the passenger pigeon and (perhaps) the ivory-billed woodpecker are gone, but we are working hard to save the snowy plover, spotted owl, American bald eagle, California condor, and a host of other life forms - including ourselves.

We're close to exciting and challenging changes of true conservation of our natural treasures because we're (hopefully) learning from our mistakes. We know what it takes to ensure the safety of nesting eagles. We know what it's going to take to save what salmon we have left - and enough water to drink.

Aldo Leopold, said to be the "Father of Natural Resource Management," opened a lot of eyes when, in 1949, he said: "The outstanding scientific discovery of the twentieth century is not television or radio, but rather the complexity of the land organism. Only those who know the most about it can appreciate how little is known about it.

"The last word in ignorance is the man who asks of an animal or plant: 'What good is it?' If the land mechanism as a whole is good, then every part is good, whether we understand it or not. If the biota, in the course of eons, has built something we like but do not understand, then who but a fool would discard seemingly useless parts? To keep every cog and wheel is the first precaution of intelligent tinkering."