Send in the Goats

I know the Autumn Olive well, and I hate it. I’ve spent many mornings in the dark, fighting an endless sea of this invasive and prickly plant. Torn up, sweaty, and angry.

At first glance, it probably seems like any ordinary shrub (though it can grow up to 20 feet tall), with silver-green leaves and bunches of red berries that are hard to miss. Most Michiganders probably wouldn’t even notice it, but it’s everywhere. And while it doesn’t have true thorns, it has sharp, stiff branches that have shredded more than a few of my shirts.

But the real damage isn’t to my clothes. This invasive shrub is quietly fueling one of Michigan’s growing public health threats: an explosion in ticks and the diseases they carry.

I’ve written about Michigan’s tick problem in the past. It’s not a small issue. Usually, people blame global warming and land-use changes, but we can’t overlook the role invasive plants play. Autumn Olive is not just an invasive species (reason enough to destroy it from the face of our fine state), it’s the perfect partner in crime for ticks.

The Soil Conservation Service introduced the shrub to North America in the 1830s. It’s native to East Asia, but the experts expected it to do well in poor soil conditions and provide quick-growing habitat for wildlife in North America. The problem is that it has few natural predators here. Deer seem to love living in Autumn Olive clusters, but they sure don’t seem to eat any.

The experts thought it would be the perfect solution to erosion. Boy, were they wrong.