Trout or Warbler? Perspectives Matter

I was once a member of a National Research Council committee who assembled the latest research on riparian areas and wrote a book for the National Academies Press:

Riparian Areas: Functions and Strategies for Management 

We were a diverse group:

• riparian ecologist
• lawyer 
• grazing expert
• policy wonk 
• wetland scientist
• hydrogeologist 
• stream restorationist
• public lands expert 
• fisheries biologist

and me, an ornithologist. 

I represented the private sector, an ecological consulting business. My main source of expertise? I personally had spent many hours conducting bird and mammal surveys in riparian areas along streams and rivers in northern Michigan. 

My company used those data to educate foresters about riparian values and functions, and to work with them to design stream buffers and wildlife-friendly harvest regimes.

(Even as I write this, I can feel that warm May sun on my face and hear a rose-breasted grosbeak sing. Funny, though, how memories filter out mosquitoes…)

Our very first committee task was to create a definition for a riparian area.

The discussion was lively (and this list doesn’t begin to capture the intensity!) 

• Should the shallow water (littoral) zone be included? 
• Do we end the riparian zone at the high water mark? 
• What about cliffs? 
• How do we account for energy exchange?

Hmmm. As an ornithologist, I wasn’t sure how to contribute to the discussion.

Maybe this wasn’t so simple after all. My own thoughts on riparian areas suddenly seemed a bit na?ve, certainly out of step with the other committee members.

But in the midst of the discussion, my recollection of bird surveys intruded.

Aha!

I was emboldened to speak up. 

“Listening to all of you, I realize that I’m approaching the stream from the upland, walking toward it, listening for birds, maybe hearing that Canada warbler in the alder thicket where it nests, noticing the swarm of gnats it feeds on…”

I paused. They were listening. 

“When I hear you talk about the riparian zone, it sounds like you’re in hip boots, midstream, walking toward shore. I hear you talking about things that trout need: cold, clear water, woody debris, macroinvertebrates…”

I looked around. The group was engaged. 

We broadened our discussion. 

After all, a riparian area is precisely that transitional area, that ecotone, between water and land. We had simply been missing the perspective of the landlubber. 

The result? Our melded perspectives created a more robust definition…and eventually, a more complete book. 

Perspectives matter. Our own. Other people’s. Other creature’s.

And not just in ecological discussions.

In business too. In fact, it may be especially critical in environmental businesses where non-human perspectives are definitely part of the picture.

The committee?

park and recreation director, meadowlark, city manager, naturalist, garter snake, Audubon member, white-tailed deer, public works director, monarch butterfly…

Successfully completing a project needs all voices to be heard. 

Overlooked perspectives can result in critical gaps in the final project. Or, even worse, create adversaries instead of collaborators. 

We’ve all been there. 

So, recall the parable of trout and warbler. And, even in business, adopt an ecosystem point of view, where all perspectives matter. 

(Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some birdwatching to do.)