In recent years, there has been an increasing focus on the value of habitats for endangered species. Efforts to preserve diverse and unique ecological areas have grown louder and more pervasive as fewer and fewer species find themselves able to survive in habitats dramatically altered by human impacts.
Yet, while the pressure level in the nation’s political barometer continues to rise around the issue of habitats for endangered species, little to no attention is given to even rarer walks of animal life: mythical species. Surely, if they turned out to be real, their habitat too would be subject to much degradation in recent years, and given their already overwhelming rarity, we have little to no understanding of their ecological requirements.
It seems reasonable, provided the sheer hypothetical nature of these species, that the only due course is to make a series of assumptions about the challenges these species might face, and then offer solutions based upon historic realities that would, of course, remain true in a hypothetical future context. As with many future developments, such as the advent of space exploration, and in this case, the possible discovery of mythical creatures in the environment, no time is too soon to begin developing answers to these make-believe challenges.
For example, during the middle ages, fire-breathing and otherwise unique species of dragons were the subject of much artistic coverage – from the poems and stories of medieval Europe to the artwork and literature of the Chinese dynasties. Yet, since the Renaissance and industrialization, folk accounts of dragon interactions with humans have diminished to all but a trickle. Clearly, if dragons did ever actually exist, this would indicate a major ecological problem regarding the viability of the dragon population, if there were one.
The story of hypothetical environmental problems doesn’t stop there, however. A number of mythical species, from unicorns to gnomes to sasquatches, have all but disappeared from human consciousness, which portends hypothetical disaster for their survival outside of that consciousness.
In his book “Bigfoot: I Not Dead,” Graham Roumieu attempts to chronicle some of the problems facing this theoretical keystone predator. In what must have been an exclusive interview with the elusive species, Roumieu quotes Bigfoot’s lamentations on his ailing habitat: “Bigfoot bite forbidden apple and no could turn back. Deep pool in cold mountain turn into hot tub with barf and wig float in it, echo of canyon now microphone feedback, water now Zima … Squirrels now bury rock of crack instead of nuts.” Clearly, according to this account, the mythical species suffers from many of the same challenges that characterize the modern human relationship with the environment. In the interview, Bigfoot finally expresses his frustration with habitat encroachment, asking: “How many reflective vest Bigfoot have to wear before people stop run over Bigfoot on foggy mountain road at night?!”
And given we can only know so much about how mythical species might be critical to the stability of our ecosystems, solutions must be found to these problems as early as possible, if they exist.
The only reasonable barometer by which we can judge the effectiveness of solutions we design for non-real problems is that of the free market. It has hardly been the practice of industrial society to wait for scientific understanding to develop before beginning to think about how we might profit from that understanding, if it were to come about. The protection of habitats for mythical creatures, like the potential frontiers of space, is certainly no place for such prudence to start now – especially at the expense of exciting hypothetical business opportunities.
Perhaps this would inspire the development of a cap-and-trade system for mythical habitat reserves, encouraging would-be developers of these mythically sensitive areas to transfer their development rights toward infill areas and potentially pocketing a pretty penny. Or, a market-based solution might result in green jobs protecting mythical creatures’ habitats and cashing in on lucrative environmental tourism, like a wildlife safari for the especially superstitious.
Whatever the potential, one fact is certain: Nothing quite raises the barometer of public policy weight and relevance like exploring answers, in all seriousness, to problems that don’t really exist.
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