The Hamilton Spectator

Your children’s Yellowston­e will be radically different

- MARGUERITE HOLLOWAY

On a recent fall afternoon in the Lamar Valley, visitors watched a wolf pack lope along a thinly forested riverbank, 10 or so black and grey figures shadowy against the snow. A little farther along the road, a herd of bison swung their great heads as they rooted for food in the sagebrush steppe, their deep rumbles clear in the quiet, cold air.

In the United States, Yellowston­e National Park is the only place bison and wolves can be seen in great numbers. Because of the park, these animals survive. Yellowston­e was crucial to bringing back bison, reintroduc­ing grey wolves, and restoring trumpeter swans, elk and grizzly bears — all five species driven toward extinction found refuge here.

But the Yellowston­e of charismati­c megafauna and of stunning geysers that four million visitors a year travel to see is changing before the eyes of those who know it best. Researcher­s who have spent years studying, managing and exploring its roughly 8,800 square kilometres say that soon the landscape may look dramatical­ly different.

During the next few decades of climate change, the country’s first national park will quite likely see increased fire; less forest; expanding grasslands; more invasive plants; and shallower, warmer waterways — all of which may alter how, and how many, animals move through the landscape. Ecosystems are always in flux, but climate change is transformi­ng habitats so quickly that many plants and animals might not be able to adapt well or at all.

Yellowston­e National Park, establishe­d in 1872, is one of the UNESCO World Heritage sites threatened by climate change. It is home to some of the country’s oldest weather stations, including one at Mammoth Hot Springs. Data from the park and surroundin­g area has helped scientists understand and track climate change in the western United States.

Since 1948, the average annual temperatur­e in the Greater Yellowston­e Ecosystem — an area of almost 90,000 square kilometres that includes the park, national forests and Grand Teton National Park — has risen by about one degree Celsius. Researcher­s report that winter is, on balance, 10 days shorter and less cold.

“For the Northern Rockies, snowpack has fallen to its lowest level in eight centuries,” said Patrick Gonzalez, a forest and climate change scientist at the University of California, Berkeley.

Because snow is a cornerston­e of the park’s ecology, the decline is alarming to some ecologists.

Summers in the park have become warmer, drier and increasing­ly prone to fire. Even if rainfall increases in the future, it will evaporate more quickly, said Michael Tercek, an ecologist who has worked in Yellowston­e for 28 years.

“By the time my daughter is an old woman, the climate will be as different for her as the last ice age seems to us,” Tercek said. Yellowston­e’s unusual landscape — of snow and steam, of cold streams and hot springs — is volcanic. Magma gives rise to boiling water and multihued thermophil­es, bacteria that thrive at high temperatur­es.

In 1883, the New York Times described the park as an “almost mystical wonderland.”

For many visitors, Yellowston­e represents the American wilderness: a place with big, open skies where antelope and bison still roam.

“You run into visitors and they thank you for the place,” said Ann Rodman, a park scientist. “They are seeing elk and antelope for the first time in their lives.”

Rodman has seen vast changes near the town of Gardiner, Mont., at the north entrance to Yellowston­e. Some non-nutritious invasive plants such as cheatgrass and desert madwort have replaced nutritious native plants. Those changes worry Rodman and others: Give invasive species an inch, and they take miles.

Cheatgrass has already spread into the Lamar Valley. “This is what we don’t want — to turn into what it looks like in Gardiner,” Rodman said. “The seeds come in on people’s cars and on people’s boots.”

Cheatgrass can thrive in disturbed soils and can ignite “like tissue paper,” she said. It takes hold after fires, preventing native plants from regrowing.

If cheatgrass and its ilk spread, bison and elk could be affected. Cheatgrass, for instance, grows quickly in the spring. “It can suck the moisture out of the ground early,” Rodman said. “Then it is gone, so it doesn’t sustain animals throughout the summer the way native grasses would.”

Forests shade waterways, and those too are experienci­ng climaterel­ated changes. “We can very definitely see warming trends during the summer and fall,” said Daniel Isaak of the U.S. Forest Service. “Stream and river flows are declining as snowpack declines.” As fish become concentrat­ed in smaller areas, Isaak said, disease can increase in a population because transmissi­on is easier.

In 2016, the Yellowston­e River — famous for its fly fishing and its cutthroat trout, which thrive in colder waters — was closed to anglers for 295 kilometres downstream from the park after an outbreak of kidney disease killed thousands of fish. “The feeling was that this was a canary in the coal mine,” said Dan Vermillion of Sweetwater Travel Co., a fly-fishing operation in Livingston, Mont.

Lower flows and warmer water are one consequenc­e of spring arriving earlier. Quickly melting snow unleashing torrents is another. Flooding has affected the nesting of water birds such as common loons, American white pelicans and double-crested cormorants. “All their nesting is on lakes and ponds, and water levels are fluctuatin­g wildly, as it does with climate change,” said Douglas W. Smith, a park biologist.

And Yellowston­e’s trumpeter swans are declining. By the early 20th century, hunters had wiped out most of the enormous birds in the continenta­l United States, killing them for food and fashionabl­e feathers. But 70 or so swans remained in the Yellowston­e region, some of them safe inside the park. Those birds helped restore trumpeters nationwide. Now only two trumpeter pairs live in the park, and they have not bred successful­ly for several years.

Part of the reason, said Smith and a colleague, Lauren E. Walker, could be the loss of nests and nesting sites during spring floods. A pair on Swan Lake, just south of Mammoth Hot Springs, has spurned the floating nest that the Park Service installed to help the birds.

“Heritage-wise this is a really important population,” Walker said. “If this is no longer a reliable spot, what does that mean for the places that may have more human disturbanc­e?”

On the shores of Yellowston­e Lake, dozens of late-season visitors watched two grizzly bears eating a carcass, while a coyote and some ravens circled, just a hundred or so yards from the road. “If they run this way,” the ranger called out, “get in your cars.”

Grizzlies are omnivores, eating whatever is available, including the fat- and protein-packed nuts of the whitebark pine. That pine is, perhaps, the species most visibly affected by climate change in Yellowston­e and throughout the West. Warmer temperatur­es have allowed a native pest, the mountain pine beetle, to better survive winter, move into high elevations and have a longer reproducti­ve season. In the past 30 years, an estimated 80 per cent of the whitebark pines in the park have died by fire, beetle or fungal infection.

For want of the whitebark pine, a great deal could be lost. The trees are a foundation species, meaning they play a central role in the structure of the ecosystem. They colonize exposed mountain sites, allowing other plants to get a root-hold. Their wide canopies protect snowpack from the sun. They are also a keystone species. They provide food for birds such as the Clark’s nutcracker, which, in turn, create whitebark pine nurseries by caching nuts. And they are an important food source for squirrels, foxes and grizzlies.

When pine nuts are not plentiful, bears consume other foods, including the elk or deer innards left by hunters outside the park. And that can bring the Yellowston­e-area grizzlies, re-listed as threatened this September, into conflict with people.

The loss of the pines “has farreachin­g implicatio­ns for the entire ecosystem,” said Jesse A. Logan, a retired Forest Service researcher.

“The rest of the landscape, even in the mountainou­s West, has been so altered that Yellowston­e becomes even more important,” Logan said.

Yellowston­e provides a refuge for people seeking and delighting in a sense of wilderness. It offers a landscape unlike any other: a largely intact ecosystem rich in wildlife and rich in geothermal features. Yellowston­e’s unusual beauty was forged by volcanic heat; heat from humanity could be its undoing.

By the time my daughter is an old woman, the climate will be as different for her as the last ice age seems to us. MICHAEL TERCEK

Ecologist

 ?? JOSH HANER NYT ?? Visitors are shown at the Grand Prismatic Spring in Yellowston­e National Park on Oct. 15. Climate change is altering America's first national park so quickly that plants and animals may not be able to adapt.
JOSH HANER NYT Visitors are shown at the Grand Prismatic Spring in Yellowston­e National Park on Oct. 15. Climate change is altering America's first national park so quickly that plants and animals may not be able to adapt.
 ?? BRIAN J. CANTWELL TNS ?? As the sun comes up over Yellowston­e's Lamar River Canyon, a herd of migrating bison takes over a highway that follows historic wildlife migration routes.
BRIAN J. CANTWELL TNS As the sun comes up over Yellowston­e's Lamar River Canyon, a herd of migrating bison takes over a highway that follows historic wildlife migration routes.
 ?? JOSH HANER NYT ??
JOSH HANER NYT

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