Reed Noss, Ph.D.
Davis-Shine Professor of Conservation Biology, University of Central Florida, Orlando, FL

When I think of longleaf pine, the sensory memories come first: the soft wind singing through the impossibly long needles of the pines; the smell of fires past and pine resin present; the pure flutelike songs of Bachman's sparrows coming from all directions, near and far; the multiple colors of wildflowers arching above the wiregrass. The sunshine. The overwhelming peacefulness.

Only after a flurry of such memories has passed is it possible to consider the scientific facts of the longleaf pine ecosystem. This is really more of a savanna than a forest, although it can be called either. It was once the dominant vegetation of the southeastern coastal plain and extended into the piedmont and even the southern edge of the blue ridge province. Its herbaceous layer rivals in diversity any plant community on earth. It has more imperiled species than any major forest type in the United States. Its natural fire frequency is virtually unparalleled, and the vegetation
actually promotes fire to perpetuate itself.

Both the sensory and the factual memories are accompanied by an unavoidable sadness. Why did we eliminate more than 97% of this marvelous ecosystem? The stands that remain, although undeniably beautiful, are mere scraps.
Restoration projects seem so puny. Yet we must accomplish them. We owe it to the red-cockaded woodpecker, the brown-headed nuthatch, the pocket gopher, the gopher tortoise, the diamondback rattlesnake, the cloudless sulphur, the calopogon, the summer farewell, and the hundreds to thousands of other species closely associated with this ecosystem. And we owe it to ourselves and our grandchildren to let the most wonderful pine forest on earth regain
its former glory.