The Cactus Wren
(conclusion)

     “Here it is,” says Quinn, pointing to an anticlimactic collection of tiny p rickly-pear cacti, just barely poking single, spiky leaves out of the hard ground.  They look impossibly delicate, as if a strong gust of wind would knock them tumbling downhill.  They also look impossibly small, v far short of the meter’s height the cactus wren requires.  The p rickly-pears are planted in a circle, a little collection of bright green stubs that couldn’t possibly protect a cactus wren from anything in this barren expanse of lonely brown. 
     Just outside the perimeter of the circle is a curious-looking cylindrical tube, sticking three feet out of the ground.  This is a Mexican Elderberry, a tree that has been determined to be closely linked to the cactus wren’s survival.  The IRC plants Mexican elderberry trees in all of its restoration sites because the bird, for reasons unknown, prefers to nest in cacti growing close to this species.  Encasing the tree in this tube is supposed to keep the tree at the level of moisture necessary for it to grow, and it is also supposed to keep it growing vertically.  Looking at the cloistered elderberry, however, it is difficult to realize that this foreign feature sitting in this setting of coastal sage scrub contains an element that is native to the land. 
     Once again, the elusive call of the cactus wren sounds from nearby.  Quinn abandons his speech mid-sentence to scamper into the brush toward the sound, but returns looking dejected.
     “I really want to see that cactus wren!” he exclaims, still looking wistfully toward the bushes.  But it’s back to business as he looks at Margarito and Abelino, examining the raking motions they’re making with their hoes.  It is imperative that they hoe gently, not just for the sake of the fragile cactus, but so that none of the other native species are killed.  These include tiny Blue Dick flowers, Deerweed, Wishbone plants, the California Sagebrush, and California Buckwheat.  Quinn instructs Margarito and Abelino in more of his rudimentary Spanish, pointing at the ground as he speaks.  He pauses every so often to listen again for that distinctive call, his ears cocked and his face hopeful.

     It is unknown exactly what role the cactus wren plays in its environment.  The OCSBC’s Nerhus believes that the bird is responsible for seed dispersal of the Mexican elderberry tree, which would actually make the wren a vital component of the local ecosystem because of the important role played by that tree.  Besides scrub oak trees, the Mexican Elderberry is the tallest tree in the ecosystem, making it one of the only perches from which coastal sage scrub birds can hunt, as well as one of the only sources of shade.  Berries from the tree provide a food source in the summer when most other plant food sources are dormant, and the elderberry also provides shelter for lizards and other small animals .  Besides possibly dispersing tree seeds, biologists know that cactus wrens eat insects and provide warning calls to other birds in the wild.  Biologist Robb Hamilton, however, believes that the disappearance of the cactus wren, which in spite of its small size is the largest North American wren, may well be a warning sign that the entire ecosystem is beginning to crash, as the bird is one of its most advanced members.  For him the cactus wren is an indicator species. 

“They represent the apex of what has evolved in this area…if they disappear, then we’re just left with an impoverished natural environment,” he says.  Hamilton’s colleague and fellow wren enthusiast Kris Preston agrees.  “We’re simplifying and homogenizing our ecosystem,” she says.  “I feel a real sense of loss.  What would it have been like two hundred years ago?  What other things aren’t here that we’re not aware of?” Hamilton also says that the decline of the wren’s ecosystem is a direct reflection of the way that humans utilize resources and build right over nature, a view that is shared by most people involved in the restoration project.  Cactus wrens in Orange County once had the contiguous habitat that they needed, until it was fragmented by human development and burned by human error.  “What does it take to make people care? People don’t have to care,” Hamilton says.  “You can still get on the I nternet and enjoy life.”

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