Observations from New Zealand’s Alex Knob Track

A hike up the Alex Knob track illustrates so many of these trials and the urgency with which we must combat the struggles that our planet faces. Four miles long and accompanied by 3000 feet of elevation gain to the terminus, the trek is by no means difficult to the able-bodied. Situated within Westland Tai Poutini National Park, the trek’s main draw is the phenomenal views of the Franz Josef Glacier from its summit, Alex Knob, which lies some 4300 feet above sea level.

I found this brief hike to spell out in the simplest of terms some of the most profound threats to the world’s wildlife in ways that far surpassed the capabilities of the greatest human storytellers and scientists. In this piece, it is my intention to convey not only what I saw but what it can teach it about the world at large.

Though still close to the road, silence is not hard to come by in the forests of New Zealand. In a country of so few people, national parks are not host to thousands, a welcome sight for a New Jerseyan. That silence was broken just twice during this trek, the first time by a psithurism and a streak of orange in the canopy. Its plumage rendered nearly invisible through the deluge of green, the culprit only appeared when that ever-elusive sunlight wriggled its way onto its dull, olive wings. It was a kea.

The kea is an unmistakable, resplendent bird. The feathers on its head and body are brownish-green hue and give way to brighter shades of emerald and cerulean on the wings. In flight, the underside of the bird’s feathers are revealed, showcasing a beautiful palette of orange, red, and yellow. The kea holds the distinction of being the world’s only alpine-adapted parrot, thriving in the harsh conditions of the New Zealand Southern Alps. Unfortunately, the kea also holds the distinction of once being hunted for bounty as a result of its reputation for preying on livestock (most notably sheep). In the wake of these hunts and dramatic habitat reduction, the bird has been placed on the endangered species list. Their numbers dwindling, there may now be as few as 3000 wild kea remaining.

I rushed to retrieve my camera, knowing this may be my one opportunity to see this creature in the wild. Sure enough, the kea flew off before I had the opportunity to capture its beauty at close range. Luckily, my good friend and talented photographer Carlos Tramonte captured some incredible shots of one on his own trip to New Zealand that he has allowed me to share with you. Note its large, hooked beak that is perfectly adapted for omnivory.

The kea has much to teach us about our interactions with the natural world, but perhaps no lesson is as poignant as the simple fact that our planet is losing its biodiversity at disturbingly high rates. New Zealand as a whole serves as a perfect microcosm for this phenomenon. In the two centuries since European arrival the island has lost nearly two dozen species of birds alone. All across the world, as man continues his assault on the soils and seas for the extraction of elements and the erection of skyscrapers, untold numbers of organisms are killed each day. It is estimated that the global presence of native species on land-based habitats has dropped by no less than 20% since 1900. At sea, that change is accelerated, with 33% of reef forming corals facing eradication and marine mammals facing even more pressing losses.

The tale of the kea also provides a cautionary look into the perils of large scale agricultural operations. The aforementioned sheep is famous for its presence in New Zealand where it outnumbers people by a ratio of 6:1. With this abundance comes an incredible mess of issues, including not only the slaughter of native species like the kea in order to protect farmed animals, but wild habitat destruction, the grazing of native species not properly adapted to grazers, water quality degradation, and a tremendous strain on natural resources. Overall, more than 40% of the land area in New Zealand is used for agriculture. This, too, is not an issue unique to New Zealand. Globally, 50% of habitable land is used for farming, and most all of it is more resource intensive than that of New Zealand’s largely pastoral agricultural sector. We must continue to evaluate our processes of consumption, land use, and industrial agriculture if biodiversity is to be maintained.

The hike winds up the mountain and tall trees give way to short alpine shrubs. The temperature plummets rapidly as the vegetation shrinks and I must stop to apply gloves and a sweater. I am now firmly in the midst of the clouds. At this elevation, with visibility limited and no one around, there is an enchanting bliss to the trail. You lack any sense of where you are relative to the summit or the base. Limited visibility allows you to focus intensely on the tranquility of your surroundings.

At roughly 2500 feet up, the pristine silence is broken again by the sounds of helicopter wings and gunfire. I stood dumbfounded as the helicopter veered away from the glacier, where I assumed it would be headed to give tourists a scenic view, and over the bush. Luckily, a local happened to be heading down the track and informed me that this helicopter was shooting down invasive goats from the air in an effort to protect the alpine habitat of New Zealand.

Feral goats have become a nuisance to island habitats from Oceania to the Galapagos. Generalist herbivores that eat vegetation not adapted to scathing them off, goats can spell disaster for any ecosystem they infiltrate. These creatures, through no fault of their own, must be destroyed in order to protect the islands’ native wildlife. Unfortunately, goats are but one of dozens of species that have invaded and proliferated on the islands of New Zealand, as the nation has had to enact strict biosecurity policies to limit further invaders.

Invasive species are perhaps one of the most well-known ecological nightmares we face currently but present serious logistical and ethical dilemmas that plague our efforts to eradicate them. Countless examples, from Asian carp to zebra mussels, cause ecological mayhem throughout the world. Their impacts are well documented and include drastic landscape change, water quality depletion, and trophic cascades. It is estimated that 40% of animal extinctions in the past 500 years are attributable in some fashion to invasive species.

Introduced through a variety of means (and sometimes with intent) many believe that to kill these animals is wrong. Take the example of the American mustang, which has become so culturally significant and beloved that to kill it is literally criminal. In the hundreds of years since their arrival, horses have been woven into the fabric of cultural identity of people who live in the Western US. This is in spite of the fact that their protection costs tens millions of tax dollars annually and that their herds cause demonstrable devastation on western ecosystems. Others believe in incentivizing the slaughter of these species. It is with both sympathy and staunch conviction that I fall firmly into this camp. If mankind is the reason that a species has colonized in a foreign environment, and we must do all we can to restore these ecosystems.

 The last half mile of walking brings with it about an inch of fresh snow beneath my feet. The greens of the understory have now faded into a similarly wondrous array of amber and maroon alpine vegetation. Fragile and rare, these plants are uniquely adapted to the challenges their environment presents and are vulnerable to degradation by hikers and goats alike. As promised, the trail’s terminus presented a stunning view of the glacier. As the clouds retreated, the whole of the glacier revealed itself. I could not help but feel saddened.

In a world where there are still millions in need of an education on the perils of climate change, glaciers are perhaps the single most visible example of this planet’s warming. In the case of Franz Josef, one need not look more than two decades into the past to see the absolutely devastation of the glacier. Glacial melt presents a host of issues to this planet, including sea level rise, climate alteration, and the reduction of albedo leading to exacerbated planetary warming. Obviously, glacial melt is but one bullet point in a seemingly innumerable list of the issues presented by climate change. To some, it may pale in comparison to issues that have more direct impacts on human life.

Although certainly vital considerations, the merits of ecosystem preservation and the fight against climate change extend beyond cultural and recreational significance. The fight to preserve wildlife on a global scale has become has life or death implications for a large portion of this planet. Take the example of coral reefs, which have garnered a similar macabre fame to glaciers in terms of their visible degradation as a result of global warming. In addition to the cultural significance of these habitats, they provide relief from tropical storms, support nearly a quarter of the world’s marine species (many of which man depends on for food), and are sources for new cancer-fighting drugs. The same holds true for other ecosystems, including tropical rainforests. When we allow these ecosystems to fade away, we suffer untold losses of drugs not yet synthesized, food systems left in disrepair, and economies collapsed in addition to the utter destruction of cultures and ways of life for millions of people.

I’m not going to pretend I that have all of the answers to the issues I’ve outlined today. I certainly have ideas, but it is going to take massive global cooperation to right this ship. But perhaps more importantly, I’m not going to pretend these issues are not real for the sake of convenience or comfort. I wish I could appreciate a rainforest, glacier, or coral reef and the services these ecosystems provide without wondering whether my progeny will have the same opportunities, but such is the challenge of our time. We often talk of these threats to our ecosystem as abstract and invisible to the human eye. But if you know what to look for, they’re impossible to miss.