Scientism trap for preserving wildlife

Environmental scientist Peter Frost, after a short appraisal of the Ministry for the Environment's proposed National Policy Statement on Indigenous Biodiversity, implicitly agrees with its policy thrust - to set mandatory national standards to stem biodiversity loss (Conservation Comment, July 23). He continues in a scientific vein (island ecology) and proposes the creation of corridors linking existing fragments of native vegetation.

All very scientific, but in reality birds fly between islands, carrying seed with them.

Kiwis leg it across paddocks at night and there is a time of year when eels do the same.

Faint corridors exist along road verges, riverbanks, railway lines, forestry margins, and through reverting farmland. Indigenous flora and fauna in turn invade agricultural land (manuka and pukeko for example) and even the urban environment (I recently observed a couple of kaka cracking walnuts in a tree in the Aro Valley, near the centre of Wellington).

By neatly dividing New Zealand into conservation land and land altered by humans over the past millennium Peter Frost falls into the classic trap of scientism. As the above examples illustrate, exotic and indigenous species these days are irrevocably intertwined; a dialectic division may aid simplistic comprehension but plainly does not reflect reality.

The heart of the Ministry for the Environment's proposed policy is that central government should impose nationally consistent standards (under the Resource Management Act) to be followed by all local authorities in New Zealand. I will give two examples which illustrate why this should not be.

Perry Reid's farm at Portobello on the Otago Peninsula was covered in gorse and wildlife was under threat when his family took over.

While similar conservation ventures handle the wildlife for weighing and tagging, the Reids do not.

"What I'm doing is giving it the canvas, and nature is painting the picture," said Reid.

His "hands-off" policy has seen breeding pairs of yellow-eyed penguins increase from 17 to 60, and the farm income now includes eco-tourism.

In the Whanganui National Park I can take you to 500-year-old northern rata that was thriving when DoC took over in '87 - now it's dead.

There are a number of things that could have caused this: possums, old age, drought, or the track that climbed the hill over its surface roots that was built so tourists could get a closer look - the steps chopped into one of the main roots certainly wouldn't have helped.

Given a choice between a variety of individual solutions, or central government imposed standards, I'll take the former.

Fred Frederikse is a self-employed landscape designer