a long time to have a full team inspecting. I don’t think I can spare my specialists for that long, especially if you’re not finding anything. If we don’t see any sign of your bug in the first two weeks, I’m pulling my team back.”
Celie gave him a level look. “We’re not going to make any decisions about early termination until we’ve been out in the sugarbushes.” And you’re not going to undermine my authority.
“But if—”
“We’re not going to make any decisions about early termination until we’ve been out in the sugarbushes,” she repeated, keeping her voice even. “We’ve got a job to do. Let’s focus on that. The data will tell us what comes next.”
Rumson subsided with a glare.
Celie gestured to the wood sitting on the table before her. “For those of you who haven’t seen what we’re looking for, I’ve got some show and tell. First, Mr. Scarlet-Horned Maple Borer himself.” She passed around a clear sample case with a small beetle inside. It was mostly brown with gaily striped red and brown feelers. “Big things come in small packages, as the saying goes. It doesn’t look like it could decimate the hardwood forests of the northeast, but there you are. Now, it’s unlikely in the extreme you’re going to see one of these beetles. They spend most of their life in the wood of the tree and right now they’re at the tail end of their dormancy period. What we want to look for are signs of incursion.”
She lifted the section of wood off the table. “See the lightish streaks and the way the bark has thickened? That’s a response to the fungus the maple borer carries. Most trees also release a chemical to combat the beetle. If you find a tree that looks suspicious, mark it and scrape the inside of the bore holes to obtain a sample. Detecting the fungus, or better yet, the inhibitor chemical is the most conclusive method we have for confirming the presence of the beetle.”
Ford stirred. “I thought I read somewhere that certain trees are resistant.”
“They are. The borer doesn’t like ash or black oak, for example. It’s not just a taste thing. Those trees have high levels of the inhibitor chemical—if he keeps eating, he dies. Unfortunately, in the sugar maple it’s not sufficiently strong for protection.”
“Aren’t there any insecticides we can use?” asked one of the state forestry specialists.
“None of the insecticides currently approved for use in the U.S. are effective against the maple borer.”
Ford looked at her keenly. “So there is something, just not for us?”
“Sort of. I was part of a team that isolated the inhibitor chemical and concentrated it into an insecticide called SMB-17. It was commercially released last year in Canada and in Japan.” She waited a beat. “The trade name is Beetlejuice.”
That got a round of laughter from all except Rumson.
“What about here?”
She tamped down all frustration so that none would sound in her voice. “U.S. agencies appear to require a little more time and data.” And meanwhile, trees by the thousands came down. “We have hopes the red tape part will be done soon.”
“Soon enough to help us?” asked Marce.
“I wouldn’t hold my breath, although I’m told the regulatory action leader has been reviewing data and should make a decision soon.”
“That’s encouraging, isn’t it?”
“The RAL’s been reviewing the data for about six months.” And ordering more tests, and stalling and stalling and stalling…
“You ask me, they’re being responsible,” Rumson said heavily. “Just because you think it’s hot stuff doesn’t mean we can just start spraying it around.”
“You don’t spray it, you inject it.” Her voice was curt.
“There’s more involved here than just your program. Maples produce a food product and if you think that you can just whip up something in your lab and expect us to take your word on it, well, you don’t know how things work. Taking the time to do it right is the responsible thing to do,” he added pompously.
Good old Dick, she reflected, always most patronizing when he didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. “Well, they have five years of data from three independent sources, all of it submitted two years ago, to work with. I’d hope they could make a decision based on that in less than a year.”
Several of the state specialists looked amused, she noticed. Interesting. It appeared that Rumson wasn’t any better liked by his staff than he was by her.
“At any rate, that’s the future. It doesn’t change what we do today,” she said briskly, moving on. “Right now, our only weapon is removal of the infested and high-risk trees, the sooner the better. The inspection process might be hard work, but it’s critical to the future of this area, so stay alert. If you find a suspicious candidate, mark the tree, log it, take a sample. I’ll collect them from you at the end of the day and follow up from there.” She passed out a stack of maps. “Here’s where I want you deployed.”
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