Ripping Off an Ecological Band-Aid

The Story of Appalachian Forest Recovery

By Shay Chandler

The coal mining industry is synonymous with the hearty Appalachian folk who cling to the rocky surface of their mountains like moss. For an area that is often described as poverty stricken, coal represents the last gasps of life for many communities. Often, when the coal mining industry leaves an area, so do the jobs, and then so must the people (Semuels). These are heavy consequence in themselves, and yet the situation gets even worse. Decades and lifetimes spent digging through the earth have resulted in damages, damages that until now were left thinly veiled by the land reclamation attempts of the coal industry. Now, several nonprofit organizations are focused on bringing back the ecological health to the Appalachian Mountains, and in doing so, may just be able to bring back economical health as well.

            Although up to 80% of the Appalachian region is forested, large amounts of naturally forested land have been lost to coal surface mining, including over 600,000 hectares (Zipper et al). Think 600,000 football fields filled in with stripped, compacted dirt instead of well-manicured grass. Due to past laws that require mining companies to mitigate the ill effects of mining, reclaimed lands have been “fixed” using herbaceous and woody species. These species may grow quickly and stabilize the stripped land, but compared to the old species that performed necessary and imperative ecological services, the new species do not stand a chance (Radmacher).  One such species, Elaegnus umbellate, is commonly known as autumn olive. Autumn olive is a non-native and invasive species that can hinder growth of native species (Zipper et al).

            In West Virginia, a nonprofit organization named Green Forests Work began a reclamation effort to really fix the land on 40,000 acres known as the Mower Tract. In order to bite off only slightly more than any sane organization can chew, they began work on 2,000 acres near Cheat Mountain. Here, a bulldozer operator named Bill Moore works on what some naysayers refer to as nothing more than “Mine Restoration 2.0” (McGowan).

            Brad Edwards, who oversaw the first reclamation efforts, likens the new work to repainting a perfectly good room a new color. He sees it as a luxury. But what if the old color was created using lead paint? Lead paint can cause irreparable damage to kidneys, nerves, and blood, similar to how insufficient reclamation attempts cause harm to native trees, roots, and soils. Doesn’t seem so luxurious now, does it? (EPA)

 Safe to say, Moore and his coworkers see the situation differently than Edwards. In fact, they don’t think that you can simply put a Band-Aid over the destroyed land. Now they have to rip the bandage off to truly start the healing process.

            Their method involves knocking down non-native Norway spruce and other undesirable species before scoring the heavily compacted dirt with steel blades. This process is known as “deep ripping” and allows for native species, including saplings, shrubs, and flowering plants, to be planted.

In fact, the co-founder of Green Forests Work, Chris Barton, sees this method as the only option: “Ripping so deep might seem extreme, but it’s the only way to give these native trees a chance.” (McGowan).

And when native trees are given a chance, so is everything else. Appalachian Headwaters, another nonprofit group funded by bankruptcy settlements from mining companies, is hoping to restore streams that can support native aquatic life and insects. One insect they are focused on is the bee: thanks to a $1.5 million grant, Appalachian Headwaters hopes to train displaced Appalachian miners as beekeepers. The nonprofit plans to offer financial startup assistance, as well as helping the locals along the way until they are able to market and produce their own honey. Soon apiaries – manmade beehive containers -- will be popping up everywhere on reclaimed sites (Radmacher).

The reclamation of Cheat Mountain will take several years, but it won’t create an “instant forest.” In fact, a mature forest is at least 50 years away. Moore, who has lived on the mountain his entire life, hopes the next generation will experience the mature forest, and thanks to the several nonprofit organizations that have stepped in to bring the ecosystems back to health, the next generation may just stick around to see it (McGowan).

Sources

McGowan, Elizabeth. "Reclaiming Appalachia: A Push to Bring Back Native Forests to Coal Country.” Yale Environment 360, 15 Dec. 2017, https://e360.yale.edu/features/reclaiming-appalachia-a-push-to-bring-back-native-forests-to-coal-country. Accessed 1 March 2018.

Radmacher, Dan. “Restoring Land for Native Plants, Bees and Streams.” Appalachian Voices, 15 Jun. 2017, http://appvoices.org/2017/06/15/appheadwaters/. Accessed 1 March 2018.

Semuels, Alana. “Imagining a Post-Coal Appalachia.” The Atlantic, 8 Apr. 2015, https://www.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2015/04/imagining-a-post-coal-appalachia/389817/. Accessed 1 March 2018.

Zipper, C. E., Burger, J. A., Skousen, J. G., Angel, P. N., Barton, C. D., Davis, V., & Franklin, J. A. (2011). Restoring Forests and Associated Ecosystem Services on Appalachian Coal Surface Mines. Environmental Management,47(5), 751-765.

“Learn About Lead.” EPA, https://www.epa.gov/lead/learn-about-lead#effects. Accessed 1 March 2018.