The problem gets bigger than that, though. For dating ancient life (what lived millions, not just thousands, of years ago), the radioisotope world includes two camps: those who tell time by uranium and those who use potassium. There are also entirely different methods for calculating deep time. Some scientists read the fossil record. Others study regular astronomical cycles that leave traces in the physical and chemical properties of rocks. These cycles occur because Earth’s orbit and orientation to the sun shift, slowly but steadily, causing recurring changes in sunlight and climate patterns. Yet rarely does anyone check whether dates derived from these different techniques agree. It’s as if every scientist is reading from his or her own watch, but nobody’s watch is synchronized with anyone else’s.
Earthtime’s goal is to synchronize the numerous watches worn by scientists who study deep time, then use them to create one superaccurate chronology of Earth’s past. To do this, Bowring and his colleagues have distributed a set of reference materials called standards (rock samples with known ages) and tracers (small quantities of isotopes with a known composition) to help make different labs’ results consistent. Until now, labs have used varying standards and tracers, which has led to differing results. Bowring hopes to eliminate such problems by giving everyone the same starting point.
Bowring and his fellow keepers of deep time are also searching for rock beds where scientists can test how well dates derived by different methods agree. And they are looking for new samples of ancient material to fill in details about ancient events. For instance, next year the ship JOIDES Resolution is scheduled to drill into the floor of the Pacific Ocean to extract rock cores that will span the period from about 53 million to 18 million years ago, a time of vast climate change.
If it works, Earthtime should enable scientists to study new, previously unappreciated aspects of Earth’s past. Erwin compares the endeavor to the Human Genome Project, in which scientists mapped the sequence of our genes. “The fundamental goal of the Human Genome Project wasn’t the genome itself—it was figuring out what our genes do,” Erwin says. “Our goal is to produce a better timescale so we can go out and start asking a whole new set of questions.”
Erika Check Hayden
Planted Forests Project
On the Southeast Asian island of Borneo, loggers, conservation biologists, and indigenous groups are coming together to test a new model of land use that gives everyone a piece of the pie. If their plan succeeds, it could be replicated in tropical regions around the world, protecting biological diversity while allowing the local people to enjoy the economic benefits of productive land.
The Sarawak state government in Malaysia commissioned the Planted Forests Project in an attempt to have it all: economic development, wildlife protection, and land use by local people. Nearly 1,900 square miles have been allocated for the planted forests zone. Slightly less than half the land is earmarked for the logging of acacia trees—a fast-growing species that can be harvested for paper. More than 30 percent of the land will be set aside for conservation. Indigenous people will continue to live on the remainder.
Biologist Robert Stuebing, who set up the conservation department of Grand Perfect (the government’s timber contractor), says the project was inspired by a map of the region showing where the government planned to plant acacia. Some areas would be used for the logging plantations, while others would be left alone. Stuebing realized that the network of undisturbed patches could serve as a haven for native plant and animal life. “Even if less than the whole habitat is protected,” he explains, “as long as you have enough bits and pieces and these are connected, you might be able to maintain a good sample of biodiversity.” Working with the loggers and the state forest department, he created corridors of land linking the forest conservation areas so wildlife can travel among them. Other conservation and development projects are also using protected passageways as a way to save native species. The question for all these initiatives is whether the corridors will actually allow enough movement to preserve populations of wildlife.
Stuebing’s first priority was to begin an inventory of what was living in the forest zone. Researchers have counted bearded pigs, deer, small mammals, birds, frogs, fish, and dragonflies and are now in the process of surveying fungi. The department keeps a log of every species identified, where it was sighted, whether it is endemic (exclusive to the region), and what its international and local protection status is. Despite previous logging and farming in the planted forests zone, more than 400 vertebrate species, including bears, civets, macaques, leopard cats, mongooses, pangolins, and porcupines, have been spotted there. Researchers have even discovered 18 snails that have never been seen anywhere else on Earth. “The beauty of the project was to see that there was such resilience and survivability of the fauna,” Stuebing says.
How the giant new acacia plantations will affect this diversity remains uncertain. Some carnivores, frogs, and squirrels seem to have taken to the planted areas more quickly than birds, bats, and snakes. With a considerable financial stake in the logging project, the government is unlikely to give up on the acacia stands, even if monitoring shows that they are harming biodiversity. But in a part of the world where human livelihood depends on the forest, this experiment at integrating wildlife protection into the mix is a big step in the right direction, Stuebing says: “It looks sustainable, and biologically, I really think this model will work well.”
If he’s right, sustainable developers around the world may copy his strategy as they struggle to balance the needs of humans and wildlife.
Jennifer Barone
