Es lo mismo

      "Es lo mismo." (In English, "It's the same.") I find myself saying that a lot these days as I learn about the work of CICY (the Centro de Investigación Cientifica de Yucatan) and the Roger Orellana Botanical Garden, where I will begin leading tours later this month. The garden, founded in 1983, lists environmental education and the promotion of native plants as part of its mission, and its horticulturalists have their work cut out for them.
      When most of us hear the term "botanical garden," we expect a floral wonderland. (I am guilty of making this assumption.) However, this part of the Yucatan Peninsula has two basic seasons--wet and dry. Not surprisingly, most plants prefer not to bloom during the dry season, which is well over half the year (and the time when most of the international visitors come, since the weather is cooler). The garden's public entrance is lovely even in January, but subdued by many people's standards. (As is typical of gardens everywhere, I am being told, "Oh, but you should see it when. . . ")

      The scientist-founders of the garden set aside the central portion of this former henequin plantation as an experiment in natural succession to see what remained in soil degraded by decades of intensive cultivation (though henequin, fortunately, is a tough member of the agave family that does not require chemical inputs to grow in Yucatan, so the soil at least has not been contaminated by agricultural chemicals). What has grown in the last few decades has been a native selva seca, or dry forest, an ecosystem type that once covered much of northern Yucatan. Even though the entire  botanical garden with its multiple collections covers less than six acres, 85 species of birds and 96 species of butterflies have been documented here.

      This Yucatecan version of what would be old-field succession in eastern Ohio has the same PR problem as the northern version: i.e. lack of appreciation. While the term "trash tree" has no Spanish or Maya equivalent, the director of collections lamented that most people here have no love for this lively and biodiverse forest type.  Deforestation over much of the peninsula has caused serious population declines in a depressing number of plant and animal species, a problem shared north of the border.
      As is typical in the US (and perhaps everywhere), exotic plants are more common in nurseries and home gardens than natives are. Of course, palms from Indonesia are more exciting than any of the twenty species of palms that grow wild in Yucatan, just as English roses and Asian hydrangeas are found in more US gardens than native beauties like buttonbush and Hydrangea arborescens. One way that CICY attempts to combat biodiversity loss is its annual plant sale. Clarisa Jimenez, the garden's assistant director, states that one of the program's goals is to have at least one native species in every yard in Merida, and to that end, prices are kept low.

Prices on these lovelies begin at the equivalent of US $2.50, with six-foot palms going for less than $10. As happens at our local plant sale, bargain-basement prices do result in good plants finding new homes.
      It turns out that people in Yucatan have other traits in common with people in our neck of the woods, not reading signs among them. A not-particularly-stable limestone cave on the property has had to be fenced off to keep visitors from exploring and possibly causing a collapse.

Signs next to the aquatic garden clearly state not to feed to turtles, fish, or birds. But people do, dropping bread into the water in quantities far greater than the critters (who should not eat bread anyway) can eat, with the result that most of the water lilies that used to cover the entire water garden died from the contamination.

      People. Evidently, the same everywhere.