Essay by John Mattingly
Environment – May 2006 – Colorado Central Magazine
WHENEVER I HEAR about the scourge of salt cedar, also known as the tamarisk, I can’t help but notice how similar Tamarix aphylla is to Homo sapiens. Both species transplanted to the southwestern United States for what seemed like good reasons at the time, only to proliferate out of control. Both produce a toxic effect on their surroundings, at the expense of predecessor and competing species. And both are very fond of water.
Salt cedar was introduced to the southwestern United States by Homo sapiens in about 1850 as an ornamental, and for erosion control. Now H. sapiens want to get rid of tamarisk for overdoing its job by out-competing “native” species on more than a million riparian acres. This is a variation on the pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it? — considering that we H. sapiens aren’t native to the southwestern U. S. either.
A thoughtful attempt to control salt cedar was made by Shelton Farms in the Arkansas River valley in the early 1970s. As farmers, the folks at Shelton Farms saw the salt cedar robbing water from their ditches, hired some technical work to document the robbery, and put their bulldozer to work. Next, they filed for a new water right on the water they’d salvaged by annihilating the water thief. But the Colorado Supreme Court ruled against Shelton Farms. (See Southeastern Conservancy District v Shelton Farms, CSC 1975)
Part of the reason Shelton failed was the farmers filed for an out-of-priority right, or essentially a new water right, meaning it had the equivalent of a first call on the river. Had Shelton Farms filed for an in-priority right, the outcome might have been different.
In any case, the Shelton Farms decision contributed to the spread of salt cedar along Colorado water ways, because it removed the best incentive to control it.
Yes, removing salt cedar in one’s own reach of a river increases the water supply, but not necessarily to the benefit of the person who has assumed the expense of removal. Instead, clearing salt cedar from your property might end up increasing the water supply to a neighbor, or worse, to a downstream state.
If you want to get rid of salt cedar by the end of next summer, ask our legislature to pass a law this spring allowing an in-priority water right for the specific destruction of salt cedar. Permits would be issued for specific reaches of a stream or water body, and inspected by satellite from the state engineer’s office. All of this is realistic and possible.
RELIABLE DATA indicate that a mature salt cedar transpires about 300 gallons a day, so enterprising appropriators can get an acre foot water right for every 1200 salt cedars they permanently destroy. On a million acres, with a plant density of at least 60,000 plants per acre, that’s a potential of 50 acre feet per acre, or 50 million acre feet total, with a market value of $5,000 an acre foot. Therefore, a significant opportunity lurks in the thickets of this servant-turned-pest.
However, because the opportunity is exclusive to H. sapiens, we’ll most likely see politicians and activists engage the most expensive and least effective strategies for removal, probably involving chemicals which, even though approved for aquatic use, will probably create a whole new set of problems.
Here’s something to think about: there are hundreds of species out there who would love to do to sapiens what sapiens would like to do to tamarix. Maybe it’s time to live with our mistakes and think about making adaptations within our species rather than meddling in the habitat of others. But this thought, coming from a sapien, is of course suspect.
John Mattingly farms and writes near Moffat in the land of the giant chico bushes.
