Early white settlers
on the high plains of the western U.S. were always bummed out when colossal
swarms of locusts dropped by for lunch.
The sky would darken, and the land would be filled with the roaring buzz
of millions of fluttering wings. Within
an hour or so, everything was covered with them, including the settlers, who
frantically tried to brush off the hundreds of hungry insects that were chewing
apart their clothing.
They were Rocky
Mountain locusts, a North American species that lived west of the Mississippi —
and the stars of Jeffrey Lockwood’s book, Locust. When swarming, these insects were
a horror show. A swarm could devour 50
tons of greenery in a day. Trains
couldn’t move because the tracks were too greasy. Swarms were like tornadoes, wiping out one
area while leaving other neighbors in the region untouched.
In June of 1875,
folks in Nebraska observed a swarm that was 1,800 miles long (2,900 km), 110
miles wide (177 km), and between a quarter and a half mile deep (0.4 to 0.8
km). It devoured 198,000 square miles
(512,000 sq. km), an area almost as large as Colorado and Wyoming. The swarm took five days to pass. Lockwood estimated that it might have been 10
billion locusts — possibly the biggest assemblage of animals ever experienced
by human beings.
Normally, maybe 80
percent of the time, locusts stayed in their home base, in the river valleys of
the northern Rockies, a habitat that may have consisted of a mere 2,000 acres
(809 ha). They ate, reproduced, and
enjoyed life.
Periodic droughts
would reduce the available food supply, causing locusts to crowd into pockets
of surviving greenery. Dry weather
eliminated the population control provided by fungal diseases. Drought also concentrated the nutritional
value of vegetation. Warmer temperatures
meant that locusts grew to maturity more quickly, so they spent less time in
the nymph stage, when predators took a heavy toll on the helpless
youngsters. The swarming process was
triggered by crowding. They could either
starve or see the world.
A hungry swarm of
two million American settlers moved into the high plains in the 1870s, and
ravaged the short grass prairie with cows and plows. They planted lots of wheat, and then
discovered that locusts preferred wheat to everything else on the menu.
They exterminated
the bison that were perfectly adapted to the ecosystem, and brought in cattle
that were unsuited for the arid climate, did not fancy the native vegetation,
and died like flies during frigid winters.
They exterminated the wolves, and other wild predators, because they
enjoyed owning and exploiting helpless dimwitted domesticated herbivores.
Settlers attempted
to import their Western European way of life to an ecosystem where it could not
possibly thrive. Instead of trying to
adapt to the ecosystem, they expected the ecosystem to adapt to their exotic
fantasies — a traditional recipe for failure.
In their dream world, locusts were pests, wolves were pests, bison were
pests — death to all pests!
The Indians
perceived locusts, wolves, and bison as being sacred relatives, not pests. The Indians enjoyed a time-proven culture
that was well adapted to the ecosystem.
Can you guess who the Indians considered to be pests?
Long ago, in the
wilderness of Judea, there was a holy roller named John. One day, he baptized a lad called Jesus. The heavens opened up, a spirit appeared, and
led Jesus away to the wilderness for a life changing 40 day vision quest. The Baptist had a wild diet: “And the same
John had his raiment of camel's hair, and a leathern girdle about his loins;
and his meat was locusts and wild honey.”
(Matthew 3:4)
To the Indians,
locusts were not pests, they were a sacred source of nutritious food. Their tasty flesh was rich with calories and
60 percent protein. In an hour, they
could forage 200 pounds (90 kg) of dried insects, storing away 273,000
calories. It was faster, easier, and
safer than hunting large, strong, speedy herbivores with sharp horns that took
great pleasure in trampling and disemboweling hunters.
At the Great Salt
Lake, Mormons discovered that locusts couldn’t swim. Millions would drown, and then the winds
would push their bodies to the shore, in piles six feet high (1.8 m) and two
miles long (3.2 km). As the corpses
rotted, memorable fragrances wafted on the air.
While a tremendous source of excellent food rotted away, the settlers
complained about the stink.
White settlers
loathed the locusts. Comically, everything
they tried to exterminate the swarms failed — flooding, rollers, dynamite,
trawlers, poisons, flamethrowers. During
the swarming phase, resistance was futile, the insects were impossible to
control.
Eventually,
entomologists were summoned to combat the insects with science. Several chapters shine spotlights on
famous entomologists who strove to understand locusts, and render them harmless
to the devastating swarms of white settlers.
As more settlers moved into the high plains, the locust
numbers declined. There were fewer
swarms. Attention shifted to other
challenges. Eventually, entomologists
realized that nobody had seen a locust in a long time. The
last Rocky Mountain locust died in Manitoba in 1902. They went extinct, but folks didn’t notice
for quite a while. It was unimaginable
that critters that existed in such enormous numbers could completely disappear
within a few decades.
A number of
half-baked theories attempted to explain the spooky extinction, but Lockwood
was the one who finally solved the mystery.
He visited several “grasshopper glaciers” where layers of dead locusts
could be observed, and found locusts that died 800 years ago. Swarming was not caused by settlers.
One day, he had an insight.
Monarch butterflies are vulnerable to extinction because the forests
where they spend the winter are being eliminated, and this is a
bottleneck. The bottleneck for the
locusts was their home base along northern river valleys — arable lands,
exactly where whites preferred to settle.
Irrigation, tilling, and cattle grazing hammered the locusts where they
were most vulnerable, home sweet home.
Entomologists around the world work tirelessly to discover
new methods for exterminating agricultural
pest species, and the insects always succeed in outwitting the wizards. The Rocky Mountain locust is the one and only
major insect pest to be completely wiped out, and they were driven to
extinction unintentionally.
They were only
“pests” in the eyes of the civilized.
Prior to white settlement, there were no plowmen, ranchers, pests, or
entomologists, just a wild ecosystem living in its traditional manner. Maybe entomologists should help us exorcise the pests in our nightmare worldview, teach us how to live in balance, and call
an end to the futile poisonous war on our insect relatives.
Lockwood mused
that crowding also inspires bizarre behavior in humans. We have powerful urges to escape from the
neurotic mob, and fly away to places of refuge, to pure unspoiled suburban
utopias.
He noted that
while locust populations sometimes soared to enormous peaks, vast numbers did
not guarantee long-term survival. He
noted that the human population is currently at an enormous peak. Both humans and locusts are generalists that
can migrate and adapt. Locusts dined on
at least 50 varieties of plants. Humans,
on the other hand, largely depend on three plants: rice, wheat, and corn. Will climate change be our bottleneck?
Lockwood, Jeffrey A., Locust,
Basic Books, New York, 2004.
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