Wildlife, habitat and the city

It is easy to disregard or forget that there is one ecology (see Shepard 1969). People move from their preferred habitat to exploit, actively or passively, the resources in others, just as all fauna do. The human proclivity for classification and defined boundaries means that habitat is often represented and conceptualised as static and inviolate. This overlooks the point that habitat is shared by the Earth’s denizens spatially and temporally, and that boundaries are probabilistic representations of where species or species assemblages might usually be found. Nowhere is this more evident than in much thinking about cities: the artefact of human ingenuity to transform habitat to suit its purposes. In this process, wildlife is displaced, although some species are advantaged, and may share our created spaces permanently while many others are temporary visitors. Wildlife in urban areas can be perceived as a delight, a pest, or simply ignored to blend unseen into our created ecological system. With our creativity and the one ecology, we have the capacity to choose our co-tenants and visitors, and to shun the unwelcomed. Without thought about ecological processes, we also have the ability to discriminate unwittingly against species with which we might wish to share our created spaces.

Ives et al. (2016) report 500 threatened and protected species living within Australian cities, with 51 species having more than 30 per cent of the area they occupy occurring in cities or towns. Perhaps efforts to develop linking corridors between protected areas and encouraging the growing of native plants is ‘bearing fruit’, nectar, seeds and habitat for sustainable wildlife populations. For New Zealand, Claire Freemen and colleagues point out that gardens form the major part of urban greenspace, yet the relationship between householders and garden wildlife, and the contribution of gardens to native biodiversity and conservation is poorly understood (see Barratt et al. 2015; Freeman et al. 2012; van Heezik et al. 2012, 2013). This team highlights the common occurrence in gardens of the iconic tui (Prosthemadera novaeseelandiae) and New Zealand fantail (Rhipidura fuliginosa), with distinctive taxa such as skinks, stick insects and beetles amid native plant species.

Specific efforts have been made to enhance wildlife habitat in urban settings, including gardens. Some local governments are proactive in encouraging the urban use of native plants, creating urban conservation parks and well-vegetated recreation parks, planning to link urban parklands, providing advice on the threat of cats to wildlife and how to live with wildlife (e.g. possums) that can become troublesome. However, this is countered by growing populations and rates of urbanisation, the clearing of land for new housing, with roads and other infrastructure to serve them. Urban renewal is inevitably associated with greater density of housing and residents, and new estates permit a larger house footprint with loss of the great Australasian backyard for cricket, gardens and possibly wildlife habitat. While concern is definitely warranted for the encroachment of the urban footprint into rural landscapes, local governments need soundly based advice on what they can do to enhance urban wildlife populations. This would include how to manage the interfaces between parks and private land to create larger refuges, including the role of corridors, and how urban planning policy might be better approached to support wildlife conservation, including improved biodiversity assessment.

It would appear from the targeted, but still meagre, research effort that urban areas can support a great diversity of native wildlife, with implications for the role of gardens and public spaces in sustaining native biodiversity. However, the degree to which particular wildlife species depend on urban settings for their survival, and the potential for enhancing the contribution to biodiversity conservation, awaits clarification. Just as Miller et al. (in press) have called for consideration of removing the artificial, although legally enshrined, boundaries between protected areas and tourist destinations for more effective management as ‘protected destination systems’, there might be social and conservation benefits in studying wildlife in the urban landscape positively as ‘urban habitat systems’. This would require a relatively minor shift in application of the considerable amount of work emerging under the labels of linked social-ecological or coupled human-natural systems, which currently focus mainly on rural settings.

Articles in this issue

Our first two articles consider urban fringes. In the first, the inspiration for our editorial, Sera Blair, Geoffrey Wescott and Kelly Miller report a study of community attitudes towards conservation of the endangered Southern Brown Bandicoot in three new residential developments in the Cranbourne area, south east of Melbourne, where restrictions are in place to protect this species. Their survey of 318 residents showed general community support for bandicoot conservation actions, including new developments being cat-free with bandicoot habitat corridors, and for confinement and other controls of domestic cats in existing developments. Unsurprisingly, cat owners were less supportive, particularly towards limitations on cat ownership. Indeed, a number of households owned cats in an estate where cat ownership was banned. The authors argue that supportive community attitudes are insufficient: compliant behaviour is essential. Inadequate community awareness, knowledge among residents, for instance confusing bandicoots with rats, and resident turnover, pose threats to the conservation effort.

Sebastian Rossi, Catherine Pickering and Jason Byrne conducted a survey of 392 residents living near six peri-urban national parks in Queensland, about recreational activities permitted there. Park authorities are often under pressure to permit a wide range of activities, but these can affect local residents, as well as conservation goals. They found that most residents thought non-motorised recreational activities were appropriate, but had negative views towards motorised recreation. Residents with a strong sense of place were more negative towards motorised recreation, and more positive than others towards non-motorised recreation. Nevertheless most residents continued to visit their local parks. The authors suggest that studies such as these can identify local communities’ levels of acceptance of different types of recreational activity, reducing the potential for conflict.

To gain insights to climate change impacts on land use, Michael Buxton, N. Y. Osman-Schlegel and Dominic Lopes identified trends in soil moisture in Victoria from 1948 to 2007. They applied rainfall, temperature, potential evapotranspiration and soil water-holding capacity data to calculate Thornthwaite Moisture Indexes for regions across the state for 20- and 10-year periods. The long-term trends allowed the identification of soil moisture zones that reflected the extent of change between the periods. The analysis supports predicted climate change impacts of increased risk of bushfires and suggests that, without change in management practices, some existing land uses will cease or be forced to shift to different areas. Apart from the geographical insight the study gives, we suspect that the methodology, applied at a regional scale, might be useful in addressing the call for more localised evaluations of potential climate change impacts.

Almost as a complement to the work of Buxton and his colleagues, but in the far different climatic zone of northern Australia, Lai Thi Tran, Natalie Stoeckl, Michelle Esparon and Diane Jarvis estimated financial losses in agriculture as a result of drought. They found that drought-affected properties earn about a half that of other ‘similar’ properties and that the sector loses an average of around 19 per cent of production annually through drought. Under the vagaries of existing climate projections, they estimate that this could fall to 10 per cent or rise to 40 per cent. Given the magnitude of these losses, exacerbated by the lag between the ‘end of drought’ and return to full production, they call for climate proofing agricultural production through investments in identifying adaptive farm management practices, drought resistant crops and genetic material and financial arrangements to support the resilience of farmers.

Muhammad Islam, Ameeta Jain and Dianne Thomson questioned whether the global reporting initiative (GRI) influences levels of sustainability reporting. They studied the six largest banks from Australia, Japan, China and India, for the period 2005–2012. The banks participating in the GRI showed a higher rate of disclosure of sustainability data, and among those, externally assured banks showed higher levels of disclosure than the others. There was significant variation among countries, with Australia performing best. The results suggest that the banks are responsive to the GRI framework, and that this may be associated with ‘moral legitimacy’, a desire to achieve social approval. Australia’s strong record in disclosing sustainability performance may reflect stronger stakeholder expectations than in the other countries studied.

Given the widespread use of environmental offsets in project approvals to mitigate net environmental loss, Justine Bell explored their use in marine systems using the Great Barrier Reef as the case. She noted a shift from the often used and land based ‘like-for-like’ approach to offset investments in improving (degraded) ecological pathways that sustain reef ecosystems; for example, offsetting seagrass loss by programs to reduce diffuse-source pollution. Her considerations lead her to support outcomes-based offsets where establishing or rehabilitating a marine ecosystem can offset impacts of a proposal, but recognising that restoring degraded ecological systems can contribute, although indirectly, to this outcome. As she implies, there may be greater and long-term good achieved by such approaches, given the peculiarities of marine ecosystems, the recognised major threats to the reef, the budgetary constraints to addressing these threats, and the pragmatic view that protected or restored habitat will not be sustained without a healthy supporting environment.

Editors’ tip

What makes a good introduction? We have advised before (editorial, September 2011) that abstract, introduction and conclusions should match: the introduction promises, the conclusion delivers. Your introduction obviously has to introduce your topic, but there are ways of doing so particularly effectively. Most introductions give a concise literature review that sums up what is known so far in the field, and demonstrates the gap in knowledge that this article will address. A strong introduction will open in a way that engages the reader, perhaps by relating the topic to some important practical point, or point of interest. (This is particularly useful in a practice-oriented journal such as this one). Often a short sentence is a good way to attract a reader’s attention. Many will complete the introduction with a ‘thesis statement’, foreshadowing what the article will argue. That leads well into the following sections, and is generally more powerful than just an overview of what is to come in the article. In our view an overview is redundant, in such a short document.