Strapping gaiters over their bare legs, Baron and her team traverse calf-deep snow patches to reach their field sites. They bushwhack through low-hanging limbs, maneuver over fallen trees and gnarled roots, and slide down the snowpack, occasionally postholing, in pursuit of the experimental plots that Baron and her team set up in 1992. Stopping at one plot, Baron empties a baggie of tiny ammonium nitrate pellets into the soil. These pellets will release nitrogen throughout the flagged area, leaving a Hansel-and-Gretel trail of white pebbles on the forest floor—and allowing researchers to see what effects this excess nutrient will have.
Telltale signs of over-fertilization in the park are already apparent. At lower elevations, weedy, aggressive species, such as several non-native European grasses, now crop up along trail margins, and the park’s historically rich variety of diatoms (doily-shaped algae that form the base of the food chain) have been replaced by just two dominant native species. The differences are subtle—but if trends continue on the current trajectory, the park’s ecosystems could be severely impacted. “These biological changes are portents of more serious things to come,” says William Bowman, an ecologist at the University of Colorado at Boulder. In the worst-case scenario, that could mean acidified soil, heavy metals leaching into park lakes and streams, dead fish, and a profoundly different environment.
And unfortunately, nitrogen is just the beginning. A National Park Service study released in February 2008 found that a slew of toxic airborne chemicals—including DDT, Dieldren, and mercury—have accumulated in disturbingly high levels in the streams, soils, and plants of America’s most pristine wildernesses. The effects of these contaminants echo up the food chain: Fish at several parks were found to contain levels of pesticides and mercury that exceed safe consumption limits for humans, birds, and other wildlife. “Parks are our last bastions of cleanliness,” says Baron, “so this kind of insidious stuff coming in out of the sky is a terrible thing for an area that is our last, best hope to keep ecosystems in their natural state.”
But it’s not too late. Colorado adopted the Nitrogen Deposition Reduction Plan in 2007, a road map (based largely on Baron’s and Bowman’s work) aimed at bringing the nitrogen influx at Rocky Mountain National Park down to acceptable levels by 2032. Farmers and ranchers are closely involved, working to learn how they can better manage livestock operations and fertilization practices to minimize unwanted nitrogen. And ordinary hikers can do plenty to help. Actions that combat climate change—such as biking to work, driving cleaner-burning vehicles, reducing energy use and buying more efficient products—will also slash airborne pollutants like nitrogen, mercury, and other heavy metals.
As storm clouds gather in the west, Baron hurries to complete her tasks. The glistening lake has now turned steely blue, and a cool breeze sends a shiver through the meadow grasses. Surrounded by granite towers and glaciers, the setting is postcard-perfect—and hard to imagine any other way. If enough people listen to Baron’s alarm, there won’t be a need to.