Most Americans will never visit the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. But wildlife from the refuge probably visits your state every year.
The caribou, wolves and other animals we associate with America's largest wildlife refuge are only half the story of its rich diversity. More than 50 species of birds that make the refuge their home are welcome guests in our hometowns in the "Lower 48" during migration and the winter season.It is the delicate natural balance supporting these birds and dozens of other animals that is threatened by parts of the oil and gas industries and the members of Congress who do their bidding. Opening the refuge to oil and gas development doesn't just affect a small spot of land above the Arctic Circle. It impacts the birds we see in our back yards and the fierce pride we have as a nation that values protection of wildlife and natural beauty.
I was lucky enough to spend time in the Arctic refuge shortly after becoming Secretary of the Interior in 1993. The tundra, a thousand shades of emerald and jade, sparkled in the soft light of the midnight sun. On a field of cotton flowers and saxifrage, musk oxen circled to protect their calves as a pack of wolves stalked nearby. It was late summer and the caribou had already trekked southward into the passes of the Brooks Range - the tundra was touched with the scarlet hues of autumn, and the snow geese would soon be coming down from Wrangell Island to fatten up before the long flight southward.
A total of 135 species of birds have been recorded on the Coastal Plain of the Arctic Refuge. Each year these birds use the coastal plain to nest, raise young, feed or rest for their migration to destinations across the United States and beyond.
Snow geese will eat cotton grass on the coastal plain for up to 16 hours a day, increasing their body fat by 400 percent in only two or three weeks. They leave and fly nonstop more than 1,200 miles before resting again. They descend like thick white clouds on the central valley of California. Thousands of people come to the Sacramento National Wildlife Refuge on cool, sunny mornings to see them return from feeding in nearby rice fields.
Tundra swans on the refuge's coastal plain are part of the eastern continental population. They winter on the east coast of the United States. Mattamuskeet National Wildlife Reserve in North Carolina has more than 30,000 swans each winter and attracts more than 50,000 visitors.
The golden plover and the lapland longspurs from the Arctic Refuge migrate to the northeastern United States. The red-throated loons and oldsquaw go to the Midwest, the ruddy turnstone and gray checked thrush to the Southeast. The long-billed dowitcher and savannah sparrow head for the South and the short-eared owl and golden eagle roost in the northern Rockies.
The presence of these winged visitors adds a grace note to our lives. We wait their arrival, marking our calendars by the sound of their flight. They are part of what makes our towns and regions special, these visitors from the north. The migration of wild creatures is an ancient constant in our uncertain modernity.
Oil and gas companies, through their congressional supporters, are pushing for the chance to upset these ancient constants. They want to invade the last small piece of Arctic sanctuary for an oil supply that would satisfy only a few months of our national demand. More than 85 percent of the great arctic coastal plain is already open to oil exploration and development, but they want more.
An impact study looked at the snow goose and found aircraft disturbance would displace the geese from critical feeding habitats. Disturbance impacts weren't measured for the other birds I've mentioned here, but you can be sure the massive disruption being proposed by the oil companies would have an effect.
Should Congress vote to end the long-standing protection of the heart of one of our premier refuges, it will inevitably shatter the balance of land and life into a thousand fragments.
Development will not only be the death knell for the refuge. It will also cast a pall over the dozens of towns and areas nation wide that celebrate, like clockwork, the yearly return of the Arctic birds.
If big oil has its way, I wouldn't be confident in setting my watch by the snow goose anymore.