Editor’s note: This is the final entry of Imagine KC’s 13-part blog series on strategies for regional sustainability. Learn more about Imagine KC at www.onekcvoice.org/imaginekc.
Guest writer: Larry Rizzo, Missouri Department of Conservation
I was born and raised in Kansas City. When I returned to the city after having spent most of the ’90s in another part of the state, encouraging things were happening: the River Market was thriving, bringing people back to the place near where our city was born; the 18th and Vine District, birthplace of the brand of jazz that gave the city its personality, was being revitalized; and stately Union Station, the nation’s second largest train station and centerpiece of the city’s core, was finally being renovated and reopened.
In an era when the places we eat, shop and live are increasingly homogenous, it made me glad that people cared about these things that made our town different, special. Places like Union Station are part of our historic and cultural heritage. They represent what it means to be from Kansas City. Without them, we are like anywhere else. Imagine a city composed of nothing but strip malls, chain restaurants and rows of modern houses of the same design. How would the residents of that city have any identity or sense of place?

But our biological heritage extends much farther back in time. Like those historic buildings that are part of our identity, we also have historic landscapes that define what this land once looked like and influenced those who chose to call this place home. Today these landscapes, or natural communities, are all but lost.
Sometimes they are lost almost instantaneously, like when a wrecking ball slams into an old structure. An ancient prairie, its intricately melded fabric of plants, animals and soil microbes built over tens of thousands of years of evolution, can be erased in hours by a plow. An oak forest that stood during the Revolutionary War can be bulldozed overnight.
But many times the loss is much more gradual and insidious. Remove fire from the landscape, introduce exotic species of plants and animals, alter watersheds, and the results occur so incrementally that few people notice. Over time, however, such effects can alter native natural communities almost as completely as the bulldozer.
What remains and thrives in disturbed environments are species that are generalists, ones that can survive anywhere; often these are exotic species. What are lost are landscapes and natural communities with a diversity of native species and their complex interactions. What is lost is our biological sense of place, our knowledge and appreciation of what our landscape once was. It is the biological equivalent of replacing our union stations with modern strip malls and condominiums.
Green is better than gray. That is, from the perspective of ecosystem functions or services, any land cover in the metro area that is not covered by a building, roadway or other impervious surface is better than one that is. But the truth is that some green space is not very “green.” Land covered in invasive species may provide a place for storm water infiltration, but will not provide home or refuge for native plants and animals, nor does it do much to lift our souls from an aesthetic standpoint.
We live in what once was an area of tremendous diversity, where dense shaded forests transitioned to sparsely timbered oak savanna or woodland and then to open prairies. These natural communities contained a rich interwoven fabric of native plants and animals. It is critical that we identify, protect and restore places that represent the greenest of the green — places where this fabric is most intact. Areas where small pieces can be woven together into larger ones, and where multiple pieces can be connected by natural corridors, can also serve to provide high-quality recreational opportunities for urban-dwellers. Doing so will not only protect native plants and animals today, it will protect our region’s identity and biological heritage for future generations.
Posted by onekcvoice 


