Minimum‐Impact Research

For 40 years outdoor education has taught recreational wilderness users the philosophies of “minimum impact” and “leave no trace.” While these techniques have become widespread among hikers and campers in our nation’s fields and forests, it’s not clear if others in those ecosystems are as knowledgeable about such philosophies. Visible impacts such as social and secondary trails, waste, and discarded equipment are impacting our national parks and other research locations. This chapter encourages research scientists and their entourages to think about their impacts on the places they do research by learning about, and adhering to, the seven principles of Leave No Trace—a program managed by the Leave No Trace Center for Outdoor Ethics, in Boulder, CO—as well as an eighth principle that I’ve added at the end. Many field researchers work diligently to complete their research in a positive, low-impact, high-yield way, but we can, we MUST, do better. If we fulfill this mission, the environment will benefit and will yield greater knowledge to us, by continuing to exist. In the 1960s outdoor education began to teach the philosophies of “minimum impact” and the roots of “leave no trace” (LNT) in relation to how recreational users of the wilderness treat the natural world. These techniques have become widespread and well disseminated, and are continuously refined in response to our ever-changing world. Field scientists should take heed. Our impacts no longer (if ever) go unnoticed. Trails, gear, and waste (human, chemical, science related, etc.) are increasingly evident. An informal survey of land managers from several federal agencies confirms that research-related impacts occur on all federally managed lands—indeed in every environment where this pursuit is undertaken. Often, these environments are pristine places to which only researchers have access. And while research access is a well-justified privilege, it is critical that we think about the application of low impact practices. Such places may have had little to no human encroachment, so any impact can be ecologically significant. Field impact of scientific research on federally protected lands is not considered large. The effects of research activities are miniscule compared to that of the masses of people that visit Yellowstone National Park, for example. Other impacts—grazing, logging, mining, drilling and loss of biodiversity—are far more invasive and serious to ecosystems. But research-associated consequences are currently an issue and a challenge. From personal observations—some clarified with images herein—it’s evident that a problem looms. The paradox exists that we scientists want to learn from the environments in which we explore, but that exploration in and of itself can negatively affect that environment. Field access has long been an important component of research examining the circular, intertwined processes of the physical world. Nearly every ecosystem has been scientifically characterized at some level by any number of scientific subdisciplines—characterizations that are important and necessary. However, we research scientists need to think about how perform our jobs, and in my experience, this has not been taught, is rarely passed down by mentors, and is not always encouraged by our peers. A quick survey of colleagues rapidly yields stories, some unbelievable but ostensibly true, of adverse impacts and disturbing experiences. And while many of them occur unintentionally—often because of inexperience or naiveté—it remains our responsibility to adopt minimum impact and leave no trace practices, today. 1.1 Impacts in Yellowstone National Park For many people, the national parks have been an overwhelmingly positive undertaking. Many, like the uniquely pristine and accessible Yellowstone, have provided an opportunity to interact with the “wild,” as well as a tremendous amount of globally important scientific information. Naturalist John Muir, who died in 1914, long before significant research had begun, still was able to predict the importance of national parks in the scientific world. “Thousands of tired, nerve shaken, overcivilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity; and that the mountain parks and reservations are useful not only as fountains of lumber and irrigating rivers, but as fountains of life” (Muir 1905). As a Yellowstone researcher, I have been drawn to the Park because of the possibilities of Muir’s “fountains of life,” and have performed research in sensitive geothermal areas. And I have seen the consequences of scientific fieldwork at a number of Yellowstone locations. These research impacts are by no means large, and are likely not noticed by any but the most knowledgeable eyes, but they exist just the same. Unofficial trails have been established; groundcover has been matted down and trampled; equipment and scientific trash (needles, syringes, specialized apparatuses) have been left behind; and there is sometimes a general degradation of place. Some of these impacts are found in What is Minimum Impact Research? 3 “A wildland ethic must correspond to the way we conduct ourselves, both in the backcountry and in settings more heavily influenced by human use. We can travel along soft paths in the wilderness and make choices, individually and as a society, that allow those paths to continue to exist.” (Leopold 1949) 1.0 INTRODUCTION 4 GEOTHERMAL BIOLOGY AND GEOCHEMISTRY IN YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK Figure 1A-F. Research impacts in Yellowstone National Park. A. A steel ring stand, used for research, was left at Sulfatera Creek. B. A syringe cap left in the field near Washburn Spring. C. A research tag on the end of a natural object (good technique to blend in the impact); however as seen in D. was left in place when research was over. E. and F. Images show impacts to a microbial mat on the west side of Grand Prismatic Spring. Note: neither of these may be caused by research, but rather by the public, E., or non-domestic animal, F. All images taken July 2003. A.