When I first met urban wildlife expert John Hadidian, I was already concerned about paved-over landscapes and lifeless seas of turfgrass, but primarily because they were boring and chemical-laden. I had antipathy toward lawn mowers and leaf blowers, but mostly out of fear for the ears of gardeners and animals exposed to the loud grind.

It would be years before I fully understood the implications of denuded landscapes stripped of the native plants that many animals depend on for survival. But John, the senior scientist for wildlife protection at The Humane Society of the United States, introduced me more than a decade ago to the serious impacts of our lawn-crazed culture on nesting and migration patterns.

It was the early 2000s, and some communities were waging war with Canada geese. The story John relayed was a sad and familiar one for wildlife protectionists: After hunting geese to near-extinction (twice), humans did what we so often do, launching misguided recovery efforts that moved them to regions they hadn’t previously inhabited. Once there, the geese stayed—and did exactly what we’d asked: they proliferated. And pooped. A lot. So much so that we decided to get rid of them again, initiating government-sponsored killing campaigns that even included mass gassing in improvised “euthanasia” chambers.

By the late ’90s, hope had come in the form of proven humane alternatives, including oiling eggs to prevent development, enlisting border collies to patrol ponds, and—most intriguing of all to me—adding native plantings around bodies of water. Geese, John explained, are attracted to areas where turfgrass abuts ponds and lakes and provides easy lines of sight. Especially in summer, when they are molting and can’t fly while raising their goslings, the visible route into the water is essential for escape from predators.

“It’s a self-inflicted wound,” John said of the goose-related problems experienced by homeowners, businesses, and park managers. The geese who’d been relocated, bred in captivity, and put in unnatural settings now “hang around here all year, and we complain about it, but you know, we did this to them.”

The message was clear: We’d created the artificial landscapes, so why couldn’t we use that same ingenuity to reverse course and restore what had been lost? And I had to wonder: If we’d done this to geese, who else were we doing it to?

Those questions would eventually inspire me to devote all my time to creating and promoting wildlife-friendly landscapes. It’s a passion I share with many others. But in spite of the growing reach of the sustainability ethic, all of us who have joined the burgeoning movement over the past decade still face formidable challenges—and not just in the realm of encouraging more wildlife-friendly plantings. For some people, banishing wildlife entirely, through any means necessary, is a primary goal. As John wrote in a recent essay for the Biophilic Cities newsletter, “Every year, many thousands of wild animals living in cities are killed for simply being perceived as ‘nuisances,’ often for no more of an offense than being seen crossing a yard.”

It doesn’t have to be this way. So many animals—including those in our own backyards—are mistreated out of fear or a lack of understanding of their natural behaviors. Our species can and should do better. And thanks to the work of John and his colleagues, we already know how. It’s up to every one of us to act on that knowledge now.

An upcoming blog will provide highlights from a recent talk John presented about humane solutions to conflicts with wildlife. But first, can you name the animal who nibbled on this tomato from his garden? The first correct response entered into the comments section will receive a free copy of John’s book, Wild Neighbors: The Humane Approach to Living with Wildlife.