We have a major problem here, now being addressed at long last, with
salt cedar (Tamarisk) along the banks of the Rio Grande.
Sure it's great at stabilizing and halting erosion, but they are so
water thirsty that the losses are intolerable.
http://tamariskcoalition.org/about-us/news-coverage/press-releases/leaf-eating-beetles-laying-waste-salt-cedar-trees
> ALGODONES – The rust-red leaves in the tamarisk trees on the banks of the Rio Grande north of Albuquerque are the unmistakable sign that the trees’ nemesis, a leaf-eating beetle known as Diorhabda elongata, is here to stay.
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> “The law of unintended consequences,” mused Adrian Oglesby.
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> Introduced in the 19th century to protect railroad bridge abutments, praised for its ability to protect riverbanks from erosion, vilified for alleged water-sucking ways while simultaneously defended as wildlife habitat, the story of the Eurasian tamarisk – also known as salt cedar – is a textbook example of unintended consequences.
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> The beetle, introduced in small populations in an attempt to control the tamarisk, is the latest example. Brought from Europe to Utah and Colorado a decade ago, along with small populations in Texas, the beetle has run amok, spreading far beyond the narrow range biologists predicted.
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> After initial beetle arrival in 2012, the beetle rapidly spread uninvited up and down New Mexico’s rivers.
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> “Last year was really the year of the beetle,” said Oglesby, an attorney at a University of New Mexico water policy think tank and board member of the Tamarisk Coalition, a nonprofit tracking the beetle’s spread. “It came charging down the Jemez. It came charging down the Rio Grande, and now it’s charging up the Pecos as well.”
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> The beetles lay their eggs on tamarisks, with their larval offspring eating the leaves, quickly turning green patches of trees brown. Depending on local conditions, they often do not kill the tree outright, leaving it bristling with dead growth that nevertheless can sprout new leaves the following year.
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> Getting rid of tamarisk always has been an article of faith along Western rivers, but the dying trees along rivers’ edges in New Mexico and around the West are raising new questions – about fire risk and lost habitat for birds and other creatures that have made their homes in the artificial forests.
(they need to lose that worriment)
And get on with:
http://www.sanjuanswcd.com/programs/russian-olive-salt-cedar-removal/
> Russian olive and tamarisk (salt cedar) are aggressive, invasive trees that infest river banks, use excessive water, compete with native species, and form dense stands prone to wildfire. Removal and management of these trees is essential to maintaining the health of the rivers and land in our district.
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> San Juan SWCD projects have cleared over 3,000 acres of Russian olive and salt cedar in the past six years, and have chemically treated over 1,800 acres of resprouts. Through funding from NM State Forestry, US Forest Service, the State of New Mexico, and San Juan County, our projects have removed hazardous fuels for 110 private landowners, and have cleared firebreaks and improved river access for Farmington, Aztec, Bloomfield, San Juan County, Jackson Lake Wildlife Management Area, Navajo Lake State Park, Bureau of Land Management, US Fish and Wildlife, Bureau of Reclamation, and the Navajo Nation.
We also have something we locally call "acequias" which indeed are just
small canals used for irrigation.
In ABQ proper there are many urban neighborhoods where people still farm
small plots and rely on these and the ditch rider (Mayordomo) is still a
respected and important figure in the community.
It's all very ancient and very cool.
Oh, and it works!
But that spring brush hogging is a thankless job.
A great read on the matter is:
http://www.unmpress.com/books.php?ID=1161
> Mayordomo: Chronicle of an Acequia in Northern New Mexico
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> Stanley Crawford
> Irrigation ditches are the lifelines of agriculture and daily life in rural New Mexico. This award-winning account of the author's experience as a mayordomo, or ditch boss, is the first record of the life of an acequia by a community participant.
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> ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTORS
> Stanley Crawford lives in Dixon, New Mexico.
> ACCLAIM
> " . . . a timeless, near-classic. . . . This is the sort of book you will read, shelve, and take down to read parts or all of again. And again." -- Books of the Southwest
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> "Stanley Crawford has . . . turned the history of an acequia into a startling and lovely celebration of life. . . . Crawford's artistry draws the reader . . . into the lives of those simple and strong people . . . [His] narrative technique effectively leads the reader through the past's mundane tasks of yearly digging and scraping ditches . . . Mayordomo illustrates the joy of 'living life deliberately' without modern conveniences--it reveals to the reader the strength and hardihood found only in those who live close to the land and depend on the environment for survival. It is a testament to the human spirit . . . " -- Western American Literature
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> "Mayordomo is informative non-fiction writing at its best . . . Moreover, it has been perceived as a fine piece of living archeology . . . [Crawford] applied his skill as a writer of smooth and sensitive prose." -- Taos County Historical Society
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> "Crawford writes with clarity and true pitch about the climate, the wildlife, and the social complexities of northern New Mexico village life. . . . As a contribution to naturalist literature the book is equally rich. . . . Mayordomo is sure to become a classic regional study . . . Crawford's sensitive pen captures the conflicts and continuities with poignancy." -- El Palacio